Finding Me

[Teamwork]

I read this and said ah, to you. It's hard to deal with all this, so someday I hope it will change for you and you will be able to say that punishment is no longer necessary.

 

[Leighlee87]

Emdr begins again next week, but we are finally nearing the end of it. We've honestly strung it out for a really long time, but it's the best I could do. Sometimes I wish I could be stronger and then I beat myself up for not. I'm beginning to realize that I'm allowing what happened to completely dictate everything from that moment forward, and I don't have to do so. I guess it's hard not to, because I link that event with the fact that I have ptsd in the first place. It marks the moment I stopped functioning as a human being.

Christmas was hard, and I'm still struggling. I need to process things, but I haven't had the time to do so. I've been running from it, hoping that the emotions would just bury back down, but they haven't. Instead, it's all sitting on top of everything ready to spill over. I'm afraid to let it. And I don't have the time or the space to do so, even if I do find the bravery to allow it.

I've been hiding from everyone lately, especially my mom, brother, and sister, because they are all that remain. They remind me of everyone I lost, so it's easier to stay away. I'm sure they are confused and hurt by it. I didn't call my brother for Christmas, because I would be able to hear my other brother's voice in his. Their voices sound too similar. I don't know if the holidays hurt because I miss the people, or if it hurts because I have to acknowledge that those relationships died. There are so very few things on this earth that can truly 100% sever a relationship between father and daughter forever without any chance for contact again, and he did it. And very few people can understand that, and there are very few people I am willing to share my story with. I want to curl up and go back to a time before all of this ever began, when my eyes were still closed--cause I still love him so much that it hurts and it feels like this huge gaping wound, even though he has no ability to comprehend love in a true form, I still want him. I want new memories to add to old memories. I want his hugs. I want him to tell me he loves me, that he's proud of me. I want bonfires and s'mores, and Sunday dinners. I just want to not hurt. And I hate him. And I miss him. And I'm conflicted. I don't want to eat, cause I want him to see that I hurt and that I haven't forgotten him. I want to cut and numb myself, and smell the blood and draw pretty designs on the floor with it while I get lost somewhere else sitting on the floor. How did I become this girl? And where did me go? T says that I don't get to go back to being her because trauma changes us. But I don't want to be someone else, I just want to go back to being me. I feel so incredibly lost.

 

[Leighlee87]

I swear these posts are gonna get more uplifting at some point. Just not yet.

Food is a no-go. I feel like I can think more clearly without it. That's horrible to say, but it's true. The dissociative episodes are less, the ptsd symptoms easier to manage. This is all why I reached out for help in the first place.

I tried to eat like a normal person, I managed it for about 2 days straight, but at that point I was scaring myself. I was losing hours of time, I was crying so hard I couldn't breathe, the panic attacks were coming one on top of the other. And yet I ate each meal, but it all felt worse and worse, more and more unrelenting. Not just during meals, constantly. Fear had nothing to do with food, it just was. I didn't know what was happening. I didn't know that during the trauma, I had developed ptsd. My eating disorder was masking the symptoms and making it survivable. At the end of day 2, I knew I needed to stop, that I was in over my head and truly couldn't do it on my own. I didn't know how to handle the intensity of the emotions I was feeling, I was drowning. The only way to cope was to starve myself. Do you have any idea what that feels like? When you realize that you HAVE to starve yourself, because you don't have any options when left on your own. That's a horrible, horrible feeling. I couldn't eat even if I wanted to. I couldn't eat even though the rational part knew I was hungry (even though the scared part said hell no anyways).

