Strange Star

[Hope4Now]

Strange energies today. I could not go to work. I have no idea why I seemed incapable of removing myself from the kitchen table to go, other than the clue that yesterday felt like a life and death struggle to get through. I did manage to get the materials to the partner who is submitting to the state RFP, but even that was a monumental effort.

I was showered and dressed. I simply could not get up and go. No flashback or blending as usual. Just detached awareness that I couldn't do it. Like two (?) presences in the same body...one ready for work and saying, "What the hell? Come on!" and the other(s) silent and insistently frozen to the chair. The others won the battle. Spent the day (yes, the day) drinking coffee and significantly revising and adding to a poem I'd started a while back. Many synchronicities that were exciting in the process...revisited Yeats, Eliot, and my old friend Blake. I have no idea if it is a "good" poem from any external judge, but I like it a lot. We'll see what happens when I submit the quartet to a journal, which I am intent on doing. I doubt they'll be accepted, but the act of sending them out seems compellingly important to me. Again, I don't really know why. Either masochism or fragile hope.

Tonight accompanied my husband to an event in the big ole city. It was okay. Ladies night (!) for one of the groups of which he is a member. Held at a very "fahncy" venue. It's a good group for him. Good people. He says it feels like "home" and that is important. I met a couple of women who were pretty genuine...one an artist. A good one...the three of us hid in the ladies room to look at her art on her cell phone (phones are verboten at this venue). She is quite good. She was pleasantly surprised when I recognized the allusion on one of her pieces to Le Voyage Dans La Lune (Georges Melies). I was pleasantly surprised myself as I often miss obvious allusions.

Then, on the way home, I started hurting my arms again. I wish I understood better why I do this sometimes. We had others in the car with us, neighbors, who talked rather incessantly about their lives. I think maybe I was trying to stay present to them. It was minor, what I did, and hopefully will fade by morning, but I am disturbed by the parts that urge it. It is different from the dark energy I had last week...far less fearsome and threatening.

Tomorrow is my last day of work, for the time being. I have not finished what I had promised. I have not signed a contract for the fall. I've pissed off the new business guy by telling him what he needed to hear. I called in sick today, and probably will tomorrow unless something in me shifts back. As of now, I have no income for the next two months. And most parts of me don't really care. THAT is scaring me most of all. We will not be able to cover our bills. We will start drowning in debt, something I swore I would never ever let happen again. I am simply too wiped out to do anything or care. I feel completely detached writing this.

Guess I will try to sleep. Sigh. And people keep saying I'm "just beginning" the process of healing. If this is just beginning, I'm not sure I want to know what the middle looks like. Maybe I could just skip that and go to the end part...the part where one is whole again and in control of one's energies? I can deal with sad and scared etc. I can't deal with multiple consciousnesses warring so intensely that I am an immobilized bystander.

 

[Eleanor]

Hugs if you want them (((((((((( Hope )))))))))).... Talk to those bits... see whats up with them. The middle may go quicker than you fear....

 

[Hope4Now]

I had an okay day today after a roller coaster night of cycling between flashbacks and panic and being here for my family.

One peculiar hellish aspect of my version of PTSD is that I don't know if my day today was okay because I silenced my "parts" to be the awesome mom (as I mostly do), or if it actually was okay in a genuine way. I guess probably a bit of both. It is so hard to tell sometimes...Took my daughter to her new camp...we sang and talked for the whole ride, and it was good. I felt very connected to her, and this can be quite a feat with a pre-teen girl. But this morning, it was about the last thing I wanted to do--six plus hours of driving plus another 2 or 3 at the camp. I was exhausted and had to force myself to do it. The pain is really bad today. Is that because I had to walk so much on rocky paths to get to her cabin and the waterfront, or because I'm really stressed? I don't know. I wish my pain could speak in words to me...or even pictures. Anything.

I made a brave communicative step last night and told my husband that I did not think I could go north with him in the next couple of weeks to deal with UB and cleaning out the house up there. I know he wants me to go. He doesn't like being up there on his own, and was dropping all kinds of hints about needing company. I took the leap and said pretty bluntly to him that I am completely fried. Exhausted. And that I really need to take the time while our daughter is away to rest and do some creative work. He was obviously disappointed, and this was (and continues to be) really hard for me. I am not meeting his needs, and I am disappointing him. But, the world didn't end when I said what I needed. He still loves me. He was quite understanding. I need to wrap my head around this rather radical discovery.

