Everything I Can Do- for therapy Tuesday afternoon
Tuesday, November 21, 2006- 2:33AM EST
It’s everything I can do to keep my head on straight when I can feel my mother hitting me or when I turn around to say something to her and realize that I’m in my own home, in my own free life. It angers me. It’s hard to keep from hurting myself but so far I have managed to do just that. I haven’t written a whole lot about what’s been going on inside because I wasn’t sure I could do it without really crumbling. Hell, there’s a lot of stuff I don’t write in the journal simply because I can’t bring myself to do it.
The most recent upset came when I passed my grandmother’s house twice. Unknowingly the last two times I’ve come to see you Blossom drove right by my grandmother’s house. I asked her to take a different route to your office the second time. I didn’t figure we’d have to worry about going that route again but she did so I told her we might want to take another route. She had no clue we were on that side of town where the grandmother lives or lived. I don’t know if she’s still there or not but that house is still standing. I’m surprised evil hasn’t blown itself up, crumbled under its own strength and combusted. I swear that house is where some very ugly things happened. That house is where I was the first time I was molested by my male cousin at age 3. I got my ass beat for it too. The mother said to never let him do it again. Yeah, whatever, he did and she knew it but it was easier to keep her mouth shut and kick my ass when we got home than it was to confront him about it. He scared everybody in that family. Hell, he’s living proof that monsters can be created.
I don’t think I’ve been so paranoid as I have been in the last two weeks, afraid that when I leave the house I’m going to run into a family member. It makes me want to pick up and go right back to Tyler where I belong. I spent equal amounts of time in Indiana, Tampa and Texas but to me Tyler is home. I have no family there except for my ex-husband. I’m sure he’s either in jail or someone has killed his stupid ass so I don’t think I have to worry about running into him in Tyler. It’s not like I’m going to pick up and move anyway. That would only solve a few things but the majority of my baggage would come right along with me. Running with baggage doesn’t get me anywhere. I know that for sure because I’ve done it too many times.
Listen, the fear we feel right now is tremendous. We struggle to remember that this is our house and that we are safe. Dr. B we can feel her hit us. We can smell her. The back of my head throbs and my eyes are so heavy they want to shut but when I go to bed I dream of her and when I can feel her hitting me it scares the crap out of me so badly that I wet my pants. The humiliation is that I’m 35 years old and scared to death of the memory of her. You and I have talked about how she really can’t hurt me anymore. She’s wheelchair bound now, suffocating from Obstructive Pulmonary Disease. She’s on oxygen and wasting away quickly but I’ve not bothered to check the obituaries because dead or alive makes no difference. When I sleep she is right there in vivid colour, every colour of anger and rage and every form of filthy words she can come up with to describe just how disappointed she is to have me as a daughter.
I have not touched the book I Can’t Get Over It in a few days because I wasn’t in the space to do it. I’ve been doing general emotional maintenance. I’m scared and I’m angry about being so afraid. I hear every single sound, see every single movement and it drives me crazy. And it drives me crazy to think I can feel dowel rods hit my skin. What makes me furious is even though she has not hit me in years I still feel the warmth she promised me I’d feel. She said after being hit God gives a special gift of warmth so that you don’t feel the blows as much. She said it was a loving gift from him. You know what? If I didn’t feel that warmth when I was younger it told me that he really didn’t love me and that what Mama said was true, he is going to destroy me. When I can feel her hitting me, even though she’s not here in this house, when that memory is gone I feel that warmth … a sick and fucked up warmth sweeps over me and for a moment I’m satisfied….like maybe, maybe she was right maybe it’s a gift. When I was young I use to crave that warmth, that closeness to God. I hoped that if he knew I was here he’d come and get me and sweep me away from this madness. I swear I’d close my eyes and think of him sweeping me up, of me wrapping my arms around his neck, his huge hand holds my head on his shoulder as he shushes me saying, everything is okay. I’ve got you. I’m here now. I thought for sure he’d come and do that. I thought it would be the greatest gift in the world, to be swept up by God and taken out of that place.
Old lies hang on with a death grip. Why would God have me beaten then reward my pain with some natural anesthesia that would leave me warm? Why would he dole out pain then give me a warm blanket to wrap myself up in. My mother is that cruel, not my God. The funny thing is, when it comes down to it, I don’t trust either one of them. I trust my God more but not the way I would like to. It all gets mixed up when you’re told that if he loves me he’ll give me this warmth that sweeps over me to make the beating more comfortable. I have general trust issues and God is not exempt from those issues. I know where they come from but I still don’t trust him. And I feel like a hypocrite addressing him in prayer. I want badly to pray again but I can’t bring myself to do it. I’d like to ask him to please, just for tonight, please let me sleep a manageable sleep, just tonight. I can not ask him that, not knowing that he knows that I don’t fully trust him. I miss my relationship with him. I wish I could bring myself to call on him during these times but why? Why when I know I’m doing stuff that is just straight up wrong and why when most of the time all that I could get out of my mouth would be please help me cause I can’t keep going like this.
I left on your voicemail that we’ve been feeling suicidal but that we’ve worked hard to not do anything. We haven’t cut or anything at all. We’ve managed to eat a real meal daily, to shower daily, to take meds and to go outside for fresh air daily. We are hanging on by the skin of our teeth. Some triggers are harder than others. Driving by that old house is the most recent hard trigger, even worse than remembering my foster brother’s past.
