I used to feel so worthless that I didn't have a right even to feel angry or sad. After one series of the wrong kind of "help" I though if I "forgave" my father in a letter and apologised to him this would mean I could get well and all would be "forgiven". This man who is a pedophile, who terrorized us every day for 12 years of my life, literally trying to kill me almost daily for the last year left alone with him at one stage and the rest of the time left with my little brother to try and defend ourselves against and insane psychopath that though he "owned us" was once a man we had loved as our father and pinned our dreams onto for eventual happiness. Luckily for me my mother decided to "swan" home and "save" us, but seriously she then got with one of the kindest most decent men in the entire world (how... can't answer.. but he was my hero and altogether he died recently, will always be the father of my heart). My honorary father a man whom I could only ever imagine I could hope to fill his hopes and dreams for my happiness and my future.Feelings are very confusing. I can cry on a rare occasion and I "think" it is associated with fear, but I...
In grewing up through this craziness, one of my survival strategies was to develop a coping mechanism of a globalized anger that I used as "rocket fuel" to try and propel me the heck out of there and keep myself in a constantly controlled pma (positive mental attitude) Anthony Robins style state if mind. I didn't cry, I hated the word victim and refused to be one. No one was going to get the better of me again. Until one day I collapsed couldn't even use my body, saw words, stop functioning completely. (And had a child at school to take care of). Interestingly I only collapsed when alone. I had decided to quit my job as it was unhealthy as the bosses were drinking at work. I had earnt some money and thought the best plan was to leave and become a better mother and be there instead of a nanny which I had become to rely on few years earlier. Quitting my job and being alone at home took all of my automatic functioning away and all I could be was a lump on the floor. When it was time for my daughter to return I would become high functioning again but without work I was in trouble. It's been a very long journey and to tell you the truth in some ways it's still only just beginning. I never got to develop a "me". I was a misfit puzzle of reactionary responses with a very confused view of the world. But in my favor I wanted a) to be a good mother. b) to be good not bad as a person c) wanted to be " successful". And basically that's still the same today.