I forgot all about that moment of realization until recently. Christmas dinner was odd. I was just in a bad place. I was really dissociated from everything. I watched myself put food on my plate. Everything was portioned equally. 4 carrots, 4 green beans, a tiny pile of rice, same size pile of potatoes, small piece of ham. Everything was equally spaced. Hardly anything was touched. Everything was cut into small pieces, and it took several bites to even eat that small piece. Those OCD behaviors haven't presented since high school--10 years ago. Then, I thought about it, made it happen. This time, I didn't think about it--I watched it happen, watched myself eat it, felt nothing, and walked away--I felt as though I wasn't in control of my body doing it. I've stopped eating for the most part, and everything's come back. The high of it, it's like something clicked inside and I'm watching myself spiral. For anyone who has had long term eating disorders, they probably know this on/ off click. When things are activated/ or a little less progress is seen with weight loss. That activation turns on, and it all falls really fast. Part of me is saying uh-oh. Part of me is scared. Part of me knows I'm too thin to go spiraling at this point. The sick part of me is so excited, I might finally reach those goals. And more recently, the memory of realizing that I couldn't handle the emotions came back too. The explanation as to why everything is easier right now makes sense. I actually told my therapist that. I was doing a science experiment. Not eating= thinking more clearly. She asked my weight, it hadn't gone down much and since the holidays are difficult she was really pleasantly surprised. I'm praying she doesn't ask next week, because she won't be so happy then. I've lost way too much since Christmas.

On a really bad note, my brother was admitted to a psych unit for suicidal thoughts. He started struggling a lot. I'm so afraid that one day I'm going to lose him to this. He called my father, who didn't give a damn. I don't understand. My brother just wanted his dad to care. That's all he wanted, it's all he cared about and hoped for. Part of me wanted to shake him. So much of me wants to tell him our dad is dead. He disappeared a long time ago. He was gone the moment mom walked out the door, and he was an illusion before then. I know he's not strong enough to hear it though. Every ounce of me wants to scream at my father, call and tell him what a vile horrible human being he is. What kind of father gets a phone call from their child saying that they are suicidal, sitting in the emergency room, waiting to get admitted to a psych unit and afraid, and you stay silent on the other end of the line, say nothing, and never bother to come. My father. But I watched him when I was at my lowest, and I watched the sadistic enjoyment he was getting out of the entire scene. I watched him taunt me to go through my own suicide. I've watched him do similar to my brother multiple times before, my father's reaction is always the same, and my brother keeps running back for more hoping that this time he will be loved. That this time, my dad will love and adore and care about him the same way he did when we were small kids. But he isn't that person, and I'm not sure how low my brother needs to get to see that painful truth and run. I know it brought me to near suicide when I finally came to accept that, but I'm still not positive that even now, my brother has done so. I know he feels alone. I'm there, but somehow, I'm not enough.

I spent last night crying again (the girl that doesn't cry), because I remember my lowest and what that felt like. What its like when someone shows up at your house unexpectedly just as you were ready to slip out the door. I had spent months envisioning myself in front of a train, ensuring I didn't wake up on the other side of an attempt. And now I finally had found the energy to get up off the couch. Ask why said person came over? She came over regularly and noticed I was up and moving earlier that day--hubby works nights, kids go to bed, she felt like something was off...So she decides to show up and spend the night. Yup, a million levels of pissed. Getting off the couch tips someone off that you are about to commit suicide. Who knew. But this isn't supposed to be about me. I cried because I remembered the pain. I cried because I remember the thought of relief that suicide brought. I cried because I remembered what it felt to run completely out of hope. I cried, and cried, and cried because no one should ever have to feel that way, and I would do anything to protect him from it. I cried because if I lose him I lose a huge chunk of myself. I cried because this is the first time he has admitted himself instead of making an attempt first, and I'm terrified that one day he is gonna succeed.

 

[Leighlee87]

I need to start organizing my thoughts for my next therapy session. I definitely want to prep for emdr. But also, some other stuff that needs to be sorted through. I'm not sure what will happen this week, considering all that I'm working through.

1. Brother--feelings elicited, anger towards Dad--he hurt him again and enjoyed it, wanting to tell him that Dad is dead.

2. What did I do with that? I actually allowed myself to sit with it for a little bit. I was only able to do it for a couple minutes or so, but I sat with it. Which is the first time I can tell her that I've done that.

3. Why am I intentionally hurting myself? Why am I hoping he will show up, and see that I'm hurting? I've spent so long afraid that if he sees me healthy and happy, he will read it as though I didn't care about our relationship and that leaving never hurt. I want so much for him to see that I hurt and for him to know that I love him. For him, words don't convey such things--only actions do, and part of that mindset is cultural. But the point of this is, he doesn't care. He doesn't love. And to see me sick, to see me hurting, is something he enjoys seeing. The same way he enjoyed hurting me.
It's a big revelation, a huge step forward. Part of me originally protested telling her. It's the main crux of what keeps my eating disorder in play. If she has this information, she can work with it. And right now, as everything spirals, and I'm scared to address it and face it head on.

