Putting The Pieces Together

[WillowMarie]

That first night, I laid there next to my mum in her bed, tears falling down my cheeks. Just thinking of my mum seeing my dad just collapsing and waiting for help to come it keeps haunting me. It was all I could think about those first 48 hours, what kept repeating in my head.

As days go by, I realize I hardly miss him. He was barely part of my life until sophomore year of high school. I don't really know what changed. Maybe I just started talking to him again one day. But something melted inside of him.

I remember how surprised I was one time after senoir year when I went to a work meeting at a different store. Never good with directions, I got lost on the way home. I started crying on the phone asking my dad for directions. All I wanted to do was pull up on the side of the road and curl up and sleep as it neared 11;30 that night.

Somehow, I eventually made it home after hours of driving. I opened the door to the front door and my dad stood at the top of the stairs. He looked concerned and took me in his arms, telling me he had been worried. It was so different from when I was growing up, I was in shock.

And that's when it comes back to haunt me. How I'd accomplish something in school and was excitted to tell him. I walked over to where he was watching t.v. on the couch and told him how my team had won the event for the book club. Who knows if he even heard me or if he just didn't care enough to respond. His eyes glued to the tv in front of him. He didn't even flinch. He didn't care.

Not until I joined feild hockey my freshman year. Then he was interested. But what did it matter then? I already grew up knowing he was more interested in my brothers who played sports more than me. Or maybe it was just because they were guys? I did hate my brothers for that. I swore to myself it was because they were guys.

But there were other times you were cold to me. When I needed someone badly. I don't care that I have a messy room, or the fact that it was my fault. Don't you think I'd know that? And I was just a child. I had stepped on a sharp toy and in tears, I walked down stairs to find you on the couch playing your video games. I told you my foot hurt because I stepped on one of my toys. And you just looked at me and yelled it was my fault, that I should clean my damn room.

The worst thing was knowing that no one came to my rescue. My mom never came running to hold me after my dad yelled at me. I just had to deal with it. Me on the other hand, remember going into my brothers room after something happened. He was curled up in his blankets, maybe crying. Throwing my arms around him, I comforted him. I guess in a sense I was the strongest in my family. I held myself together long enough to stand up for my brothers or mom and fell apart later.

Nobody else dared talk back to him. Just me. Not my mom. Not my brothers. I yelled back at him even though my body betrayed me and I started trembling and my eyes started to sting, a reaction that still occurs today, but to a lesser degree over time.

I argued back that he was wrong, I screamed that I hated him, I even threw my breakfest and plate at him from across the table one morning. Then he'd chase me. I may never know if anything would happen if he caught me. If anything did I blocked it out.

All I remember is running down the hall to my room slamming the door shut and locking it. And because of my messy room, sometimes stuff would get stuck in between the door and the hinges would break because I couldn't get the door to close.

There were two times I remember my dad getting violent. Both were with my youngest brother who I am so protective over. Both were on vacation. One was on vacation and he kicked my brother's leg from under the kitchen table during diner for some trivial reason.

The second we were in a one room hotel room and my younger brother let loose a swear word. My dad's hand came flying out and smacked him against the cheek. I jumped up and yelled, don't you ever touch him like that again!

My mom stayed silent as usual and one of my older brothers looked at me shaking his head from side to side. WhaT? What did I do wrong?! I didn't care if he turned his rage on me next! Could you imagine how my brother would feel if no one stuck up for him? How alone he would feel? He would feel like me...

Most of the time anything little would set him off. He'd yell at us when we were too loud. He would yell at us when our friends were over. He yelled at me when I tried to give one of my friends a piece of our pizza from diner when he had told me no. Grabbing my wrist that held the pizza, I don't remember if he got the pizza back. But it went around the neighborhood kids that my dad almost broke my wrist. I don't even know how accurate that statement was.

And this other time, he acted fierocious. Coming to pick me up from a sleep over, I still lay in bed. I sure he didn't tell me when he was coming to pick me up. The only thing I remember was me getting my things together and hearing his fist pounding on the door over and over, yelling at me because he had to wait. I remember being scared and instead of sitting in the passenger seat in the car, I sat in the middle seat. And I know he screamed at me on the way home.

Maybe one of the reasons I have become the way I am because I don't want to be him. Maybe my disassociation is a way to block out emotions when I feel uncomfortable. Maybe my self-injury was a way to dim my insides when I started banging my head against walls in 4-5th grade.

