For the past several days, I have felt as if I am on the verge of a mental break down. It seems to only have gotten worst. I feel as though my life is a great big game of "ring around the Rosy" and I'm at the part where "they all fall down". Between dealing with financial issue (who doesn't have those right) to school, to family, and personal, I just don't seem to be able to handle it anymore. My plate is full, over flowing and completely unbalanced, one slight shift and its to topple over.
Today I had a paper due in my Psy class(fundamentals of counseling theories). My paper was suppose to be in the Freudian style on my imposed client. If you know anything about Freud, his basic theory is driven by sex and sexual desire, a not so great subject for me. I didn't do it because I just plan flat out couldn't concentrate. My mind felt completely void of all knowledge. I'd sit down, look at it and I couldn't understand what the heck I was suppose to be doing. It frustrated me so I eventually gave up. I know myself, when things get like this I just need to go to sleep...give my brain some down time as its always moving 90 miles a min when Im awake. Sleep help me regain control over my meandering thoughts that seem to go in every direction other than the one I wish/will them. It was getting the better of me so I decided to go to bed. I had planned to work on it in the morning but of course something had to screw that plan up. My DD's decided today would be a great day to miss the bus. I was irritated all over again. Went back to "busy brain" and clouded thoughts focused on the abuses.
I went to class paperless, having debated the idea of just not showing up, which in my opinion is bowing out, almost a form of cowardness. So I show up to class empty handed ready to accept my fate. Fate was kind to me(for once), we had this in class assignment about what roles we play, we were suppose to color(yes with crayons) how we felt about the roles we played and what hats we wear. I'm on the verge of break down so mine isn't at all pretty. Profs. comes around as we are drawing and then getting in to small group to discus. She looks at mine and I was explaining to my partner that I didn't do my paper because X,Y, Z and on the verge of this break down, I was shaking. Profs. says that its ok about the paper and that she will help with with it.
For once I feel connected with someone, I remind you all that my Profs. is also a T. Which is good and bad. Good because I'm the crazy type that she is use to dealing with, bad because I'm the crazy type that she is use to dealing with. I connected with a T hurray. That's good right, nope. I know that you are suppose to "shop" per-say for a good fit with a therapist, so why is it that the one I feel connected to, safe with, relaxed, and actually comfy with the only one that's NOT an option. Not an option for 2 reasons.
1. Shes my professor and I'm not certain as to the ethics involved there.
2. She is a catholic therapist, Not that that really means anything but for me it makes me feel like I should catch fire as soon as I set foot in her office.
There is a 3rd reason also, that I would never ask but its the former far more than the latter why its never going to happen.
I quit T with Sally last week. Not really because things were getting hard(they were) but because of a statement she made that triggered me pretty bad and sent me in a total self-devouring down spiral. I never know when "mother" issues will pop up for me. The statement she made was that of a similar, if not identical one made by my mom when she was not wanting to deal with "my issues". It totally gave me all the same bad feelings I got when mom was talking to, I should say at me about not being over it yet. Thinking about it now that I have regained more of my better judgement I know that it's most likely not intended the way it was perceived. However the "hurt" side of me is very non-forgiving. I have had so many bad T experiences that I'm not sure I want to chance anymore.
Profs. suggest that I give it another try and that Sally is "seasoned" and has helped many other people with my same history. Profs. speaks very highly of Sally, but I just don't feel connected with her. I know the logically hearing that someone is has alot of experience or is "seasoned" should be encouraging. For me, it's more like panic in a jar just waiting for the right moment to pop the lid off. It makes me feel small and unimportant. Im sure this is more a me thing than anything else. I know she has heard worst just as well as I know that others have gone through far worst, but I can't think about that....its part of the reason why I struggle with being vocal. That very reason, that others have been through worst, was one of mother basic agruements against my "dwelling" on the abuse. Anyhow I think this is all Im going to do for now.
Monday, September 24, 2007
Monday, September 17, 2007
Can of Worms
I am taking this Psy class : Counseling theory. I really like this class but I'm starting to question if I how is really the best time to take it. Last week we did this activity called Free Association Words. Basically there are 21 word, someone reads you a word and then you are suppose to say the first thing that comes to mind. Now allowed to ponder it. So we did this in class and then she (prof) read some of them for us to show us how it works. And of course I volunteered cause I wanted to see how in the world you could figure anything out about a person from answers to 21 words. Words like tree, blue, purple, car, cat...ect. Just pretty much words that I myself would never think anyone could figure anything out off.