My husband just called to tell me that there was a piece on NPR tonight about a guy with PTSD. His therapist asked him, "When was the last time you were happy?" He recalled being happy dancing, and then got really into dance. This question intrigued me. I am not often happy. Mostly I get "relieved" or have moments of okay-ness. I would like to be happy more often. Happy in the sense of free and comfortable in myself, with a sense of connection to the web of existence. With a true relaxation in the fact that only the now matters. It does happen every once in a while, so I know it is possible. I am now going to try to find the NPR show and listen to it.

 

[Hope4Now]

Rant alert. I was ready to do something terrible to myself tonight, but I made two good choices...went to my community garden to harvest herbs and beans and peas (yes, the peas survived). No I am going to rant. If it isn't enough, I am going to call my therapist who will say nice calming things to me.

Being with my mother gives whole new meaning to "exposure therapy." In five hours, pretty much every trigger and anxiety provoker I that could occur occurred...from her obsession with the likelihood that she has cancer (she does not), to her telling me I lie because she doesn't remember what I'm talking about, to going to the doctor's office where they asked me to help her give a urine sample (that was hideous on so many different levels...asking to help her when I am not able to, being in an enclosed bathroom with her for almost an hour while she tried to go), her comments on my body, my hair, my clothing, my jewelry, my work choices, my husband, my children, my parenting, blaming me for having moved up here (she was the one desperate to do it), blaming me for imprisoning her in assisted living and taking her car away, talking about all the other kids who take their parents on vacation, singing my father's praises for being such a great man, her perpetual revisiting of the hideous night he died and what she should have done (yes, call 911).

In a desperate attempt to make conversation, I told her I was writing some poetry. She asked to see it. I said no. She asked why not. I said it wouldn't interest her. She asked why. I told her it was about science and math stuff. Explained what black holes are and fractals. Then she said why are you writing nonsense like that? You should be writing...blah blah blah. Same story since I was little. I always SHOULD be doing something other than what I am doing.

I answered every one of them in a mature and patient way. I told her that I am not her. I am a different person. She does not understand that. She even tells me that I should not be cold in this weather (she is always hot, and we were in an air conditioned restaurant and I was frozen).

I KNOW she is not purposely doing this to me. I KNOW this is just what happens and always has. I KNOW I am an adult and ought to be able to let this stuff just bounce off. That part of me is the one that can be compassionate and respond patiently if firmly.

But other parts of me feel violated. I KNOW they're child parts. But I can't heal them or even be nice to them...because she seeps into my system and takes over...I end up looking at myself from her perspective, and I hate myself. It's all just one big quagmire of unhappiness. I've taken on her shit and used it to destroy myself. Sick sick sick.

I have been good about boundary-setting...she has been calling less (or I have been ignoring the phone), and I take her out 1x week. This is better than before.

I don't know. I have said all this before. Parts of me can laugh about how crazy she is, parts of me are very angry that she is so unable to see her effect. but parts of me are so deeply and violently hurt that even a little comment makes me feel like I want to rip my skin off to get her out of my system.

 

[Eleanor]

Um. Hope? Your mother sounds like a pretty toxic person in general. She is most certainly toxic for you. Why exactly are you spending five precious hours of your life with her? When you could use that time for your own self and healing - perhaps even... fun?

You don't have to spend time with her. Children have some obligation to parents who didn't abuse or severely neglect them to make sure they are fed and sheltered and otherwise basically cared for, in my view. There is no obligation that requires you to subject yourself to continuing abuse. Which this is.

The child parts need you. Now. That's what I'm hearing.:cry:

less seriously:
....Unless she is going to die soon and leave you seven or more million dollars. Then you should hang in there for a bit.:devilish:

 

[Hope4Now]

I got through the night intact. Wanted to call my therapist but didn't. I don't know why I have such a hard time reaching out like that...just the old inner children fearful of causing chaos. After my rant, I talked to my son for a while, then finished the poem I'd been struggling with (I'm still not happy with the last bit, but I'm declaring it done for now). Then I made an appointment with the massage therapist for the morning. The night was tough with lots of waking in various kinds of vague flashbacks.