Maybe it was a way to punish me or maybe I deserved it back then? Maybe I thought I deserved it when I mowed the lawn, hate radiating through me because I had no choice. I'd walk under our plum tree getting to the grass underneath letting the tree branches scrap away at my arms, leaving a few long scratch marks. I was just so overwhelmed with hate and anger, it just felt so good at the time.

A way I later justified my cutting when I was in high school went back to my dad. All throughout school, we are taught smoking is bad; and that includes secondhand, too. I grew up believing my dad was going to eventually kill me from smoking in the house all the time.

Secretly, I wish he would just die. When I looked at my habit, cutting, it was my addiction, just like he had one. But mine couldn't kill others, it would just hurt me. I didn't care what others said, I knew it was better than my dad's smoking.

My mom had opened the door carrying her bags, my oldest brother close behind. I got up off the floor, and was a little confused as my mum headed up the stairs towards me.

"Your father had an accident on the beach and he didn't make it."

All I could say was holy shit and squeeze my mum. As the days pass by, I barely think about him. It's almost as if he wasn't even there to begin with. He was so detached from me for most of my life that without him in the way, it was better.

I could sit on the couch upstairs whenever I wanted and eat my food in front of the t.v. And best of all, no more smoking in the house. No more fear of dying from lung cancer or my asthma getting worse from the smoke.

Before we received the autopsy, I secretly wished you had developed lung cancer and that was the case of death, not a heart attack. The heart attack that was still from your smoking that had clogged your arteries with flith.

But sometimes I do miss you, dad. Or maybe just the fact that my "dad" is gone. I have no regrets. We had a better relationship the past few years of my life.

And you said you loved me the day before you died when mum called to say the vacation was going good. And so I'm thankful for that.That our last conversation, you said you loved me. And I replied I love you, too, dad.

 

[WillyKat]

That's a really intense story. Thanks for sharing it with it. I hope it helps to speak those words, and I think it reached him in spirit.

Our parents are just people like us, but older. They are almost always just as flawed as they were in high school or even earlier. There is no magic transition where you leave your faults behind. Having kids changes everything. It magnifies whatever faults you have. Do you know how his upbringing was, what made him like he was?

Reading this makes me miss my dad too. Our relationship wasn't at all like yours, but he was distant in his own way and he died way too young and when I was 18. I never got a chance to tell him goodbye or tell him that I loved him.

So it's such a positive thing that you said those things. Makes a huge difference.

 

[WillowMarie]

Do you know how his upbringing was, what made him like he was?

No, he never mentioned anything. If he ever told mum anything, she never mentioned anything to me.

I'm sorry you lost your dad, too. Especially at a young age.

 

[WillowMarie]

I finally had a memory surface again, after what seems like forever. It was not very clear. I just know certain things. Like I could hear my dad talking about me, about something I said or did, and he didn't know why I did it. He was upset and complaining about it. He was in the hallway. I think I was in my room.

I was sitting on my bed, it was evening. I think my door was closed.

I believe I was angry, frustrated. Maybe hurt.

My mood before this came back, was starting to be more irritated easily and angry, felt more like snapping at people. The week or two prior to this. Now after the memory, maybe coincidence, maybe not. I have been so on edge. Especially with my mum. I just want to yell at her.

All of a sudden, if I am talking to her or she is trying to talk to me, in the middle of a conversation, I just want to get away and yell at her to leave me alone. Tonight we went to dinner, and there were two times I snapped at her. One was when she said my brothers didn't think the car I bought back in 2004 would hold up. I said, who said that? when? why didn't anyone tell me? I don't remember anyone saying this when I bought the car.

I felt criticized, betrayed, hurt. I wanted to yell, why didn't anyone talk to me about this, why is everyone talking behind my back.

I feel so unhinged and I am not finding an outlet to get my emotions out. I have such trouble with this. It just bottles up until I start getting bad urges to self-injure. It usually takes a lot longer to build up, but it is strong now. To where even a little thing sets it off. I feel guilt over little things that I am upset I didn't speak up about or that I think I should have done differently.

I need to find a way to channel this energy so I don't crack and give in.

 

[WillowMarie]

I have had a few memories pop up in the last few weeks. One I have been avoiding. I remebered it while I was laying in bed for the night and it drifted across my mind. When I was aware of it, I knew instantly that I remembered it within the past few weeks, but must have pushed it away and didn't acknowledge it.