So I give her mine and she reads my answers to the words aloud. She pauses and tells me not to answer. Then she starts analysing it and says that from my answers it seems that I'm in or have been in a sticky and rough situation and that Im trying to figure out what to do about it. That I feel trapped, but really want to start over. She said more but I can't remember it exactly as she said it, but I started to freak out. I knew she was referencing to the abuse. ( I did get clarification after class as to what she was referring to and she told me that she wasn't going to say it in class because she wanted this to be a safe place for me. She didn't exactly say that she knew but she said that she had a pretty good idea, oh and she is a T also) Naturally I spent the rest of the class in a state of shock as well as panic trying to figure out how the hell she figure all that out with just 21 words. Words that I would think have no specific significance to most people. I felt so naked and totally exposed.
Is it that obvious. I felt like she picked my brain and exposed my deepest secrets. As I said before I talked to her after class and she assured me that its not that obvious, that she'd been doing this for over 30 years and had a pretty good track record. That answer did not feel sufficient enough for me as to how the hell she figured all that out. The logical side of me tells me that its quit possible, and that that is the most likely solution. To totally impractical side of me says that it must be writing on my forehead and all one had to do is look hard enough to see it clearly.
It has been almost a week sense we did that exercise in class and it's still really bothering me. I feel the same way I did when all this resurfaced back in Nov. when it took only a small conversation with a co-worker to open the can of worms. I thought the feeling was that she blew up my fortress but now I am coming to realize that that is incorrect. The feeling is more that of someone has infiltrated my still intact fortress. I think that's worst. Instead of opening the can of worms she simply started to take the lid off. My prof. opened it some more. I am desperately afraid to take the lid all the way off. However I am starting to get the feeling that now is the time. Like I no longer have the option of putting the lid back on. I don't like it! I know I know this is long pat due for being dealt with.
I am noticing that it seems to be more and more present lately. I mean, I haven't really had nightmares in a while, but it seems to be coming up a lot more. My mind feels saturated with it to the point that I contemplated actually talk (verbally) to my sis. I have to say that signals a huge red flag, that its time. My mind no long wants to hold on to it but I don't know it Im strong enough. Well I guess that's all the ramblings I have for now.
So I give her mine and she reads my answers to the words aloud. She pauses and tells me not to answer. Then she starts analysing it and says that from my answers it seems that I'm in or have been in a sticky and rough situation and that Im trying to figure out what to do about it. That I feel trapped, but really want to start over. She said more but I can't remember it exactly as she said it, but I started to freak out. I knew she was referencing to the abuse. ( I did get clarification after class as to what she was referring to and she told me that she wasn't going to say it in class because she wanted this to be a safe place for me. She didn't exactly say that she knew but she said that she had a pretty good idea, oh and she is a T also) Naturally I spent the rest of the class in a state of shock as well as panic trying to figure out how the hell she figure all that out with just 21 words. Words that I would think have no specific significance to most people. I felt so naked and totally exposed.
Is it that obvious. I felt like she picked my brain and exposed my deepest secrets. As I said before I talked to her after class and she assured me that its not that obvious, that she'd been doing this for over 30 years and had a pretty good track record. That answer did not feel sufficient enough for me as to how the hell she figured all that out. The logical side of me tells me that its quit possible, and that that is the most likely solution. To totally impractical side of me says that it must be writing on my forehead and all one had to do is look hard enough to see it clearly.
It has been almost a week sense we did that exercise in class and it's still really bothering me. I feel the same way I did when all this resurfaced back in Nov. when it took only a small conversation with a co-worker to open the can of worms. I thought the feeling was that she blew up my fortress but now I am coming to realize that that is incorrect. The feeling is more that of someone has infiltrated my still intact fortress. I think that's worst. Instead of opening the can of worms she simply started to take the lid off. My prof. opened it some more. I am desperately afraid to take the lid all the way off. However I am starting to get the feeling that now is the time. Like I no longer have the option of putting the lid back on. I don't like it! I know I know this is long pat due for being dealt with.
I am noticing that it seems to be more and more present lately. I mean, I haven't really had nightmares in a while, but it seems to be coming up a lot more. My mind feels saturated with it to the point that I contemplated actually talk (verbally) to my sis. I have to say that signals a huge red flag, that its time. My mind no long wants to hold on to it but I don't know it Im strong enough. Well I guess that's all the ramblings I have for now.
