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Around The Bend

I am also sick of being "fat" again and am eating very low amounts. This helps me feel more in control when I feel not in control.
This dream is ultimately about not being in control. Growing up in an abusive home with sociopathic personalities, a girl works very hard to establish a sense of

Self (selves-the true self is so well hidden, even I can't find her)
Safety (well, some sort of predictability or order and honing vigilance and avoidance) Flying under the radar.
Values (perfectionism, leading to workaholism?) Can't seem to value the values when they didn't help, now I don't feel they exist except in my imagination. Where are the "good people" of the world? They never stood up for me anyway. Now my H is all I got for "good people." I am, naturally, terrified of losing him in any way.
Boundaries (not letting anyone in to the real me, not even me)

About losing H.

Today I had a large meeting. I was so nervous. It was hard to feel dressed "right." I wanted to blend in a bit. Finally found something to do that. Felt, once again, I NEED to go shopping, but I can't. When I do, the wrong "me" is shopping and she buys all the wrong clothes. This is a huge problem that I keep sweeping under the rug. I also won't buy clothes if I don't feel thin enough to deserve them.

SO, I'm getting major eye twitching/spasms that I am trying to control. I worked hard to appear not too stressed. I made myself breath. I made myself look around at people and sit upright in a confident way. Fake it til you make it. My heart raced if I thought of saying anything to help.

This is how it felt to go to school and college until I adjusted to feeling okay, which takes me a lot of time, and since these meetings are so infrequent, they don't get any better. :( I have been with this faculty group 2+ years, but I have largely avoided them. Today, I faced it. It was hard, but I did it.

Okay, so one man I know from visiting his church sat right next to me. I have seen his wife recently at our park with another man. She mentioned being "separated." Okay, so he announced they are getting divorced and he started crying and stopped talking.

I felt like an emotional bomb went off right next to me and I froze a bit. I didn't know what to say. I felt horrible for him; I imagine what that would be like for me, and I can't even go there. I had to get out of there at the end and called my H. to meet up with me. I spent the next few hours with him talking and crying. I feel so needy. I am so needy.

I get that I have an attachment disorder (no f*cking mother from day 1 of my life could be bothered). I was supposed to be "independent" from birth on, as much as possible. I walked to kindergarten, miles away alone. I made my own lunch when I got home. I raised my sibs to a certain extent, and tried to protect them from the monsters when they came "out."

I get it; I got triggered by abandonment stuff. It hurt a lot. I feel terrible for this guy. His pain was too raw and fresh. It was really hard to see. I feel poisoned by it. No emotional shield.

So I went back to work and was dealing with a racing heart the rest of the day. Got some work done somehow, but very distracted by the emotion. Now I feel on autopilot. I feel sort of numb now. Meetings are so damn hard for me, and every damn time I go I get some emotional bitch slap. This was actually okay, because the whole group was empathetic and kind. But last time it was a mean girl attack that kept going, out of jealousy. I wish I wasn't so damn sensitive.
 
I'm still processing a conversation.

I called my mom yesterday, from work, so that she wouldn't have my cell number because her home phone won't take blocked calls. I guess I could have tried calling her cell from mine *67 but I didn't want to try that and get her out shopping.

So I talked with her (had to take an extra dose of Lorazepam to just pick up the phone with sweating palms) AVOIDANCE!!!! and call her. I really hate her for not believing me that my Dad sexually abused my sis and I. It's been a 2.5 year separation. While she's all "I miss you," I am feeling like I can't put enough space between us. I also hate talking with her and hearing "I don't believe you and think you are crazy, but I love you." It's a whole other kind of violation, that, in some ways, is worse because I want her to love me, and feel that she has no idea how to do that.

So I told her about my concerns about my niece who is 16 in outpatient drug rehab for teens and my sister who is not supporting it, and is trying to sweep it all under the rug. So, as usual, I broadcast it. I'm the family reporter.

How can we fix it if nobody knows what's going on?

So I emailed her and my bro; my bro didn't reply but told my sis that I told him; so she's pissed at her ex for telling me. Typical.

I see this need to "protect" everyone from the truth in her. I get that. We have done it for so long, it's automatic now. Had to protect everyone, including self, from the truth of our Dad abusing us. It's still the MO. How much do I really want to remember? Nada.

----I even told her about remembering the abuse by the man and his adult daughter who were grooming us girls at my friend's house. She kinda freaked out. She also said that that guy George was at our house watching football games at night while we were in bed. She said he could have got up to use the bathroom and abused us in our bed.