It was when I was in high school. I was dating this guy off and on for a year. We were taking a break, but had a pact that we wouldn't do anything with anyone else during that break. We had made a "contract" that we signed to hold us to this. It included that we wouldn't kiss, f*ck, or things of that nature with other people. My mum had found it in my room and told me, "I found this in your room." She was trying to scolding me when she said that. I don't remember what I felt during that time. But if I had to pick some feelings, I would feel dirty, ashamed, and embarrassed.

It's not like I would have done half of those things on the list even if I was dating. The guy knew I didn't want to do anything and I, then, had wanted to wait until marriage because that is what I was taught was right.

Right now I feel anxious and a bit dissociated. I feel a bit angry. I hate how she can never talk about things, just state her opinion and want you to be the same way.



It makes me angry, too, thinking about how hard I was working to feel comfortable being physical with my boyfriends. During freshman year, even sitting close next to each other and having his arm around my shoulders made me uncomfortable, but I worked so hard to be more comfortable. I knew I should feel comfortable with it and that it was normal. Even with my regular friends, I never really hugged them and became more comfortable with that as well during high school.

 

[WillowMarie]

The other day I went out to eat with my family. My younger brother ordered a six ounce steak and when he received his food, I could tell he was disappointed with how small it was. I was surprised by how small it was, as well. After a few minutes he said outloud, look at how small the steak was, it was the smallest steak he had ever seen. My older brother said, yea, it was only six ounces, that he should have gotten a larger one. Then my mum (after my older brother and his fiance pretty much said the same thing) saying it more critically than the others, said, yeah, why didn't you order the larger one?!

I felt uncomfortable with the whole thing, starting with seeing my brother looking uncomfortable/disappointed when he got his steak. I could hear my therapist in my head reminding me this isn't my battle, that my brother can stand up for himself, so I kept my mouth shut. I really wanted to yell, well, he can't do anything about it now, leave him alone! I really wanted to tell everyone to shut the f*ck up. When they were done hounding my younger brother, I told him he can have some of my pork wrapped in bacon. He said no, but I said seriously, you can have some, there is quite a bit. He ended up taking some.

Later that night I was laying in my bed. I felt something oddly familiar during dinner that day, but couldn't connect the dots. I asked myself why it felt so familiar and a memory came back. Very fuzzy, but I remember it happened. I was at the County Fair on the bleachers where we watched the drag races. It was a warm day, not too hot. I know my dad was there, and I. I think Jefferey was there as well. It came back confusing, but I know I was eating ice cream in a sugar cone. When I first remembered, it was hazy and at first it was my brother who had his ice cream fall off his cone when he was eating. But then, I was like, wait, no, that was me. I don't know if my brain was trying to protect me, or it was mixing with my feelings I had prior that day. But I know I was eating ice cream and I felt sad/devastated/angry that the ice cream fell. And it was not just on the bench of the bleachers, it fell all the way down.

I barely heard my dad's voice in my head, but I knew the words and the tone. He said coldly, I am not buying another one.

I was sobbing with tears running down my face, just letting myself feel the emotions. Trying not to analyze things and keep my head quiet and just focusing on the feelings. At one point I could hear voices in my head, but even though I knew there was talking, I couldn't hear them (if that makes sense) or make out the words. I had the knowledge it was my dad's voice though.

At first I was unsure of my age (junior high or younger), but I tried to concentrate if anything came up. I was able to pinpoint younger, sometime in grade school.

I needed my dad to be understanding and compassionate. To not make it all a horrible mistake that I shouldn't have made. It was an accident and I needed him to react kindly and comfort me or tell me it was okay, it happens.

I also realized after I had cried it out and felt like I let it out enough, I realized I was more dissociated than I thought. My vision was weird, like I was seeing my surroundings, but it was wavy or not there. It was weird. I felt my body and the bed to help ground myself since looking at things didn't seem to feel more attached to them.

 

[WillowMarie]

No new memories, but I wanted to record some of my triggers this weekend.

Last night I went to an engagement party for my oldest brother and fiance. I was arriving with my mum, who took a nap before hand, so we arrived about a half hour late. I don't really like to come late, it makes me feel a bit anxious. I would rather be early and watch people arrive.