Tuesday, September 11, 2007
Mother
Well I figured it was probably about time to do this, I actually started this post on another site. I wanted to put it here as its a big part of the how and why I dealt with the abuse the way I have. There will deffinately be updates to this as I write more when I can. This is a real struggle for me and a very touch topic but here goes. Oh and I'll add all the new stuf at the top and dotted above the old stuff so you dont have to re-read it if you do want to.
I had always thought my mom to be an extraordinary women. By the time she was 18, she was married, had three kids and her husband had died. (I never knew my father...he passed while mom was still pregnant with me) She raised us the best she knows how. For the most part she did a great job, my siblings and I are all doing well so far as you can see from the outside looking in. We are all, either in college or have graduated from college, have good jobs, stayed out of trouble, never been to jail or did any drugs. From that perspective she did great. Mom and I never had a real close relationship. I was the youngest of 3. I think she had some resentment towards me from the begining because...being that my dad passed, I as just another burden. Not only that but I have health problems. I was sick a lot, always in and outta the hospital. I was also a very emotional child. I believe that most started when I was 5 or 6, right about the time the abuse started with my brother. Things only got worst as I got older. I was compared a lot to my older sis who was like the "ideal daughter".
When I was 9 mom meet ...him. He was a nice guy. Mom was so happy, she had found a guy that treated her good, had a good job and didn't mind that she had so many kids. We were excited to, he didn't mind doing family things, we were finally going to be a normal family with a loving father. The father that had been missing from our lives for so long. We were the "happy family" for the next 3 and a half years, I remember us asking him if we could call him "dad" as he was the first father figure we had. When I was 11 he started hurting me. He left the summer after my 12th birthday a few months after the abuse stopped, I don't know if he left or if she kicked him out. I remember mom making us go see him and telling us to be good cause she wanted him to come back. She told us to show him that we loved him and want him to come home. I never said anything about him hurting me till I was 14, 2 years after it stopped. That's when everything took a nose dive. I had told my older sis a very little about what happened, she said that I had to tell mom and that if I didn't then she would. So I wrote a letter saying that he hurt me and I was sorry for not telling, and please don't be mad at me....left it on her dresser and left for school.
When I got home, her first reaction was to yell at me, call me stupid. Still yelling she told me that I was stupid for not saying anything and that she thought she taught us to open our mouths and say something if someone was hurting us. My image of my mother was shattered. From that instant on I always felt like she hated me.
I really did think she hated me. Everything in her actions said so. I mean at firsts after the initial shock of being yelled at wore off I saw my mom differently. It was like the anger that it happened was no long pointed at me, but rather refocused in to "getting me better". Mom took me to get evaluated to see if I had really been telling the truth. She never once said she was sorry that it happened, never hugged me. She did mention that it must have been hard to go see him that day but other than that she was totally distant from me. After the results of the evaluation I started therapy. Mom was very supportive of me going to therapy, she said that she didn't want me to be all messed up about this for the rest of my life....news flash...pretty much am!!!!!.....anyhow she took me religiously, once a week to see Angela. She never stayed for my session and most of the time I was to take a cab home. Eventually I had to get there of my own accord.
I don't really remember to much about the days that followed the letter it was just all to terrible, I felt terrible....after all it was all my fault as I did nothing to try and stop it. This was the method of thinking of my 14 year old brain.( and yeah pretty much still think this way) Everything hurt. I felt like I betrayed his trust by telling, even thought it was something he himself had encouraged me to do if....and this is a big if.... I wanted it to stop. By not telling, he took the notion that I did not want it to stop, a fact he seemed pleased with. It was all so confusing. I hated myself, hated the fact that I had ruined so many peoples impression of him...ruined the image of our once "happy family". I knew that my telling would also secure that my little sister never see her father-something that really devastated me and pleased me all at the same time.
I'm not sure (timewise) but I felt I was slowly starting to crack, apparently others could see this too as one of the school counselors called me into her office. This was something that never happened before. She asked me what was wrong and I told her that I wanted to die....*apparently they take this kinda thing seriously...(shrugs) who knew* I was not allowed to leave the office and she said she had to call my mom, this was really not going to make things better. Between the school counselor , my therapist, and my mother...it was decided that I was a threat to myself and I should be send away to a nut house(mental hospital). I was sent away for 5 1/2 week-something that probably really saved my life. Mom came and seen me a few times the first week then hardly at all after that. It was a very nice vacation but I longed to have a normal life again.
