The entry comes from the last entry written and the helpful comment left.
A few sessions ago Dr. D said something to me that made me flinch. He said, it seems important that you be treated fairly. I flinched because the word fair was used. It sounded so childish. He went on to explain that for most of my life I was abused. Most of my life until I left home at age 19 was filled with back and forth of being in nice homes with her to living in garbage heaps with her to going to foster care to living in a car. And why did these things come about? According to my mother, I was the root of all her problems.
I was a scapegoat. An arrow pointed right at my face when it came to trying to explain why things in her life weren't going well. Her family would never accept her. She'd never marry again. She's never have any friends. According to her all that was my fault. The entire family took part in abusing each and every one of the children including cousins, everyone took part. Was that fair? No.
What I heard Dr D say was, "You seem obsessed with being treated fairly." That's not what he said at all. At no time did he make it sound childish that I expect people to act like they have some sense. But my history and social training makes the word fair sound rather childish. What's the answer to not feeling like something is fair? Life's not fair! How diminishing and dismissive!!!
Victim. Professional victim. ...continue reading
Dr. D wanted me to think about the dream from May 22, 2017 that we discussed in our session. I went back and highlighted words for us to discuss in our next session. This dream brought up quite a bit.
In the dream I got off an elevator and walked down the hallway to my apartment. As I did I saw a man leaving my apartment with a big box. He'd robbed me. He didn't try to hide his face. He left the door open. The thief took my cat Mary Jane. He took every piece of art I have including off the walls. He took all the stamps I handmade and my tea collection. When I saw that all my art was gone I laid on the bed and cried. He stole my blankets and pillows and left the bed with just a red sheet. He took everything, and got away with it.
Dr. D asked what I think the dream means. I told him it's exactly how I feel right now, robbed and at times powerless. The red sheets are interesting though. It's a power color, primarily positive for me. Even when a person is stripped and knocked down it doesn't mean they are without hope. However, in the dream, I was devastated and felt targeted. The man stole all my art. That hurt so badly. By stealing my art, he stole my voice. The theft felt personal. The brazen, unmasked robber took my comfort and security and he got away with it. (cue mother issues).
Writing about victimization makes me wonder if I feel like a victim in my day-to-day life or powerless? Do I feel exposed, without security? ...continue reading
It went well. No disturbances. I took Klonopin and used the laughing gas. I am comfortable with this office and really enjoy the girls working there. They take into consideration my entire history, not just medical. They know I'm a psych patient and that I have Lupus and CRSD. They know I have needle torture in my past.
I'll have to go back a few times to have work done, all but two can be saved. I was very pleased that the two teeth in the front have been saved and look really good after their make over. They said the condition of my teeth looked so much better than last time as far as cleanliness. I have a really difficult time putting a toothbrush in my mouth. It's painful to brush, but it's also triggering. I've been doing so much better with it though.
When I went in the girls were very chatty asking for updates with how I've been. They told me about their trip to El Salvador and the coffee they brought back. I told them I wasn't trying to be rude but there were a few things I needed to do to get through the appointment. I had months and lots of therapy to narrow down what I felt I needed.
- I needed to sit quietly to get in the right space which meant I wouldn't be able to chat with them until after the appointment.
- It's better I not see the instruments which means my eyes will be closed.
- I asked not to be told each and every step taken because for me it's more anxiety provoking.
- Please allow me to wear the x-ray vest during the procedure. It acts as a weighted blanket which works wonders for anxiety.
Content: Brother's suicide, anger, powerlessness, the complexities of death
The day didn't pass without painting. I tried to focus on something other than life issues and lay color on paper. It felt good to do so.
I'd been sipping Chamomile Bloom to keep myself calm which meant I wasn't in hysterics at the time of my appointment. We talked about my brother quite a bit and about how hard this has been to lose him. In the last 5 years this is the second suicide I've dealt with and the third of my lifetime. My brother's suicide, his death is unbelievably hard.
I said that I understand he was just human. I understand that he had a breaking point but I wonder if he thought for just a second about the students he left behind, about the suffering of anyone else? And yet I know when my pain levels rise too high I can no longer say I'm safe. I don't think about how others will respond. I don't think, I can't think. I only want to get out of my skin. So I can't say I'm without understanding of being on one's last bit of rope. I do understand. I also understand the complete betrayal one feels standing on the other end of death. It's complicated.
He asked if I think about my sister a lot. Yes, every day..but not every second of every day. I have given her all the space she needs from me. I have no updates on her though. I am still committed to an emotional divorce so I can heal from .....so I can heal. It's hard to walk away from a fantasy. I'm not going to get the sister I need and I have to walk away even when life is threatened. I can't swoop in and try to save her bc I'll be sucked back in to being her emotional punching bag and sucked back in to believing that somehow I can win her approval and we can be sisters and friends. That isn't true. It's a fantasy and I have to let it go, even when things get scary with her.
Concerning my brother's suicide
For a self imposed insomniac, the night is early at half past ten. It still has a chance to end well if I get this off my chest and get back to watching old movies while eating over buttered popcorn.