When we arrived, my mum and I went in and were greeted by my brothers, Jeff and Chris, and Chris's fiance. My mum hugged Noel and ended up standing in the middle so I couldn't hug Noel. That made me feel left out and uncared about. One of my brothers friends came over to say hi and give me a hug and that made me feel special he said hi to me first. This friend is always nice and giving me hugs when I see him. I tried to focus on that he cared enough to say hi to me and tried to forget about mum standing between Noel and I so I wasn't able to hug her. Then Jeff's girlfriend came over and went straight to my mum and completly ignored me. I felt so hurt. I feel close to Jefferey and would think she would think I was important to say hi to as well. At this point I could feel the tears threatening to take over and asked where the bathroom was so I could try to let myself feel some of the emotions and calm down.

I reminded myself that the girlfriend probably sees my mum as the important one to impress since she was meeting us for the first time. That it didn't mean or say anything about me. It just brought up all of these feelings that I am always the odd one out, the one people love the less, cared about less.

Later on that night, Brent, my brothers friend came over and asked me a feel times if I was okay. I lied and said i was fine. It wasn't the time or place to say anything and I don't know him that well. But he kept asking me, like five times if i was sure, that I was okay. It made these feelings come up, I was scared, and felt like crying. It is so rare someone actually can see into my soul and really ask me if I am okay because they can tell or maybe just care about me.

We talked for a little bit and he was asking me if I was still at home and if I was talking care of my mum. I said yes and no. He said I should take care of her. That made me angry because this summer was when I realized that I spent my whole life being angry at my dad for being aggressive with emotional/verbal abuse, but realized my mum was way too passive and never stood up for me or protected me and have been feeling mad at her. And with her passiveness and inability to express or talk about things, was in it's own form a type of emotional abuse. It was running through my head how she never fought for me or protected me and that she doesn't deserve my sympathy now. Especially because I realize that I find myself being emotionally supportive and comforting towards her, but she still can't do that for me.


Later on, the band was playing, I went about 7 feet in front of the speaker and just let it pound in my chest and hearing the music boom in my ears. My mind was still racing with thoughts coming up, thinking about Brent and what I would say to him to make him understand, examples of how she acted when I was young. Emotions kept flaring up and at one point, they were swallowing me up, surrounding me and I forgot I was in a room of people with the band playing and almost let the tears stream down my face. But I snapped back to reality enough to realize where I was and hold back. Feeling and letting my eyes water, but not letting it out so the tears would start falling.

When we went back to the hotel, that was when I finally felt better and stopped going in and out of the intense emotions, stopped feeling like I was going to cry.

 

[Deleted member 12723]

Both of my parents were abusers, but it was my mom who turned a blind eye and I suffered for it so I can relate to what you shared.

Your anger probably saved you. You survived it and are now in the sorting out process of the aftermath.

You are better than you think you are and you are not as bad as you think you are, a very good friend told me this so I pass it on to you.

I had to disconnect from my dad and he died last year. I just felt relief when he died because he could not hurt anyone ever again. Then I received a big shock. I was listed on a small insurance policy from him. It made me remember that I once loved him because he was my dad. I had a whole bunch of conflicting feelings so I understand what you have been describing. I wish the best for you.

 

[WillowMarie]

Thanks gizmo for sharing and relating to what I have experienced. Makes me feel less alone and understood.

It made me remember that I once loved him because he was my dad. I had a whole bunch of conflicting feelings so I understand what you have been describing.

I have felt some of this when remembering my father. It is hard for me because I look back and remember myself as this strong girl who fought back. But I do know I felt hurt and unloved and that I wasn't important and that stuff is hard to feel and say outloud. I would much rather keep up the protective shell that I hate my father and be mad at him. I realized one day, I must have transitioned to feeling that I was at fault/feeling very shameful (younger age memories), to being scared of my father/ knowing he didn't love me as much as my brothers (read from diary), to hating my father and forgetting those other emotions/thoughts until now. I think it was a way for me to protect myself.

And I agree with what you mentioned about my anger saving me. I think it did, too. Gave me strength.

 

[WillowMarie]

This week, when falling asleep, I remembered something that happened over the summer when I went to the residential treatment. It has popped into my head at least twice this week and I started to cry, so I figured I should journal about it.

Something came up, maybe a memory or just a thought/feelings I was struggling with. I was having a very hard time. I asked a staff member if I could talk to her. She said to give her fifteen minutes. I went to my room to pass the time. It was very hard for me to ask for help, but I made myself that time. I was trying so hard to listen to everyone and reach out when I needed it instead of relying soley on myself.

Fifteen minutes passed. I started freaking out and my head kept saying she doesn't care about you, she isn't going to come, etc. I felt abandoned and alone and was crying hysterically. I laid there in my bed crying while more minutes past. Five minutes more, ten minutes. She never came.