4. Anorexia
Help or No help--I've come to the conclusion, I'm going to be honest. That I'm losing control. That I'm afraid. That I want her to make it stop. But there is part of me that wants her to leave me alone....not yet.....I just want to be skinny first. Please let me get skinny first and then we will start. I'm so close to thin. And that's what it is entirely about. It's not that I don't want recovery, it's not that I don't want her to save me, I'm utterly scared of myself and terrified by this loss of control. But I just want to be skinny. Just once. That's all I want. And I know what she will say because we have gone down that mental thought process before. I want all the help in the world, but let me get skinny. I'll never see skinny, and I don't even have an "official" number I want to reach, just an image in my head that I wont see in the mirror even if it is staring me back. But I need it. And if I can't get past this mental minefield, I'm dead. When do I give up? When do I get tired? At what point does it begin to destroy my life, my career? It is already scaring my children. Why can't I pull myself together? Why can't I hate myself a little less?

5. EMDR
I have no autonomy/ I'm not free:
I am free:

God, this has all come down even further than last time. Can I even score this?
I have autonomy/ freedom--I'm terrified of it. I don't know how to handle the world if I don't know my place and don't have anyone bossing me around within it. I don't know what to do without those rigid parameters.

The only freedoms I don't have are trappings in my own mind. They are my own fears--things I'm afraid of that hold me back. Fear of getting hurt, of being vulnerable--I'm so scared, I don't even live--not really.

There is still a tiny voice still inside that says, yeah, but what if someone comes along and takes your freedom away (and with it any chance for escape)? It's happened before. But I suppose that's probably my own fear and my own past crippling me now. It's saying, you can recognize abuse but it doesn't save you from your father's physical abuse if he shows up, or if he pays someone off. It doesn't save you if some crazy person shoves you in the trunk of their car and then holds you hostage in their basement. It doesn't save you from being kidnapped and forced into the sex trade. People can and will strip your freedom. Is that my own trappings, or are those realistic founded fears? I guess they are realistic fears, but not to the point where they destroy every aspect of your life.

 

[Leighlee87]

It's amazing how back and forth my mind is right now. Spiraling into my eating disorder, wanting to go further, finding myself terrified, crying for help, and contemplating recovery. I never thought the two would coincide at once.

Maybe it's because I've spiraled enough times before, I've been doing this so long, I'm exhausted.

I was open and honest with my T about everything with food--the feeling of spiraling, the familiarity of it all, all the conflicting feelings, my weight, etc. It's something, especially considering the fact that I contemplated lying to her about all of it, or offering the fewest details as possible. I was so scared to start that conversation it took me a couple minutes to work up the nerve. But I spilled everything out. In a way, I feel like I'm crying out for help, I want someone to make it end, but I know I'll fight against anyone who tries.

I know I'm not ready to recover. Not just yet. But for the first time ever, I'm honestly contemplating recovery. I want answers. I want to know what it entails. What I should expect. Honestly, I want to know it all, I don't want surprises. I want to know how long it hurts, how long before the horrible thoughts/anxieties/and needs to act on ocd behaviors finally end. I want to know how mucheap weight I'm expected to gain.

More than anything, I want to know how. How am I supposed to do this? Cause so many times in the past, it hasn't been because I don't want to, but literally because I cant. I only get a couple days and then completely emotionally fall apart. The anxiety, the mental struggle, the emotions, it literally hurts. Its not something I can just do, so how do I do this from home? How do I visit her office once a week and manage these behaviors on my own?

 

[No12talk2]

I love the idea of a trauma diary. I write all of the time, so having somewhere to put it all seems...

I'm new to this site and this is the first time that I am posting. Your post actually helped me because I have PTSD and DID but I don't have anyone around that I can talk to about it because it is so complex. My therapist I see on a regular basis is an hour away. I really like her, but she will be the first to admit that, before I came to her practice 5 years ago, she had zero experience with DID. When I first started with her it didn't matter because even though I had been diagnosed w DID 15 years prior, I didn't realize the real definition and complexity of DID. I thought the psychiatrist that diagnosed me just meant I was dissociating, which I was already aware of.