The thing is, I can't stop crying when I hear stringed instruments. I've always loved the cello, it's my favorite with the violin next. I just wonder, am I going to cry every time I hear the violin? I want right now to say that this is pure grief, but I'm angry. I'm angry that strings make me cry instead of proud that he played so well. I'm angry that my brother taking his life means not even music is the same.
I realized something, every suicide I hear about brings up my brother. Chris Cornell was a total and complete shock. I didn't even read an article about it until the other day. I couldn't look at it. For right now, I can't read blogs that touch on this subject. I am far too maxed. It doesn't mean I don't care or that bloggers should change their subject matter. It's just that I can't do it. It's the same as not being able to read blogs about mother / daughter sexual abuse. It doesn't mean I don't care, it means I don't have the strength to offer. I'm really sorry.
Content: Physical pain. Physical torture as a child. Mother and uncle standing in the doorway. Being watched as I shower. Reassuring myself that I'm safe. Robert's session.
When my pain level gets really high I get confused about why I'm in pain. When my eye lids hurt, when it hurts to talk, when I struggle to breathe I forget it Lupus or CRSD. I forget I have a medical condition and feel trapped in the past. Yesterday I lay in bed, just on the sheet, the fan was blowing over me. I had my face buried in the pillow when I became flushed with dread. I expected to look at the door and see my mother standing there. I fully expected her face to become clearer, for her to fill the doorway. I pulled the covers over me and felt more protected. I had to tell myself she can't ever again stand in my doorway. I slept with uneasiness and woke feeling bogged down.
Dr. D asked the question: Can your mother come to your house and get in?
Dr. D: Can she get in and stand in your doorway?
Dr. D. Can she ever hurt you again?
It's what she left me with that haunts me. I feel her hand from the grave touch my skin and make it crawl. I see her in my head but I try to talk to myself and remind myself that I truly am safe. As far as living family members, as long as I have a cat, no one is coming here.
This spring I was to decide if I could manage a dog which would help me sleep better but I am not able, sadly, I am not able. ...continue reading
Snow took me to therapy. I chattered the entire time about why on earth Prez Trump would allow these men in the Oval Office itself. Is he losing it or acting? I asked the same question of my therapist who said he has the maturity of a 5 year old. He then said, "among other things." Understanding the level of ???? that Prez Trump shows has been disturbing.
I seem to need to know why people behave the way they do. Why are people so disrespectful. Why are people so hateful, willingly hateful? Why is it so difficult to live beside another person without seeing them as lesser than? Why? And yet I know why. I was raised a bigot. I understand the thinking process, the training it takes to have someone believe that another human being isn't equal to you. But then we have to consider my background of abuse and neglect at well. Wouldn't I understand, from experience, that there are some people who simply don't matter and they are there to be abused? All the things said against me, against my person have left a huge mark. I believed them and still struggle with seeing myself as equal to others. As a survivor of abuse I know from experience that some people aren't equal to others. They aren't believed for whatever reason. Its okay to overlook them, okay to blame them for everything, okay to laugh at them in their face, okay to step on them. Isn't that the perfect set up for teaching a person how to view others on a sliding scale of worth? ...continue reading
It's difficult to feel as though my personal problems are worth complaining about when the world is a mess and leaders trample over basic human rights and are void of basic human decency. Even though there is global discord, domestic discord doesn't stop.
Today I was to have an inspection by the manager and maintenance man. They were to show up sometimes between 10 am and 5 pm. At 10:15 am I got a letter in my door saying the manager is rescheduling the inspection. This is the 3rd reschedule. I opened the door as she tried to slither away. I told her that this isn't acceptable to keep putting this off. She said all the other residence are rescheduled, too. She said, I can't do anything right for you..... I didn't respond...... I said, the other residence weren't denied a lease or told they are being evicted. She said, you're on a lease Faith, until the end of this month. I said, you know very well I'm not on a lease, you denied me and tried to evict me. I said, I'm not on a lease. I said, you know what the letter said. She said, if you allow us in on the 25th of the month then you can sign another lease. I said, I contacted your supervisor about this farce.
May is the one year mark of the death of my brother and mother. I found out in June of 2016 but they died in May. This is another reason I'll be playing it really close to the vest. I feel so .... thin.....fragile.
Through this whole issue of grief, I will be many things. I'll be a minute to minute survivor. I'll be angry, grieved, at peace, wordy, creative, exhausted and a million other things. I wish I could say that things will go back to settled but they won't. It's impossible for me to fathom normal with that baby gone. I can't imagine normal but I can hope for settled with less gut wrenching pain.
I'm battling my mind and body.
I've had sporadic periods where pain has knocked me off my feet. Funny thing is, at the time I remember thinking to myself, I understand suicide. That thought would be strange if it wasn't for my brother's death being fresh on my mind. The lack of information concerning my sister weights heavily. It is also true that there are times I think I can't take another second of pain and that I'd rather be dead. Dr. D has noticed some PTSD issues associated with my chronic illness. I feel validated by that. This is traumatic. It's like my private civil war where I die every single time. There are times, like yesterday when I thought to myself, I understand suicide. ...continue reading