It just seems such a long shot that he would and that my dad would also be pulling the same tricks in the middle of the night. I told her that even if that happened, I have continuously remembered my Dad sadistically whipping us naked waist down and molesting us after, and enjoying it, and lying about it. So I don't think George was the one who did the major trauma in our house, repeatedly, at night. Unless he was there late into the night often, it's not even possible. And even then, it doesn't change everything else, and the sexual abuse my Dad did do, which is bad enough along with everything else he did. Like spanking with a 2x4 for stupid things, always being angry at us, never letting us go anywhere, and treating us like we were some kind of disease that only his contempt could manage with his glares and raised voice and anger. He was always threatening to beat us up, and did sometimes, whipping with the power cord to my sister (who denies it now).

After talking with my mom, I feel like I talked with Satan's assistant. I feel dirty and like I participated in my own victimization. But I only called her to discuss my niece/sister situation. She immediately wanted to fix our relationship and offered to take a Polygraph and have Dad also take one.

I told her there is no way he will really take it; it's all talk. I told her that even if he passed it, it changes nothing. I have a lifetime of trying to get away from him and hating him for what he did. I have 36 years of my life running on the PTSD program. I was never not PTSD/depressed. I can't remember a time when I didn't wish I wasn't born. NO stupid test is changing that.

I told her only his failing it would help, because they would all have to stop treating me like a f*cking moron for speaking out about this. And I said when my sister finally (if she recovers enough) comes to the same conclusion I have, because it's what happened, then what? She said, "I'll divorce him."

"Just curious...Why after being married for nearly 40 years to this man would you get divorced over this?" I asked, as gently as possible.

She was resolute "Because then he's put me through this hell for 2.5 years when he could have confessed and we could have tried to get him into therapy and see what can be done to help with this."

I just don't really empathize with my mom. I'm like 2.5 years? Try forever! He's been lying to everyone forever! It's been hell for me for my whole f*cking life. f*ck your 2.5 years!

So I'm angry. I can't see past my pissed offness with this woman. She seems immune to empathy. She is myopic and can't see my suffering.

I asked her WHY she doesn't believe me. She said "It doesn't add up in my brain. Nothing you say adds up to make sense to what I know." But she admits it's possible something happened and she never knew about it. Just inconceivable. She "Knows" him and "he's not into kids."

I'm like "Sure, like he would tell you that he was." Really? I'm pretty sure he'd need to keep that one a secret, especially when he is a criminal.

I finally just asked her "Have you known this all along and are just protecting him?" She said "No."

I want to believe her, and that bothers me. It simpler to just hate them both. Black and white thinking. But it's possible she really can't imagine the abuse occurred, especially because she has a very simple mind and is not perceptive to subtle things; she is in her own world, very self-centered. She is one of those people who lack empathy and people skills intelligence. Practically socially retarded like her mom was. But she and her mom showed genuine caring often. They just didn't have the brains to follow through.

I am anxious that:

1. nothing will happen
2. he will refuse to test, and her niggling doubts will just fester there and die out in the routine
3. he will test and pass using his medical knowledge, access to drugs, bribe $$, whatever cheat he can
4. he will test and fail but nobody cares; "it's a fluke, some mistake was made, these people are so biased"
5. he will test and fail; and my mom will divorce him; and everyone will blame me
6. he will feel cornered and confess to her rather than a stranger-who knows what will happen then? I want this, but I admit it could blow up in various ways. He could kill himself or just die alone. Again, I get blamed for initiating the dialogue about the truth.
7. I get more lies and excuses, and I feel angry for getting my hopes up that anything at all could shift them out of self-preservation and denial

What sucks, is that I felt something for my mom. I can't even locate the feeling, it's so very messed up. I hate that part of me loves this shit mom. I feel like I marched through a thousand pit toilets after speaking to her. I won't accept her love if she won't accept the truth. What does that make me? I reject my own mother. I reject her for rejecting "me" the real "me." For playing favorites and for siding with the perpetrator, she is complicit and tainted. She is laced with poison. There is nothing in the world that can help that. I meant it when I said she is shit to me. She really is. And there is not a thing I can do about that fundamental emotion.
 
Why do I go all logic? I can't connect my head to my heart in this damn journal. All this cussing wants to come out and that's it. Nobody wants to read that!

Why can't I use descriptive modifiers to illustrate the actually feelings? Why can't I label them?