When the "I" was added to Dissociative Disorder.... that was a whole new ballgame and I didn't know any of the rules! Anyway, I say all of that just to let you know that there are people who understand how you feel and I am very grateful you shared your story :-)

 

[No12talk2]

@jandal
I'm not sure if I'm more or less comfortable with the fact that even our...

I had to go back and read your whole thread just because it's amazing to me to find ppl who are going through the same thing I was going through 4 years ago. I was blessed to find an inpatient trauma unit that had an INTENSIVE program to deal with all kinds of trauma. It is 14 hours away from me, but I was going to get there, hell or high water! It was there that I discovered what DID was. Learning about it and realizing I definitely did have it, allowed me to start trying to put the pieces of my puzzle... called LIFE, back together again. I wish I could tell you it was a great experience that was quick and painless, but that would be a big fat lie.

I had horrific body memories and there were times I really thought I was going to die if I opened the floodgates to everything I had endured.... but I didn't die! I thought I knew everything that had happened. I knew I was raped by my stepdad on a daily ( or nightly) basis from the age of 10 to 14. I knew I was physically abused by a different stepdad from age 6 to 10. (There was always just a few months between my mom's live-in boyfriends/ stepdads!)

When I discovered I had other parts inside, I learned unimaginable things that had happened to me from the age of almost 4 years old until I was 16. I was afraid I was crazy and making things up. I had been told that my whole life so I thought it had finally come true. Since then, all my memories except one, have been confirmed by siblings, school mates and my childhood teachers, so I guess I'm not crazy after all! I can relate to EVERYTHING you have said, but rest assured, it does get better. I am also a teacher so learning about something in a way that helps me put the pieces together and understand, is immensely helpful to me. I'm not sure how all this works as far as forums or talking directly to someone on here, but I would be glad to help in any way I can. I will keep both you and Jandal in my prayers.

 

[Leighlee87]

Today is a much better day than I've had in awhile. Anxiety is still up, but I'll figure it out. I think I really do need to talk to my psychiatrist about it. I've kept telling her things are great, but I've probably been a whole lot in denial. It's not. I hide a lot, and don't interact with my family the way I would like. But today doesn't feel half bad. My brother is home from the hospital so I don't worry so much. My mom is staying with him to make sure he remains stable. I'm not sure how long she will be there, but that's her baby, so she won't go anywhere if she even slightly doubts he isn't okay. I'm sure him being home is part of why I feel the way I do today.

I need to find motivation to be productive. Lesson planning, cleaning house, finding the car keys that I lost (seriously, seriously lost), etc. I'll start with a shower and ignore the fact that it is already noon. lol.

I'm at a point where I'm going to look for a new job, still part time, but within a different school system so that I can receive benefits. I'm also going to go back to school. Juggling the two is going to be a challenge, but it is also something that I know I'm capable of doing. Financially, it's going to feel like death, but it's worth the temporary strain. So, there are two more things to add to my list: resume and college application (since it is rolling admissions and for a certification I don't have to worry so much about a deadline). My school wants an intent to return notice next month, but I don't have a job lined up for next school year. I hate how schools do this. Intent to returns are sent out before job postings are made available for the following school year. Well, I'm not going to tell you I'm leaving if I don't already have another job in place. Common sense only makes common sense, right? Uhg.


Anyways, prep for next week's therapy.

#1 EMDR, we didn't get to it last week. So this week will be it. I still need to discuss with her where I am with self statements. The image of my father and the statement of I'm not free still ranks at a distress level of 5. I'm not sure how it would ever not, even though she ensures me it can and will decrease. I should trust this woman's word by this point. Somehow....I still sometimes think she's crazy--like, now--on this point. The concept of I am free, leads me to the understanding that I'm only trapped because of my own fears and not because someone is holding me there. I am in all actuality free. Put my father in front of me, and I will totally second guess that statement. My fears are that something will happen to take my freedom away. There are horrible circumstances where that does happen to people, the chances are slim, my fear is out of proportion, and the problem with it is that it prevents me from being able to have any quality of life whatsoever. I have no idea or ability to turn that switch off. Actually, the thought of turning that switch off, of making myself vulnerable is terrifying.