Being there was to much of a reminder of just how abnormal I was. The weekend before I was released I was allowed to go on a home visit. To my dismay, mom had already gotten a new boyfriend and he was living there. I was really nervous and scared about being there with me. He told me right away that he was not like mom's ex and would never ever lay a hand on me like that. It was not very comforting and when I told mom that I was scare of being there with him, she said that he wasn't like that so I didn't have to worry. She didn't make him leave or ask him to stay somewhere else, it was just something I had to deal with. During my visit she left me home alone with him. I was terrified, nothing happened but that's a hell of a way to test your new boyfriend and put your child thru hell- in my humble opinion anyway. When I was released that was pretty much the end her support not that it was much to begin with.
I had always thought my mom to be an extraordinary women. By the time she was 18, she was married, had three kids and her husband had died. (I never knew my father...he passed while mom was still pregnant with me) She raised us the best she knows how. For the most part she did a great job, my siblings and I are all doing well so far as you can see from the outside looking in. We are all, either in college or have graduated from college, have good jobs, stayed out of trouble, never been to jail or did any drugs. From that perspective she did great. Mom and I never had a real close relationship. I was the youngest of 3. I think she had some resentment towards me from the begining because...being that my dad passed, I as just another burden. Not only that but I have health problems. I was sick a lot, always in and outta the hospital. I was also a very emotional child. I believe that most started when I was 5 or 6, right about the time the abuse started with my brother. Things only got worst as I got older. I was compared a lot to my older sis who was like the "ideal daughter".
When I was 9 mom meet ...him. He was a nice guy. Mom was so happy, she had found a guy that treated her good, had a good job and didn't mind that she had so many kids. We were excited to, he didn't mind doing family things, we were finally going to be a normal family with a loving father. The father that had been missing from our lives for so long. We were the "happy family" for the next 3 and a half years, I remember us asking him if we could call him "dad" as he was the first father figure we had. When I was 11 he started hurting me. He left the summer after my 12th birthday a few months after the abuse stopped, I don't know if he left or if she kicked him out. I remember mom making us go see him and telling us to be good cause she wanted him to come back. She told us to show him that we loved him and want him to come home. I never said anything about him hurting me till I was 14, 2 years after it stopped. That's when everything took a nose dive. I had told my older sis a very little about what happened, she said that I had to tell mom and that if I didn't then she would. So I wrote a letter saying that he hurt me and I was sorry for not telling, and please don't be mad at me....left it on her dresser and left for school.
When I got home, her first reaction was to yell at me, call me stupid. Still yelling she told me that I was stupid for not saying anything and that she thought she taught us to open our mouths and say something if someone was hurting us. My image of my mother was shattered. From that instant on I always felt like she hated me.
I really did think she hated me. Everything in her actions said so. I mean at firsts after the initial shock of being yelled at wore off I saw my mom differently. It was like the anger that it happened was no long pointed at me, but rather refocused in to "getting me better". Mom took me to get evaluated to see if I had really been telling the truth. She never once said she was sorry that it happened, never hugged me. She did mention that it must have been hard to go see him that day but other than that she was totally distant from me. After the results of the evaluation I started therapy. Mom was very supportive of me going to therapy, she said that she didn't want me to be all messed up about this for the rest of my life....news flash...pretty much am!!!!!.....anyhow she took me religiously, once a week to see Angela. She never stayed for my session and most of the time I was to take a cab home. Eventually I had to get there of my own accord.
I don't really remember to much about the days that followed the letter it was just all to terrible, I felt terrible....after all it was all my fault as I did nothing to try and stop it. This was the method of thinking of my 14 year old brain.( and yeah pretty much still think this way) Everything hurt. I felt like I betrayed his trust by telling, even thought it was something he himself had encouraged me to do if....and this is a big if.... I wanted it to stop. By not telling, he took the notion that I did not want it to stop, a fact he seemed pleased with. It was all so confusing. I hated myself, hated the fact that I had ruined so many peoples impression of him...ruined the image of our once "happy family". I knew that my telling would also secure that my little sister never see her father-something that really devastated me and pleased me all at the same time.