Damn it! Like when my mom was gone and my Dad, all smiles is trying to put my hair into a pony tail for school in 1st grade, and the feeling of his hands touching my head makes me wish I could kill him because he feels he has any right to pretend to be a good, helpful, normal Dad after raping me?!? I just froze and kept this hatred locked up because I was little and needed "them" to parent me. But I hated myself for needing them. Now I hate myself for being 36 and not having had the means to get out of that place. Why didn't I run away, tell the police? Why? I just let it all settle down into my body to come out as all kinds of nasty body memories for the rest of my life. Well, I'm angry with myself. Why did I allow this to happen, and why did I let the schmoozing and the family vacations and the little crumbs of love pacify the rage?!? Why did I live on autopilot and try to convince myself they actually loved me? And what if they actually did? So what does it matter if I hate them?

I wish I could erase my childhood and just have total amnesia. Like not feeling anything, not having PTSD anymore, just start today with life and leave the rest behind. But I can't. I have this history that made me who I am. Who I am is fine. But I'm not fine. I'm suffering for what they did, what I did and didn't do, what I can't control now.
 
Yes, so I guess in my heart I don't give a shit for their Polygraph. It means nothing. As I told her, "Nothing can undo what's been done. Nothing fixes this, so there is no win-win here."

My H. says it's even progress that she's willing to talk about the polygraph and divorcing if he confesses or if my sister remembers and tells, and if he fails it.

Truth is, I don't want a mom that needs a polygraph, a witness, and a confession to finally believe me. That is not belief, that is evidence and proof. She needs proof, I have my own memories and trauma. My trauma is my proof.

This is NOT progress. I've had this woman as my mother for 36 years, which is long enough to know that she's not the Mom I want or need. No Polygraph is gonna matter for that. He could confess (which is unlikely; it is very unusual that pedo's confess) and it would not help, because she is still gonna be the same cold bitch who looked the other way when I needed her most and said she would never go to counseling for me because they are too hard on the parents.
 
It's been a hectic, hurried week of starting teaching and carrying the normal work load as well, plus getting prepared for a week-long trip. My body is not happy. Shoulders are very tense and sore.

I have had to take a 3-week hiatus from therapy. Of course, I wouldn't have had time, money, or energy for it, but it's been a time period in which some advice would not have gone amiss.

My niece cracked open a new wound with drug outpatient rehab. It's hard to learn that your sweet, innocent loved teen is using and sleeping around with strangers. To top it off, my sister who refuses to heal laid into me while her daughter was holed up in her friend's home-based rehab. No mention of the real stressor. No, I was the target; I needed to go have demons cast out of me. Yeah, that got me off FB permanently. Just way too easy for your relatives to lash out and vent their stress at you for no reason.

I let my mom know, breaking a 2.5 year cold war, that her grand-daughter is a druggie. Nice week for me. My body is not happy about it. I still feel yucky and weird from just talking to my mom, who still does not believe me without "proof."

Love needs reasonable doubt, not proof. I have never lied and have been as reliable as the sun for my entire life. She really bets against the wrong people. I see that she can't relate to stability and honesty. Don't really know what her problem is. Something is not right with her; she and my sister are highly secretive. They are in the closet about who they are. Guess it doesn't take much.

You are either in the closet a lot, or always trying to come out, or just not able to be in it. I am the middle one: I'm always trying to get to know myself better, be more comfortable in my own skin, accept myself, and treat myself well. But how much of oneself to bare in front of others is always a scary tipping point to me. I am never wanting to show my true self either. It feels inherently uncomfortable and unsafe.

So maybe it's our family culture. I mean how does a family hide incest and drug abuse while appearing so "respectable" for nearly forty years? Yes, that is a very private culture. No openness feels right.

Well, how do you keep trying to be open when it feels like you are showing your cards to everyone during the poker game?
 
I recall an older friend who has gone though similar, only a more wealthy East Coast background. Her advice? "Fly under the radar!"
Sound familiar?
There is a cost, my 2nd therapist said. Her goal was to crack me like a nut. I needed to let it ALL OUT! To everyone. Just open the f*ck up!

Well, how? It's like telling someone to start breathing water and grow gills real quick! I just can't be like that, all of a sudden. It's even hard taking tiny baby steps. And, NO, it does not feel like much of an accomplishment to finally tell someone things about myself. I feel like I've done something so terrible. And now they have info on me, so that if they want to hurt me, they have more to use in that. Also, if we end the relationship, I feel they possess too much of my soul.
 
I And now they have info on me, so that if they want to hurt me, they have more to use in that. Also, if we end the relationship, I feel they possess too much of my soul.

@Muse - That's why I'm here, Muse. If I do tell anyone about what my childhood is like, I'm on guard, watching their faces to make sure there isn't any pity or disgust. When it's detected, the relationship is over. Because that's my hangup. I mistake their attempt at empathy for feelings of re-victimization.