#2 Remembering Dad suffocating me as he spanked me, I brought it up with mom. She was like, "Oh yeah, I've seen him do that before a few times....at least once for sure, and I yelled at him." What the hell mom, what the hell. And for those of you who don't believe in repressed memories, yeah okay. Forgot about it entirely even though I had been nightmares following the same theme for years, the memory came up in a flashback after I got home, then remembering that this wasn't just a one time thing but a normal occurrence (how does someone forget this stuff?), and finally I bring it up with my mother who confirms it happened and that she had witnessed it a couple times. It was more than once or twice, it was over and over and over again, probably because he didn't want her or anyone else to hear.

I'm not sure at all if we will cover anything else, typically not. So, I don't think I will prep for anything more.

And not for therapy:

For whatever reason, at some point, I want a detailed timeline of everything that happened. I don't want those gaps in my memory to reappear. I don't want to forget why I left. I don't want love to cloud better judgement. Maybe, in some sick way, I want to leave a warning for my children when they reach adulthood to stay away. I want it as a record. Period. Not yet, but soon. When I have the time to sit down and seriously write. Maybe one day, I will be able to write out all of the good things that I miss, but for now, that is far too painful. For now, I do want to type out some of the things said, some of the things that hurt, and some without context probably make no sense--but this is something I need for me.

"It's time you come home, your vacation is over."
"I'm the only one who is going to ever move mountains for you."
"How do you think it makes me feel when you say that you miss other people? What about me?"
"Your whole let us (my adult siblings and I) make decisions and learn for ourselves thing you've got going on, Leigha...I"m doing this because I know what's best for you."
"You would choose your cousins over me?"
"I'm sorry you can't go party and drink every night anymore Leigha"---said to the girl who hasn't had a glass of wine in over 2 years.
"I'm sorry this town isn't posh enough for you. You are being selfish and narrow minded. The only reason you don't like it is because your mother brainwashed you."--I now live in crack hell, I don't feel safe raising my children here.
"Don't bother reporting it, it's not worth the emotional damage of going to court."
"Don't try to figure out why someone sexually abuses children. I know you, you will try to figure out why they do it and then take on sympathy for them." What the actual f***? I literally was and will always be at a loss for words.
"I knew you were hurt. It seems to make more sense not to focus on it and overlook it instead."
"Give me your anti-depressents. I don't like you on them. Where are they?"--he was literally going to remove them from my house and dispose of them.
"You're probably just like your mother's side of the family. The women can't handle emotional pressure and they crack underneath it. You're going crazy just like they did."
"There is something you're not telling me" --insinuating that hubby is hitting me.
"Who else is there, Leigha? No one gets this upset over moving." --insinuating that I'm cheating
"Go ahead and file divorce papers. You want to do so before he does. That doesn't mean you have to go through with it, but you have to protect yourself."
"I guess, what I'm saying is, I don't want guests over at the house right now."--no, what you are saying is, all of my siblings will be at the house, and I'm not invited because you want to talk negatively about me and spread untrue statements.

I hate him. I hate him. I hate him.

 

[Leighlee87]

Raising kids. Raising a child who isn't like his peers, and no one can tell you why.....is hard. It's challenging to navigate, it's confusing, at times it's heartbreaking, and often times endearing. Where it's infuriating? With teachers who want answers and lables, who want medications, and ways of making him just like everyone else. He can't focus or stay on task--way beyond that of adhd. He needs one on one to get work done. That doesn't work for them. So they get angry with me, it's my fault, why don't we have answers for his problems? Why don't we have solutions?

I have a meeting with his teacher again because she "is concerned". She wants to know about his evaluation. The appointment is scheduled but it's a specialist so the appointment is several weeks out. We both agreed that holding him back doesn't make sense because he knows the information, but he might not make it in next grade because of the work load. But honestly, it's like beating a dead horse.

I feel like I end up trying to defend myself, my parenting decisions. I feel judged. Last year my family jumped in to take care of the kids because I no longer could. I had just developed ptsd and it was debilitating. Anorexia had taken hold and I was ill to the point of being threatened with hospitalization. I did not eat. I did not sleep. I did not move. I did not function for a full year. It impacted my kids too, and I was called out for it. Instead of asking if there was something wrong, I was immediately accused of just being a shitty parent. Idk, maybe that's fair, maybe I was. It isn't like you can tell them about all of these mental health issues. But at least a generic, "I've been very ill, and my extended family has had to jump in to take up the slack. Some things have slipped through the cracks as a result" would have sufficed.

