Dr. D started off the session with, did you know there's going to be an eclipse today? He said, I wanted to let you know because its going to get dark. I didn't want it to catch you by surprise. It would have but I would have figured it out I think, maybe. Michelle 2:13 pm
We talked about how my sister lived with my friend and her husband only three miles from me. She lived there for a year. A year! We went to the same grocery store but never ran into one another. How is it possible to be that close to me but not see me? Dr. D asked what about this knowledge is so upsetting. It's the magic, ya know, the wand that tosses out fairy dust that makes her see me in a different light. If she could just see me from time to time maybe she wouldn't hate me so much. Its the fantasy of her changing because I need her to.
What a vicious thing to tear family apart by abuse and lies. That is a crime that keeps offending.
We talked about how to move past how I think about my sister, how I think about my needs from her. It all starts with my thinking. If I change my thinking I can change my actions. Maybe I'll stop longing for her so grievously.
First and foremost, I have nothing to prove.
I'm not disgusting or dirty. I've not committed a crime to say the opposite. I don't have to convenience myself of anything. It is well established that I'm lovable. That was one of the biggest and most destructive lies they told. ...continue reading "Therapy Review: Prove Yourself"
Content: Self image. Sexual abuse w/ frank speech at times. Discussion of the mother forcing a gender role for the purpose of abuse, hatred of men, degrading women, the mother's sexuality. It's a heavy entry, one difficult to write.
We started off going over art pieces in my sketchbook. We talked about which color I've used most and changes in how I depict figures. One art piece not posted was drawn to signify how pervasive sexual abuse was in most aspects of my young life.
Dr. D asked why I add heavy markings below the eyes. I said its all about color significance and my own symbolism. (see art therapy gallery) When I put blue under the eyes I'm trying to say that no matter what I'm going through or how negative I feel about myself, I understand on a different level that these thoughts are based on lies. I'm able to better see that my self image isn't based on reality but abuses as a youth and young adult. ...continue reading "Therapy Review: Identity. Gender. The Mother’s Sexuality"
He asked about my depression. I was honest. I agreed that I need to find a psychiatrist because the depression isn't something that's getting better. I have days where I don't feel so heavy but this depression isn't getting any better. Where do I find the energy or drive to search for a psychiatrist.
He asked about my eating. I was honest. I'm eating mostly crackers, peanut butter sandwiches and Cheerios. I stay close to bed. He knows it's not like me to neglect hygiene. Even as I type that I'm thinking about going back to sleep.
My leg is back to normal. I see the new doctor the 22nd. Thinking about these appointments I have this month make me want to go back to sleep. It feels so big. I don't want to get to know a new doctor. I don't want to look at this woman and see a look on her face that says she doesn't want to treat me. I don't want the rejection. What if I get there and she says its better for me if I go somewhere else because I need more care than she can give?
I racked my brain trying to think of what it is my sister can't forgive herself for. At first I thought, does it have anything to do with me? I wanted there to be something she felt for me. It's another slap in the face and another dose of cold reality.
It sounds absurd now, to think she feels anything for me other than contempt. Why did I even think she grieved over me to the point of believing she is no longer worthy of life? I guess because I thought I'm the only person who hasn't used and abused her. I'm her younger sister. I'm still alive, the other members of our immediate family are not. Our mother and father are deceased, my brother is gone. It's just me and her. ...continue reading "Hate in Cement"
It occurred to me that when abuse is reported the concerned person is saying that the person being abused doesn't deserve it.
The one who reports abuse is saying, this is unjust and I'm not going to sit by and let this happen.
The one reporting abuse offers their strength to the abused and offers their voice because they recognize vulnerability.
Even when done anonymous, it takes a healthy conscience and inner strength to report abuse. My mother had neither.
I understand why my mother never reported accounts of abuse we shared with her in strict detail. She never saw those kids as living beings with the universal right to safety and peace. She didn't recognize their worth. My mother probably never expected anyone to go to bat for me. How sorely she underestimated the worth of her children, too.
I honestly didn't expect to survive her, but I did. Most days I'm happy I did because there's so much more to see and do.
Content: Discussion of childhood sexual abuse. Processing a life of lies and abuse that leaves us unable to connect to others. Being raised by a female sadist.
I hung up from my therapy session and tossed it out of my head. These sessions have been too hard to deal with.