The massage was a good thing for me...calmed me down a lot and she worked on my neck which has been bothering me a lot. I talked by phone with my husband for a long time--it was a good, connected conversation that was more about deep stuff than about the usual boring practicalities that we deal with mostly. He seems a bit more centered. Realized he had to hire someone to help him deal with UB's house because it is far too overwhelming to do alone. He feels he understands UB better after going through the house on a deep level. The house is like UB's externalized psyche. Very, very interesting...a hoarder whose hoarding is very organized and reflective of profound desires for control and for connection with others. My husband is writing about the whole experience, and, I think, reflecting on himself at the same time. This is so good and healthy. Perhaps some profound healing will come out of this slowly evolving crisis. I hope so. I hope it doesn't tear us apart, or lead to my husband having a nervous breakdown. The GREAT thing is that he has found another therapist--saw her for the first time last Saturday and liked her. I am keeping my fingers crossed.

After the phone conversation, I went to lunch with a psychologist friend. He's about to embark on a new book about education and wanted to talk about it. We had a good conversation. I felt like he was excited by and receptive to my ideas, and that made me feel good. He is very encouraging of me finding a new "life" for myself in terms of creative stuff. I had to laugh because what he said to me at the end of lunch was almost verbatim what my therapist was saying to me last friday when we had what he called a "macro" session--all about what's going on in my outer life.

I came home and took a nap. Stunned that I slept very deeply for 3 1/2 hours. I haven't done this for a very long time. It probably happened because things are quiet here--no work, no obligations. It was good I think to do it. I also had an epic dream during that nap...another one whose meaning is blatantly obvious, but this was far more involved and detailed than the others. My therapist says that dreams are often the way that your inner children communicate with you when you aren't listening the right way in conscious life. Given the dreams I've been having lately, I suppose that's true. They are not about abuse (except very peripherally), but more about the healing process I need to follow.

@Eleanor you are right about my mother. I'm very stuck between the proverbial rock and hard place with her. I am not willing to write her off. I have found a place for her to be somewhat cared for, but she still requires my help (like the doctor's appointment, shopping, etc.) because there is nobody else to do it. She has no idea what she has done to me; I'm sure of that. I am the only family she has. I am a decent and responsible person. So, I am working on minimizing my contact with her as much as possible without terrible backlash, and on trying to heal my poor inner children so that I don't have the intense reactions to my mother that I do. There's nothing I would like more than to have other people who could take on some of the load and give me more of a break between seeing her, but there isn't anyone. And, of course, she wants me and only me anyway. Nobody else "counts" for her. It is a very sick relationship. Sometimes I think I suffer from that thing they call Helsinki Syndrome when you're devoted to your abusers and make excuses for them. I probably do. I seem to have a lot of trauma issues. Ugh.

I really appreciate what you say though. Somehow part of this healing path I am on is trying to believe that my mother is/was the cause of much of what I am going through. My father is dead now so he's not a current issue any more, thankfully. No more running off to retrieve him from the ER or talk my mother down when the police called to say they'd found him drunk and wandering, or trying to get them to be civilized to each other, or to separate, or any of the other things I had to do all my life. So, even though it is really bad with my mother right now, it's actually better than it used to be.

 

[Eleanor]

I don't know if this will be at all helpful Hope, but ... just in case.

In ethics we make a distinction between crimes of commission and crimes of omission. That is, sometimes we do wrong by acting, other times by not acting. And often not acting can leave deeper scars than acting.

I have recently been trying to convince my best friend that there is nothing selfish about taking care of herself, and weighing her own interests in a decision at least equally too (and I think appropriately slightly more heavily that others in this case for her, because it effects her more) the interests of others. I remind her that this is the transition at the most advanced stage of moral development for women (according to several theorists) and remind her of why it is important (essentially, because if you don't take care of yourself and nurture yourself you eventually become useless to anyone else... a justification that works at the stage she is at, but which also matters, albeit in a different way, at the stage she is moving into - at the more advanced stage she just matters all by herself, without reference to others.)

And so, dear Hope, with you. You matter. All by yourself, you matter. All the bits and pieces matter. And if you would not subject actual separate children to the harm that your mother causes - you need not subject yourself. Even if it hurts her. Please don't think I am telling you what to do - I've no idea how this could/should go in practice, that is totally your call. What I am telling you is that your obligation to her does not include exposing yourself(ves) to further harm. She is a damaged person, and you are not responsible for healing her damage or even for comforting her in her pain. That seems quite harsh I know. We are not required to further damage ourselves for others. We may do it ethically, but ONLY where the harm to us is clearly outweighed by the benefit to others. And it is not clear to me (for lack of information) if your care of her is doing her anything more than momentary good, while it is doing you lasting harm. If that is an apt description, then you ought not to expose yourself to the harm. If you stopped doing all this, other people could. And they might. But they won't if you keep on. That is how these things ordinarily work. So you may need to take a risk to get out of the pattern. Your primary obligation here is to you/those suffering children inside you. That is how it looks from here. (Admittedly a partial, and possibly biased view.)