I'm not sure (timewise) but I felt I was slowly starting to crack, apparently others could see this too as one of the school counselors called me into her office. This was something that never happened before. She asked me what was wrong and I told her that I wanted to die....*apparently they take this kinda thing seriously...(shrugs) who knew* I was not allowed to leave the office and she said she had to call my mom, this was really not going to make things better. Between the school counselor , my therapist, and my mother...it was decided that I was a threat to myself and I should be send away to a nut house(mental hospital). I was sent away for 5 1/2 week-something that probably really saved my life. Mom came and seen me a few times the first week then hardly at all after that. It was a very nice vacation but I longed to have a normal life again.
Being there was to much of a reminder of just how abnormal I was. The weekend before I was released I was allowed to go on a home visit. To my dismay, mom had already gotten a new boyfriend and he was living there. I was really nervous and scared about being there with me. He told me right away that he was not like mom's ex and would never ever lay a hand on me like that. It was not very comforting and when I told mom that I was scare of being there with him, she said that he wasn't like that so I didn't have to worry. She didn't make him leave or ask him to stay somewhere else, it was just something I had to deal with. During my visit she left me home alone with him. I was terrified, nothing happened but that's a hell of a way to test your new boyfriend and put your child thru hell- in my humble opinion anyway. When I was released that was pretty much the end her support not that it was much to begin with.
Monday, September 10, 2007
Struggles
Ok so I admit I have been totally neglecting my blog. I do come it just about every day...look at it and think to myself " I should write today or it's time for an update" but the problem is that I don't. I can't. I have slipped back in to the "don't tell" and "no one wants to hear about that your bothering people" pool. The vortex in getting closer, the waters deeper, the waves are rocking and I'm slipping under. I'm still trying to figure out how to get myself out of these sinking waters. I had therapy today unexpectedly.
I went in to see Sally (T) as I was on my hour lunch break and had missed my previous appointment because I had to take my son to the ER. She said that she had a free hour and wanted to see me. It was right then and there, shocking to me and interesting all the same as I had no time to actually panic. We talked about random stuff. Then she asked me about emails. I had expressed to her in our first meeting that I'm not good with verbal communication so having an email was a great way for me to communicate with her the things that I know I can not say. However I guess I failed to also tell her that I have this inherent fear of bothering people with my issues. Thus I have not sent her an email yet. She asked me why I felt that way? My answer was..because its against the rules. So she ask me...Who's rules are those because they certainly are not your. She says that I'm still listening to someone else's rules. That kind of irritated me. Then she says that I need to name this thing that keeps me from talking and have a conversations with it. Freaky!! To tell you the truth, the idea of doing that kinda scares the hell outta me.
I don't thing I'm ready to face this thing, I feel weak against it.
Anyhow I have been thinking about this idea of naming it ever sense. so far, I am pondering a few...I thought about something that would describe how it feels to me but that wouldn't be something I couldn't actually say in confrontational context. So far I have come to the assertion that its some sort of bug, kinda like the bug that was extracted from Neal in "The Matrix" ...if you haven't seen it, its a great movie. Ok so I just came up with a name, I will call it NATT for Not Allowed To Talk. Thanks for the help E, :D. ok well I guess thats the end of my ramblings for now.
I went in to see Sally (T) as I was on my hour lunch break and had missed my previous appointment because I had to take my son to the ER. She said that she had a free hour and wanted to see me. It was right then and there, shocking to me and interesting all the same as I had no time to actually panic. We talked about random stuff. Then she asked me about emails. I had expressed to her in our first meeting that I'm not good with verbal communication so having an email was a great way for me to communicate with her the things that I know I can not say. However I guess I failed to also tell her that I have this inherent fear of bothering people with my issues. Thus I have not sent her an email yet. She asked me why I felt that way? My answer was..because its against the rules. So she ask me...Who's rules are those because they certainly are not your. She says that I'm still listening to someone else's rules. That kind of irritated me. Then she says that I need to name this thing that keeps me from talking and have a conversations with it. Freaky!! To tell you the truth, the idea of doing that kinda scares the hell outta me.
I don't thing I'm ready to face this thing, I feel weak against it.
Anyhow I have been thinking about this idea of naming it ever sense. so far, I am pondering a few...I thought about something that would describe how it feels to me but that wouldn't be something I couldn't actually say in confrontational context. So far I have come to the assertion that its some sort of bug, kinda like the bug that was extracted from Neal in "The Matrix" ...if you haven't seen it, its a great movie. Ok so I just came up with a name, I will call it NATT for Not Allowed To Talk. Thanks for the help E, :D. ok well I guess thats the end of my ramblings for now.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