The main thing I got from therapy was that I am able to stand back and look at a person's track record and see that person as multidimensional instead of having just one characteristic. The reason that's important is because it makes me better able to see myself as the sum of my experiences without defining myself by just one.
If you ask me, my mother was primarily an abuser. She was a self centered, me first, sadistic abuser. If my mother was an abuser, what does that make me? The immediate answer is, guilty. Was I guilty of being bad and that's why my mother abused me? Can I really back up that claim? Even if my heart fears I am bad, I know for a fact that being abused had nothing to do with who I was as a child or who I am as an adult. My heart can deny that truth but it still stands firm that it was about her needs not my behavior. No matter who was born to that household, they would have been abused. ...continue reading "Therapy Review: Wildflowers"
I asked Dr. D that question because I recently saw a show about how damaging it is to children who witness domestic violence. The professional on the show said its damaging emotionally and physically. That lead me to wonder if it's true that it's physically and emotionally damaging for a child to witness the abuse of a sibling. He said yes. I figured it would be emotionally damaging but I wasn't sure how it would be physically damaging. He said it has to do with mind/ body connection. That's when I understood. Ah, okay..now we get back to how PTSD can, will and does ravage the body.
* Emotions involve a chemical reactions that touch almost every part of the body.
* An emotion isn't some random happening that's over as quickly as it occurred.
* There's a trail of chemical reactions long after conscious awareness of the emotion.
This is a whirlwind journal entry, a roller coaster journal entry with a bit of resolution at the end of the second part of it.
The old GP's office called twice today, once this morning and then directly after hanging up from my therapy session. The GP's office wanted to remind me that I am no longer their patient and to say a third time that the script for the muscle relaxer had been denied. This has been well established. Thank you for that.
Then......as soon as my super heavy phone session with Dr. D ended the old GP's office called AGAIN. This time the GP said he was willing to write me a script for 30 pills, not a refill but 10 days worth of medication. I was then told to make it last. "Make it last." ...continue reading "Old GP Calls Twice Today – I’m not your dog"
My therapist called around 7:30 pm yesterday evening. We talked for just a moment. I thought I would be able to fall back to sleep but I stayed awake until 3 am which meant I was hungry. I didn't expect to keep anything down but I did.
Flashback. I had a flash in my head just now of being beaten with the dowel rod as a teen. This would have been somewhere between the 9th and 10th grade. I was lying flat on my stomach protecting my face and hands. Sometimes when she beat me like that and the pain got to mind breaking point, I'd ask for a break. I'd tell her I couldn't take anymore and would roll facing up. She'd stop hitting and stand there with the dowel rod. I'm not good with time but I think I got less than 5 min before she needed to start again. She'd say, "Come on." and motion for me to turn back over. I did.
In my present physical health situation, I do not get to 'roll over' and say I need a break. But when I get a reprieve my goal is to take advantage of every opportunity to supercharge.
Content: Heavily emotional. Being labeled heartless is the main topic but I also mention the death of a grandparent and a grandparent complicit in abuse by his silence. There is extreme child abuse listed in a noted paragraph ***.
I read a blog entry this evening concerning a survivor that worries she may have a heart of stone because she can't cry. Follow her blog here. The subject has come up before, survivors that don't cry at all or don't cry easily may feel they are different from those of us who have found the vulnerability of tears less triggering.
I know a lot of people think crying is a show of weakness. If we didn't, we wouldn't hide our faces or apologize to others who see us cry. There's a need to protect others from our emotions so we shield them from our tears. Here in the West, tears in front of others may include guilt or it may suggest weakness. Weakness in relation to automatic emotional response is what I want to talk about.
When I was younger I figured out that my mother was looking for a reaction to her abuse. She was looking for shock value, for panic, for pain response. I knew when she hit me with dowel rods, when she assaulted me at all that she was looking for an emotional response. She looked me dead in the eye and I looked back. I learned with each session how to withhold her prize, a response. I held my ground. I refused to scream, to panic, to beg. Absolutely not! That's what she was after and that's what she would never get from me. Now, my sister, a totally different kind of survivor, one with her own adaptive skills, would scream when the mother was looking for a scream, would express pain from torture when that's what my mother was looking for. And she's shed her tears when the mother was looking for a response after humiliation. I realized it was all about the response and once I knew that, I refused it. I locked it up and I refused it. Admittedly, it wasn't all at one time. Being able to control outward emotion matched the effort taken to force it. ...continue reading "Child Abuse and the Sought After Reaction 1"