Do people in her position in your community typically go neglected and their basic needs unmet?

As someone who chronically makes excuses for others, I can say it is a bad habit, and one that is actually harmful to others. :( Well intentioned tho it is:angelic:.

Hang in there Hope. I am glad your inners are showing you a way forward! And sleep is such a tremendous blessing...

 

[Hope4Now]

And so, dear Hope, with you. You matter. All by yourself, you matter. All the bits and pieces matter.

You have no idea how deeply your post has moved me. Particularly the piece I quoted above. Thank you from deep in my heart.

On a somewhat ironic note, I met with my therapist today. What you have said in both of your responses to my diary is almost exactly what he said to me. I am killing myself by continuing to expose myself to my mother (and running myself ragged trying to meet all the other people's needs around me too). I am trying to wrap my head (and heart) around this. I haven't yet.

Your comments about the ethics that inform my behavior as it relates to my mother are good for me to process. I continue to help her because it seems like the right thing to do. I am a deeply ethical person. For whatever reason from my childhood though (probably a combination of the sickness of my parents, and my Roman Catholic upbringing that just reinforced everything), my ethics developed around the expectation that one sacrifice oneself to meet the needs of others. As I am an extreme-ish sort of person in general, I think this ethic is what continues to drive me; it's pretty much my default operating system. What you said about it only being ethical to harm yourself when the good it will do others outweighs that harm is an interesting way for me to think about. I know I need to reset my ethical operating system.

What I don't know is whether my bowing out of my mother's life mostly will harm me more than staying in it. I have a very toxic inner critic that will torture me if I do this...probably in ways far worse than what I feel when I am triggered by my mother. On the other hand, I'm trying to figure out whether she would truly sink if I'm not there. There really is not much there for her...there's some, probably enough to survive, but not enough for a person to thrive. I'm trying to figure all this out; hoping there is a way to find some sort of balance without my having to separate from her.

Your post really, really helped. Thank you.

 

[Pietro]

I have NOT been getting updates for your diary. :shifty: That's my excuse.

Being with my mother gives whole new meaning to "exposure therapy."

Well, I'm late to this, and Eleanor already said most of what I would have said already, and probably better.

You said it yourself -- your mother doesn't mean to do any harm. This is the way she is. Regardless, how she behaves is harmful, because it's intrusive and invalidating to you, and always has been. She's assaulting your sense of "self", trying to convince you that your self is not as good or smart or valuable as her self. This is not acceptable, from anyone, even parents.

Same story since I was little. I always SHOULD be doing something other than what I am doing.

Me too. Sucks. My mother isn't quite this invalidating, but she goes through periods where she is, and she's getting worse as she gets older. She continually laments that I'm no longer a musician. ;)

I told her that I am not her. I am a different person. She does not understand that.

Good job on your part. Not surprising that she doesn't understand, though. She's narcissistic -- it will take a sledgehammer to change her perspective, just like my mother. ;) When my mother, goes too far, I just tell her to stop. She insisted on "her right" to feed my kids sugary snacks in the afternoon, yesterday (she was watching them), even though I keep telling her that their raw sugar intake has to be carefully monitored. I finally asked her whether she gives a damn about the kids' health or not, and why she assumes she knows more about their health needs than I do. Pretty sure it didn't sink-in. ;)

But other parts of me feel violated.

This is good, very good. :) You probably don't see it within yourself, but there has been a gradual change in what you've been writing regarding you mom, over these past few months. Your "self" is no longer passively allowing these slights. You're reacting to them, identifying the boundary violations, and, most of all, asserting your right not to be violated! Big progress, I think. :)

Children have some obligation to parents who didn't abuse or severely neglect them to make sure they are fed and sheltered and otherwise basically cared for, in my view.

Agreed. The hardest part is that we still feel like emotionally battered children if ever our parent is upset with us for some reason. Whenever I discuss my mother's financial situation with her, it always ends-up with her saying something like, "Fine, guess I'll end-up on the street, eventually." There's an implication in this that her children don't care enough to take care of her if/when she runs-out of money and can no longer work. She wants to be "rescued". Yes, I feel bad when she does this; but, at the same time, I will not let her drag me and my kids down the same financial black hole she carved for herself.

There is no obligation that requires you to subject yourself to continuing abuse. Which this is.