This year I have life a million times better under control. But that reputation proceeds me. I'm the mother that never cared. Instead of the mother going navigating through an intense trauma doing everything feasibly possible to put her life together so she can be there for her family, but at the same time has a special needs child who doesn't neatly fit into the school system's way of doing things. My best was never enough. And there is a background story thay no one understands.

I've started contemplating homeschooling him. At least for next year while we figure things out. I'm not sure what else to do. I'm going to be working part time as it is. However, the more I really evaluate recovery, the more I wonder if it's doable. Can I do this on an outpatient basis? Or will I need a higher level of care? If I need more care, then homeschooling might not make sense. I don't know. I have no idea what to think of anything right now.

 

[Leighlee87]

Okay, soooo....more days than not I feel normal? I don't know. I don't even know what to make of that. But I like the fact that I feel somewhat like myself. I need to catch up on all that has been left behind in the last few years. Maybe I will begin with getting my house back in order.

Today I did the intake for my son today at a therapist's office. I'm curious to see what comes of it. Part of his issue may well be anxiety. He is possibly the most anxiety ridden child of any kid I know, and kinda shuts down and runs off to his own little world in his head when he gets to that point. The problem is, that at least for me, there usually doesn't seem to be an identifiable trigger. It's all where that little ADHD mind of his goes--and he immediately catastrophizes everything. I might get this problem wrong--turns into I'm gonna fail 2nd grade. I'm gonna scrape my knee literally turns into I'm going to get hurt and die. Everything turns into the very worst, and he doesn't have the verbal skills to express any of his worries. There is more going on, I'm sure, because developmental problems have been noted from about age 2. But ADHD and anxiety may play the large part.

 

[Leighlee87]

Therapy today. I feel like I keep prepping, and then things don't go according to plan. Most of my prep will honestly involve going back and reading over the last few posts and carrying the big items into therapy with me today. I still get nervous about therapy. I don't know why, I feel like I shouldn't at this point, but I still do. I've never been in therapy until all of this occurred, and it's such an odd experience/ relationship. I think it is a challenging dynamic for anyone regardless of upbringing or mental state, but for those with trauma backgrounds and lifelong abuse it's probably more challenging and emotionally laden. I know it feels that way for me.

It's a relationship where you tell everything that you hold inside, and the other person asks questions and digs and prods in the places that hurt the most, requiring you to open up further and bare more of yourself to that other person. It's impossible to feel strong, eventually you are forced to feel, and you can't hide that hurt when the other person is asking painful questions about painful topics. It leaves you feeling bare and vulnerable. And for me, that feels terrifying.

PTSD, by itself, makes it really difficult to modulate your own emotions. It feels like the emotions come out of nowhere and are so incredibly overwhelming, you don't know how to breathe. A lifetime of abuse, equates to entering adulthood without the full arsenal of coping skills acquired by healthy individuals. Essentially, in order to get through the therapy process, you have to depend on that person to be there to teach, model, remind you, and walk you through coping skills as this emotional overload takes place. Fear is when you can't breathe, can't find your way "back into the room", panic attacks, tears, flashbacks, dissociative episodes, not knowing what is happening to you because you feel so out of control of yourself and you don't know how to get into the driver's seat again. All you know is that the feelings are terrifying and you can't make it stop, and you desperately want it to stop. It forces you to be dependent upon someone else.

The ultimate struggle in it all is so closely linked to my childhood, and I watch how I act out based on my past, even though I don't want to do so. My father got joy out of causing others fear and pain. The easiest way to protect yourself from further harm, was to put on a tough exterior. He would pounce on the person already emotionally hurting and enjoy the mindgames. If he randomly made you the target, the easiest way out was to pretend it didn't get to you, so he would move on to the next person. He was less likely to physically hurt the person who didn't look scared to him.
I fight so hard against my therapist to keep up that tough exterior, to not let it down. I close up when things get emotionally hard because I don't want her to see me scared. But the curtain has come down enough times, she knows I'm scared even when I try to hide it from her. I feel seen through. I feel threatened/frightened/scared because I am vulnerable. I feel like prey, I'm at the mercy of someone else.