Then it was time for the next group. As soon as I was about to leave, another staff member (temporary one), came into my room and asked if everything was okay. I might have actually talked to her, but I had to get to the group on time. If I didn't I wouldn't be allowed in and fill out missed group questions, plus my insurance would be informed that I missed group and it could mean they stopped covering treatment costs.

I also have a thing with getting in trouble, so there was no way I was going to say, okay let me talk to you for a few and get in trouble because I was late for group.

 

[WillowMarie]

About a month and a half ago, I took a break from therapy. I felt myself closing down. I really like her, but my brain started saying, don't trust her, she is going to think you are crazy if you open up, she is going to say you are too emotional. Remember your last therapist? Remember the program you went to as a last resort because you knew they would understand you? But they didn't. I laid it all out on the line. Tried my best to let myself feel and cry. Finally started to hear what my head said to me, paid attention and listened. I said it out loud, I let myself express it even if it wasn't rational. Knowing I probably sounded crazy.

But they viewed me as I was crazy. They viewed my emotions as not normal and too intense. I tried explaining that I might have emotional flashbacks. There was always reasons/same situations that would bring these intense emotions around. I felt alienated and alone, so I made myself take control again. I made myself shut down and push away distract when I got triggered, so I wouldn't feel so intensely. I didn't want medication. Not after I was on it and it numbed me. I was finally feeling and getting to the point where I was okay with it and welcomed it, I found it natural.

But they kept convincing me it wasn't how I was supposed to be. It wasn't normal. So I shut down to show them and me I can control it.

Now I am having such trouble getting back to that emotional okay place. Even though I know my therapist now gets it, I feel such a strong urge to push her away. I think it is worse because I was actually trusting her, as before I was just trusting myself. It is hard for me to trust myself right now because I laid it all on the line before and everybody teamed up against me.

Actually, I have been getting back there, because my triggers seem to feel stronger, like knock the wind out of me, almost instantly in tears kind of thing. I am terrified for her to see me lose it though because what if it turns out exactly like before and she thinks I am crazy?

She also wants me to show emotions for other people, even my family. My family is the last people I want to be vulnerable with. My younger brother made the comment, when I mentioned if he read my facebook posts about my complaints about a hotel I was staying at, said yes, you always complain on facebook. In my experience, I see a lot of people posts complaints/irritation on facebook, but other people actually get compassion and caring words, I don't.

So when I first sent her the e-mail saying that I needed some time alone to get back to being okay with feeling, because I shut down with others, I needed to trust myself again and only have that trust in myself, I was surprised I felt hurt/disappointed then she didn't try to talk me out of it. I think a part of me wanted her to say, you need me, I can be there for you, let me help you. So I spent three weeks working on feeling my body and emotions. I even had a new memory pop up.

I went back two weeks ago and after telling her I wasn't as emotional/in touch with things as I wanted, I realized I was close to tears the first half of the appointment and pretty dissociated. So I guess I did a lot better than I thought with getting in touch with my emotions. Even though I was still fighting to stay in control in front of her.

 

[WillowMarie]

I think a new trigger emerged. It happened at least two-three times within two days this week.

I was exiting my car and there was a taxi next to me. The driver (?) was in the backseat talking on the phone, leaning forward between the two front seats. The windows were up, so I couldn't hear anything, but when I glanced over, it looked like he was having an excited conversation, and was using his hands to talk. Like pointing/waving them around. I felt myself hold my breath for a second and my heart skip a beat. I thought, interesting... don't think that ever affected me before, whatever.

And while at work, I saw another guy walking down an aisle talking on the phone. Again, I couldn't really hear him, but he was using his hand to talk. I felt myself hold my breath again and freeze up for a second.

By this time, I realize it may be a new trigger, and not just a fluke since it happened more than once. They both had in common the hands, kind of moving them around like they were frustrated, angry.

It reminded me of the time I was in therapy (months ago) and my therapist had my close my eyes and tell her what I saw. Very vaguely, I saw my dad standing over me pointing his finger at me, not in a happy way. as if he was yelling/scolding me for something. I started to feel scared and started trembling, so I kind of shut down in therapy. And I don't really feel comfortable doing this type of thing in therapy because who knows if what comes up is real. When they come back to be on my own, I have a distinct feeling that I know it happened when I remember, even if later it feels distant and that it wasn't part of me, but I know it was.