I've thought a lot of my mother lately. In therapy Friday afternoon we talked about traveling, the orchestra, theater, opera and all the cultural things she loved. It's a strange contrast between the tyrant and the artist but there was in fact a contrast, one I loved. I recall my mother singing around the house. I knew when she sang it would be a safe day. For some reason when she sang all the vile went away.
One of my mother's favorite animals is the African Elephant which is why I purchased a notebook with one on the cover. I also liked the quote which says: Colors speak louder than words.
The loss is incredible.
Grant mercy please.
She left deep wounds, many questions, but no answers. I have to find resolution in wreckage.
In the notebook I've written letters to my mother, some kind, others telling her exactly how I felt living with her. These letters and drawings are just another step in healing from the war god I called mother. ...continue reading "Mother’s and Grey Elephants"
I've tried to write this entry since Monday but I've run from it. I don't really want to write it because it hurts.
Therapy was hard, as usual. We went over the dream where the man was stabbed in the hallway. As I told Dr. D the part about hearing the man stabbed to death while hiding in the closet, Dr. D blurted out, "You know that's your brother, right?" I said, "Yes, and my sister." Here I am age 46 and I can still hear them both scream. I can still feel the fear as if I were backed in a corner watching, again. I told Dr. D that hearing my siblings abused or seeing it happen often felt worse than being abused myself. I remember it so clearly and I am certain it's what divides us to this day. ...continue reading "Therapy Review – Slaughtering Peace of Mind"
We talked about feeling depressed in a different way than what I'm used to feeling. There's an underlying feeling of not caring about anything and just wanting someone to take out of my stomach whatever it is that's eating me alive. I'm so tired right now I can't see straight. Sleep didn't come easily.
He said it'll be important to talk to the medical doctor and to tell her that I wonder if there's a hormonal connection. Does that play into things?
He said I'm intense right now. It felt like when talking to him that my thoughts were all over the place. I was tired, holding my gigantic bear, facing the wall.
I told him that feeling suicidal isn't new for me. What's new is not caring. I always find a way out, always. I don't always fight because sometimes fighting the situation makes it worse, but I'm not one to throw in the towel anymore.
Content: Sexual abuse. Innocence of children. Violent speech. Anxiety insight.
I vomited up details just to give them away because I don't want them anymore. I've not gotten to say what I want to say, the way I want to say it. He doesn't flinch when I add anger and resentment to my words.
My dreams weren't good but they didn't plague me. I laid in bed for a bit and watched a short lecture then got ready for therapy. We talked about how wonderful it's been to have my new buddy and how there's renewed courage to leave the house and go further than usual. I can't explain why a dog gives me that courage but he does.
We talked about the gift of sleep and how I can close my eyes and go to sleep without looking at the door fearing someone from my past will be standing there. It's not possible to stand in the doorway without Clyde letting me know. So I close my eyes and go to sleep....because I can.
The anxiety is still out of control with no real answer as to why. It's there, it's huge and it's not going anywhere soon. Dr. D and I went over a few things that could assist with managing it. We talked again about getting a stationary bike. I have to do something physical to relieve anxiety like this. Sometimes I just need to run from myself, get out of my skin and my head. I remember riding a bike back when I had a measure of health to do so. Man I miss it terribly. That's one of the best feelings ever. I know this bike will be stationary but my current need for it will be met because the motion of riding is what I seek. I figure since this is holiday time I can put one in the layaway at Walmart or something. ...continue reading "Therapy Review: Managing Anxiety. Relief"
We talked about how there's no reason on earth I shouldn't trust that I get to keep Sir Clyde for a very long time. We discussed anxiety and grief concerning Mary Jane and some guilt that I have another pet so early after her passing. It feels like I tried to replace her but as I've said (I just have to always remember it) Mary Jane helped me be able to give even more love to the next four-legged friend in this house. Clyde is here now and I look forward to spending a very long time with him.
A few pieces of anxiety artwork.
We talked about how I became so frustrated with someone who kept giving me way too much information when all I needed was a simple answer. My head was swimming in information that just confused me. Processing words seems complicated at times. The words stop 5 inches from my face and mean nothing to me. I get frustrated and shut down. ...continue reading "Therapy Review: Trust. Guilt. Anxiety Art. Community"
Content: Biological mother issues, emotional abuse, emotional walls, letting go
Dr. D and I discussed grief over not having what he calls a healthy mother. I said I don't grieve not having a healthy mother, I grieve not having my mother. I've been very clear over the years that what my heart sought most was some kind of way for my mother to see me as someone other than a disgusting rag to be used up at her will. I wanted to be someone she could look at without disgust, without false blame. She couldn't do it or wouldn't, it doesn't really matter which. Even after my mother was diagnosed with dementia, I still hoped to be something other than disgusting to her. I figured if she couldn't remember me then maybe she'd look at me with something other than disdain. That didn't happen.
Today Dr. D and I discussed saying "no" to my mother and the consequences of doing so. My teeth began to chatter. I was rocking back and forth. I had to get a hold of myself.
Last night I was in the bedroom and instinctively turned to verify she wasn't in the doorway but for just a second I saw her. Obviously it was my head playing games, but for a second I thought I saw her standing there, which is why I turned to look. I had a scarf hanging over the door which created a figure in my peripheral vision. Turning to look isn't new. I have to force myself to not look at the door. I have to tell myself there's no way she's in the house, stop worrying, remember I'm safe now. But that's not enough, I have to look at the bedroom door to ease my mind. ...continue reading "Therapy Review: Control. Gaining confidence."
We talked about the grieving process. I haven't been emotional in front of people, which may make me seem cold to her passing. It's been more private and I'm certain it'll stay that way. I'm running, that's for sure. I need distractions; I have them.
One distraction is the mean streak of Betty. I could go on and on about Betty but why? Until I change it, there's no reason to go on and on. The woman is a constant problem.
I told Dr. D that I'm working on getting different transportation to the store on Tuesday's but that I have real problems in cars. The only place I'm terribly claustrophobic and scared is in a car. I need to know I can get out and I need to know the person behind the wheel won't attack me physically. I need to know they aren't going to start hitting me, slapping me, threatening to drive into on coming traffic, won't scream "I'm killing us all" followed by driving off the road to wreck the car. (Times like this make me think I hate my mother.) ...continue reading "TR: Jane. Pain. Alternative Medicine"
I started giving Jane several very small meals a day so that she kept food on her stomach. She hasn't thrown anything up. She's not drinking as much as she was but she is still drinking. She stays in the corner and sleeps much of the time. I brush her as usual, once per day.
I feel guilty thinking to myself that I fear getting caught alone after she goes. I can't live alone. I need something alive with me. I love frogs and fish but I need something to mother, something to dote over and fuss about. I don't do well completely alone. ...continue reading "Jane. Pushing. Memorial Box"