I don't think you can "let it all out" until your ready to. And I hope you have a peaceful night :-)
 
You are letting a lot out here on this forum. Not everyone needs to know all the details of our lives. Here, in this place of healing, you can let it all out. That will be in your own time. It's not enough to know on an intellectual level that here is safe, you need to feel it in your heart. When you get there the words will flow. For now let it come out as it feels right to you. The cuss words don't bother me so that's at least one reader you will not lose. You are doing a fabulous job! :tup:

If you check this while on your trip, I hope you are having a wonderful time.
 
You're both so sweet and good to reply so. Thank you for taking the time to post a thoughtful response to my frustration.
That has been the feeling a lot lately, I suppose. Thus the out-of-character expletives.

This trip has been a rough time. Body memories and being very triggered by the music of the parades, the crowds, and not being in my routine. Every time I try to help my family enjoy something, the parks totally messed it up, so that I feel like God is laughing at me. It wouldn't be so bad, but it was literally the whole time. I wait in a line for nearly an hour to get a latte, it tastes awful, and then my H. accidently dumps it all over me, and curses loudly because he's mad at himself for what he thought was to burn me. The combo of the surprise dumping and the frustration and the cursing, triggered me up, such that I went back to the hotel dissociated and had the Body Memories stabbing in my anus and vagina pains worse than ever before along with just generally feeling like I'm five and have no control over what happens to me. Took 4 Ambian to knock myself out for the rest of the day to sleep it off rather than float in and out of dissociative pain and flashbacks. I felt better the next morning, after crying and talking to H.

Still, had a total panic attack on the first day of the car trip also for like no reason. The whole time, I put so much work and planning into the trip that it actually made it impossible to calm down and enjoy it. Instead, I feel like I failed at everything and let everyone down. I felt like my H. would have had more fun if I stayed home. It is hard to overcome this feeling that I am not wanted or not good at being human. I felt suicidal thoughts creep in and thought my family would be better off without me. Thus, I medicated it as I had nobody to talk to alone in the hotel with no good internet or anything. It's probably something that I will want to discuss in therapy soon. I get it that it's "hyper-intention," which is self-defeating, but also, just plain exhaustion.

Right now, I am totally insomniac and can't even think of sleeping although I could hardly wait to get to the hotel to sleep at 10 pm. I am so tired and my body is totally swollen and bloated up. I can't recognize my ankles (where did they go?) or feet or legs.

I feel so sick with my PTSD from this trip that I am giving up the idea of ever taking time off again. It has been absolutely terrible on my body. I get so sick from it.

The more I work, the better I feel. Yet, I get run down from that, too, at times.

I just felt totally not in control and disoriented this week. It has been really hard to just soldier on and have a positive attitude, as usual, when I feel like I'm literally going to die. Every few minutes in the car, I think we are going to die in an accident. I am so tired. I keep feeling so hypervigilant.

I want to get the Chicago block. This is not living, and my meds literally don't work for me anymore. I am just dependent on them to survive now. :(
 
Ah, lost my post. 2nd time tonight. I can't sleep. I am so tense I feel like I'm going to explode and die.

Why did I think I would enjoy a vacation? I can't predict what I will be like. I have never found it this hard to enjoy a trip. I've also never had to plan it mostly myself. Too much pressure on me, I guess. But it's me or nothing at all, and I wanted my kids to have a fun time and memories.

Going to have to sleep in the car on the way home, I guess. This hotel room is so creepy and haunted that it scared my 4 year old who is fearless, and then I couldn't close my eyes either, as I feel someone is "here" in the room. I don't know if it's just my PTSD and projecting fragments or if my child and I do sense something. I hear a singing that also sounds a bit like crying faintly and then feel a presence. This is not the first time this has happened.

I hate being psychic and PTSD; a very bad combination for me, I will confess. I'd rather be insensitive to energies. I can't wear a watch; too much kinetic energy in my body and field. Batteries won't last and I have to replace them constantly; it gets too expensive.
 
Finally fell asleep about 4:00 am, when I was too tired to care about the little girl. I saw her crawling out of the bathroom on all fours to hide, a very shy spirit. My daughter half woke up and was talking to the girl, saying "Just leave our stuff where we left it..." She smiled, "Don't move any of it. Just leave it there," and she feel back asleep with some coaxing and cuddling. The worst was the singing and crying followed by a knocking in the walls or ceiling. Her presence was so strong until after 4 am, so I finally felt "alone" in the room to sleep. Tired!
 

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