What I need from you tomorrow is for you to remind me that I’m safe. I can say it forever but there is always that voice in the back of my head that says I’m fooling myself. So I’m gonna need an outside voice to give me a reality check please.
Blossom and I talked about suicide and how my view of it has changed. It may cross my mind on a daily basis but after being the surviving friend of that act my views are totally different. I’ve promised myself and my friends that I will go in patient before things get so bad that I try and hurt myself. Today when Blossom showed up she wasn’t able to wake me. She thought I had done something to hurt myself. You know what Dr. B? My word is good. I will ask for help way before I get to the point where I think I can’t rationalize and keep myself safe. But I thought it was important to talk to her about it because when a person is this depressed the last thing they want to do is keep it from their family and friends so I talked to her about it. I do not expect her to rescue me but I didn’t want her to be in the dark as to how I’m really doing.
See you in a few hours
Austin
Austin, I’ve been thinking and thinking and thinking about this post. I was trying to think of what I could say that would bring you some sort of comfort, or some new way of seeing things. And really, I am without words. All that really comes to mind for me it just the one simple phrase, over and over. So I figured, I might as well say it. And it is this.
“God’s not like that”
I wish I had some eloquent way to explain what I am trying to say, so you will understand where I am coming from. But somehow, I think maybe what I am trying to say is that God is not up there in heaven judging you and feeling that you are not good enough for him, and hoping you don’t go bothering him with some prayer or something. He doesn’t see you that way, and neither do I. I think sometimes we can get our image of god from people, and so many times people and just…wrong. Your mom was wrong. What she did was wrong, and what she said to you was wrong.
When I was reading your post, I just had this deep sense of love, like god was saying austin is mine, and I really love her, and I’m sorry she is going through so much pain.
God is not waiting for you to get perfect before you talk to him, He really isn’t. If that were the case, then no one would ever be worthy of even praying, or seeking him in any way. I really think he wants us to talk to him, no matter what we say. He is big enough to handle our truth, who we are, the way we are, and our misperceptions of him. He can even understand our anger towards him. God listens, regardless of what we have to say. He listens, even when we complain. One of the most sinful men in the bible was david. He would say some awful disrectful and terrible things to god. I mean he would really chew god out. And god listened. And one of the things that warms my heart, was that the bible says over and over, that David was a man that god loved. God loved david even though david was continuosly sinful and mad and rebellious.
I don’t want to sound too religious, and I hope I don’t come accross that way, but I just really felt like I needed to tell you it’s ok to be honest with god. He can handle it.
Austin,
I agree that God, or the Higher Power as we understand it, isn’t like that. Reading a book that said something like that would only distress me.
It really galls me that you got the punishment for what your cousin did to you and were told not to “let him do it again.” You were three years old! What the hell kind of sense does that make? People are crazy! And sadly, your family was crazy and abusive.
Serious abuse can continue to affect a person years after the fact. Be kind to yourself when you feel terrified even if it seems to make no sense. In fact it does make plenty of sense. You’re doing the right thing to remind yourself and the others that your mother can no longer harm you. Remember to be patient with yourself about this. Best wishes to you.
aussie…
i feel im tiptoeing to comment on this post, because it is so open and real.
i think, i really do, that the worst things people do to each other, that hurt mangle the most, are done with the tongue. all the beatings in the world cannot equall the destruction dealt our souls by another’s tongue. especially when we are small, and have so little resource to judge what we are being told.
we can walk away from the physical assualts, and heal, and overcome. but the words we hear go down into the innermost being.
i am convinced, however, that there is nothing that can separate you from the love of God, nor overcome the superior power and effectiveness of His word, to heal and make you whole.
kïrstin
We can’t be there in person Austin, but we are with you in spirit. Carmon
There are parts of town I can’t enter because of relatives I had to end my relationships with. I hate it. Once I ended up in one of these areas by mistake, and nearly broke into a sweat. Felt like I was looking over my shoulder the whole time.
As for being a hypocrite if you pray, maybe you would be a bigger hypocrite not to, since you so badly want/need to. I don’t know if any of us totally trust God–and certainly trust is a major issue for us multiples. God, who created our minds and emotions, understands this. I think it hurts his heart that you are going through so much pain, alone. He draws close to the brokenhearted (not those who have it all together!), and those of a humble heart. Just lean your head on his shoulder if that’s all you can manage. No need for words, he already knows what you need to say.
PS I got in trouble once when my mom found my brother molesting me . . . her reasoning was, “How could you let him touch you like that?” Sick, isn’t it?
When you have trouble praying for yourself, there are others of us that will pray for you. My prayer is that you have a peaceful rest and wake up refreshed. Amen!
Austin: I’ve been having a hard time keeping up with your blog because…damn you guys just write so much (and so well), and I’m still hurting quite a bit myself. I know the body memories are hell. And it sounds like you’re dealing with a lot of PTSD symptoms, too. I’m so sorry it’s so painful. You never deserved any of it. I just want you to know that, even when I don’t get over here as often as I’d like, I think of you every day and I’m pulling for you.
Hi Austin
Sorry we haven’t been around to comment…you once told us to have signs up in our house, so we could see the words, make them more tangilbe, to know we are safe here and that none of the bad people can come in here. have you tried that yourself? It may help, it has really helped our littles feel safer.
thinking of you
Keepers