I agree that this is abusive. And, at some point, you (@Hope4Now) probably have to tell your mom to stop saying such things, otherwise you won't be able to spend time with her. However, you have to be ready to do it. It's not easy; it's a big leap. My mother's bad behavior is not continuous; however, if it went-on long enough, I'd have to consider doing this as well.

My therapist says that dreams are often the way that your inner children communicate with you when you aren't listening the right way in conscious life.

I just wish that the damned dreams were a little more clear in their meaning. ;) It is funny, though -- sometimes, when I'm thinking through things, I will get the same dream images to show-up in my mind over and over again, as if my "inners" keep trying to make the same point -- which I don't seem to be getting. Very frustrating.

 

[Hope4Now]

A lot of things are happening in my inner system recently. I think it's all good, but is also very frightening and unsettling and I still don't have any memory of the dark and suffocating presence that lurks around the edges of all the things I do remember throughout my childhood. That presence took me over yesterday morning in probably the worst flashback I have ever had. There was nothing there but darkness and a large, dark looming shadow, and a sense of my own dread and horror. I could see nothing, hear nothing. It went on for the longest time and when I emerged slowly from it, I did not feel free...just a pervasive sense of unreality and terrible anxiety, and shame.

My therapist tells me this is happening because I've somehow convinced my fierce protector parts to soften up just a little, and so all the wounded exile parts are leaping in to the space I've created. He used an analogy that made me laugh. He said it's like you've had all these wounded parts locked up in a basement, and now that the door has cracked open just a little, they're charging into the main house and raiding the refrigerator because they've been starved and alone for such a long time. LOL. It is a bit like what I feel like. Overtaken by total chaos.

This morning I had another experience that is one of the weirder ones I've had during this whole process (and that's saying something because I have had a lot of totally weird experiences...you'd think I was doing psychedelic drugs, but I'm not and I never have.) I won't detail it, but it suggests to me that at some point when I was very young--maybe 3 or 4--I had some kind of a split into two separate personalities who co-existed through much of my childhood--maybe until as late as age 12 or so. I remember both of these selves quite well, but this morning I had an experience that made me understand them differently, and maybe will help me make more progress in healing these exiled parts of myself. I am fearful of describing all this to my therapist because...well, he'll be fine and understanding of it...but I'm not sure I'm willing to accept a lot of what came out during this strange sort of flashback experience.

On a completely different note, I had the strangest conversation with my mother's brother on Thursday. I sent him an email explaining a little more about what this PTSD is that I am dealing with, and where it came from. I didn't detail anything, but I said that it would have been called developmental trauma if anyone had recognized it when I was young. And I did tell him that being with my mother is particularly difficult for me. He was, for the first time, actually appreciative that I had shared with him, and talked about my mother in a way he never has before. He said she is a petulant child. Always has been. Everything is about her and her own needs. She cannot understand other people's perspectives or needs. He told me a story that I had never heard before. When I was in college, he called my mother to let her know their mother was dying. My mother said, "Do you want me to come down there?" He said, "She is dying and you might want to be here, but it is up to you." My mother said, "Well, I have to get my hair done tomorrow." She never went down until the funeral. My uncle sat by his mother's side for 72 hours while she died, and my mother didn't go because she had to get her hair done. This story blew me away. It is the first real and concrete example I have that my sense of my mother is not me making things up, or my own over-sensitivity, or anything like that.

I'm still processing this conversation because there was more. I'm not sure how it makes me feel. Unmoored, I guess. My uncle went on to tell me lots of other bits and pieces too. Without ever acknowledging anything about MY experience (or why why why he never supported me but actively undermined my own sense of my lived reality with my parents), he sort of validated it at the same time by some of the things he said about my mother and father. It was very strange and convoluted.

 

[Eleanor]

My uncle sat by his mother's side for 72 hours while she died, and my mother didn't go because she had to get her hair done.

Well. That kind of sums it up, doesn't it? And it may be that he is only just processing it and coming to grips too...?? He may be only just becoming able to "see" your experience on this... so may only just be approaching the place where he can validate your experience. ??

What amazing healing work you are doing.

 

[Pietro]

He may be only just becoming able to "see" your experience on this... so may only just be approaching the place where he can validate your experience. ??

Yes, I agree. He may just be making the correlations between your mother and your experiences, now.

Interesting about your mother's behavior regarding her own mother. Your mother likely developed her behavior during her own upbringing, which makes me wonder if your mother had some deep-down bitterness regarding her own mother.