A History, Just My Way Of Connecting
I have to laugh at myself. It's the only way to keep sane.
I'm posting a little history just to introduce myself. My history inevitably became intertwined with that of my boyfriend when I met him, so I'm sorry if that seems a little off topic because for me, it's on my path.
My mother was neglectful and left me at the hands of my father. In fact, I have no memories of her until I'm about four. She was remote, distant, always busy and definitely *not* interested in her children. She was sort of taken by my brother, but she didn't really like me. She wasn't around, and I will never know how much she knows of what my father did to me. I'll just say that when I came out and told her, she wasn't surprised, and admitted that he had been sexually abusing her as well. She in fact, asked me very specific questions about the things he did which coincided with her own story. Creepy.
My first memory is of my father sexually abusing me. There is no before. I cannot look at him without that knowledge. We had dinner the other night, and although I've confronted him about the abuse (which he denies), there is this power thing always going on. He sexually abused me while I was very young fairly frequently. It lessened as the years went on but continued. His psychological abuse got worse as I aged and I sometimes wonder which was worse. He made me believe I was always on the brink of death. I suffered from immense anxiety and depression growing up and was somewhat of a problem child at school. I was the kind of child who could not stay in my seat, talked to everyone, did my work in two seconds, and was generally a disturbance. People thought this was cute, eccentric behavior—not the signs of a child who needed help.
I went 3000 miles away from home for college to get away from them. The first three years went well. I did well. My senior year of college, something changed. I became very depressed. Suicidal. Did S.I. behaviors. And I landed myself in the local hospital twice. And was tested and tested and put on meds. Psychotic Depression was my first diagnosis. I'm not surprised.
When I graduated, I hadn't come to terms with what had happened in my childhood and returned to my parents home to be abused again. I attended an outpatient CBT program which gave me a lot of coping tools. After a year of that, I went off to graduate school.
A three year program took me six and a half years to complete. But I did it. I did a DBT and partial hospitalization program and was in and out of the hospital at least every six months. I've been on a lot of different meds. One time, I was on 14 psych meds at once!! They doubled me up on everything, told me I was Bipolar, Borderline, had anxiety disorders, eating disorders, Dissociative Personality Disorder. I was assaulted and raped for 2.5 days while in graduate school. It was by someone, sadly to say, who had obviously done this before. I, despite the fact that I knew better, sat in a shower for two days before going off to the hospital. Then I was hospitalized for depression and received between 18 and 23 ECT treatments (my doc at the time never got straight with me about the number). I stopped talking to my father and didn't speak to him again for seven years.
I kept doing things to re-enact my trauma. I'd pick the worst guy out in a place and end up with him. I felt like it was the only way I could feel. I felt that, in some perverted way, it was the only way to regain control of this runaway train. I drank too much, ate too little, and was generally of a foul disposition.
After graduate school, I returned to my home town. I wasn't functioning at all. I couldn't work. I could barely get out of bed. So my mom helped me apply for disability. Then she, now divorced, became my payee. Took my money. Didn't let me get the fair amount. Didn't let me see a dime. Put me up in an apt. I had control over nothing. She had gotten me a puppy to be trained as a service dog—she saw no future for me. I was again in and out of the hospital—though this time my doc believed I was highly overmedicated and that he had no idea if the medication or the underlying problem or what was causing my symptoms.
I was dissociating, depressed, and anxious. I was going through flashbacks and had just had my house broken into when I met my boyfriend. He got me out of the situation with my mother. He got me my money and my freedom and kept assuring me I was worth a lot more than these people thought I was. He has been great for me. He has done well. Unfortunately for him, what happened in the world a few months ago triggered an onslaught of flashbacks of his work in the Gulf of Mexico. It triggered all the traumas he's been through, from childhood on up. I've seen him and guided him through dissociative episodes—it hasn't been pretty. But he's been there for me and I'll be there for him. He's trying a new medication, and I think I got some therapy for him—so we'll see.
I'm doing much better thanks to a therapist who is specially trained in trauma (VERY important with PTSD). She does several techniques besides EMDR like AIT and Brainspotting and EFT and others. I've made more progress in the past six months than in the past ten years of blah blah blah. So I'm trying to get my boyfriend to do the EMDR. I think it's great. It's been a life saver. He's been told over and over again to forget the past and live in the present when he needs to get through the past in order to get to the present.
I'm doing okay now and want to continue going in this direction. I like what someone said about how long is the long--how long is a piece of string? I will not bail out on my boyfriend as he has never bailed out on me. I see my role as taking care of my needs, setting up *boundaries* (something I was never very good at) and dealing with my own stuff before going on to him. But supporting him as he improves all the same. He just started a new medicine and it seems to be working. Finally. If he can get the medicine at the dosage he needs it (the insurance is dicey about that) things will be much better.
I hope to spend more of my time here in the carers group. I do not feel that I have the anger or frustration or depression that I used to have with the traumas I experienced. I just want to get on with things.
Just a note. Thanks for Listening :)