Finding myself downing is even worse than showing fear. Time and time again, she has been right there to help me when I get in over my head. She's pulled me out of the flashbacks, dissociations, stopped the panic attacks from spiraling further. But every time I need her, I'm so scared she'll just sit back, watch me struggle, and insist I can do it on my own. Instead of seeing her, I see my dad. I've watched this process over and over again. Each time we delve into really hard work, I find myself feeling scared of her and trying to push away. I get angry because I don't want to depend on her, I don't want to be vulnerable, I don't want to need her. I'm so incredibly scared that she will let me go to these dark places, and leave me lost instead of pulling me out when I find myself trapped in it. And simultaneously, I feel clingy and needy. It's this back and forth tug-o-war in my head.

Most recently, I've begun actively reaching for her instead of fighting her when it all gets to be too much. EMDR has been good on a multitude of levels. Early on, I struggled so much with the fact that I had to depend on her to that extent--I needed the encouragement, the comfort, the immediate grounding when I felt overwhelmed. She saw me terrified on every level--terrified of the process, of her, of the images that were coming up. The more I struggled, the more support she provided.

It's an odd change. Most of the time, I still fight against her. But there are moments, where I find myself wanting her there instead of feeling scared cause I need her there. Before, a flashback would mean that I would follow her voice until I could ground myself and then I would retreat far away from her and shutdown. It scared me. She scared me. Now, flashbacks are still terrifying, but I want her there, I want to know that on the other side of that terror there is comfort. I want that fear to be acknowledged and understood. And I'm ready to jump in again.

I know things are turning at a pivotal point. a lot of work can be done if I can learn to trust. It also speaks volumes about the relationships I have with others. I imagine/ know, that most of my relationships have that same fear component of being hurt-shutting myself off- pushing away-being needy--that I display in therapy. So maybe these changes that I'm slowly making in therapy, can eventually be applied to the real world too.

 

[Leighlee87]

It's been ages since I've updated here. My therapist changed the format of all our discussions so that I'm in charge and leading all of the discussions. I'm not comfortable with it and not confident that I'm doing a good job. I come in unsure of what it is I'm actually supposed to be talking about. She seemed to have an agenda, an outside perspective of the flawed thought patterns and unhealthy behaviors that could be challenged by doing xyz. I feel like the blind leading the blind so to speak. So, yeah I'm frustrated.

Last session I managed to do well. I brought some major stuff to the table, things I'd never opened up and discussed before. In the end, she asked me to visit my husband's counselor with him to discuss some of his behaviors that are causing serious problems. Essentially, she feels I'm being raped by him. I don't think it's intentional, but he seems to think that being married means he has access to me whenever he wants. When I say no, he ignore my requests and continues. He knows that if he keeps groping me, that I will eventually cave in and have sex, but I only honestly do it so that he will stop touching me. It's dysfunctional to say the least. My therapist wanted his therapist to be made aware of what is going on, especially since I am getting a lot of pressure to be more physically intimate and that I'm not doing enough to meet his need for touch. In reality he has become a huge trigger, and I keep retraumatizing myself when things happen.

Meeting with his therapist went poorly. She shut down the conversation pretty quickly, made excuses for his behavior, and basically said that it would be better dealt with by taking my husband to meet with my therapist. She seemed to think that the problem resided in me. It messed with my head a bit.

So today I met with my therapist again. The session didn't go as smoothly as planned. I intended on discussing things that occurred in session with hubby, and all of the feelings and worries it brought on. I thought it would be enough to cover the hour. Instead, I managed to tell her what happened in the session and shut down. I didn't have it in me to talk about the rest. Which left with a lot of time left. There was stuff there to discuss, but nothing deep.

I discussed how much I hate my eating disorder. How much I hate myself because I can't figure out how to let go. And how my dad ties into my eating disorder.

She talked about parts for the first time in a couple months. Last time, I started to get upset so it never came back up again. She directly addressed me in the plural, which I did my best to ignore. On a more normal conversation of parts she mentioned that its interesting because I have parts that take on the role of my father and then there are other parts of me that act defiantly against him. I literally war internally. That same unhealthy child attachment is being played out on my own. It explains the fight with anorexia too. My homework assignment was to love all of my parts--a tall order.