Weedflower
Bronze Member
Recently, my flashbacks have gotten more frequent and more intense despite the fact that I've been managing my symptoms very well.
My therapist says this is probably due to a lot of new changes in my life recently. I transferred to a huge university and I live away from my dad and my sister which is difficult. I don't have many friends here, though I try to make more. I also got my license right before I transferred and driving is extremely difficult for me. The first few months I drove, I had a panic attack almost every time I drove. Now I can relax a little, but I still tense up and panic a lot, especially in high traffic. My boyfriend also transferred to a university six hours away, and I don't think I was prepared for the strain of a long-distance relationship. On top of all of this, my workload at school has intensified and I work an internship on top of a part-time job. I'm constantly overwhelmed, but I need to do these things in order to have a lot of opportunities available once I graduate.
But I think what really made my symptom flare up like they are now is what happened to me last year. Last January, the day after my birthday, my brother called me and told me that his dad died. His dad was like a really cool uncle to me. I loved him so much. He was a drug addict, so we weren't exactly surprised, but it was a difficult experience.
To make matters worse, I of course needed to see my brother and go to the funeral. But my abuser, my mother, was there. My brother is in the military so he had to fly in for the funeral. He stayed with my mother. I had no choice but to go to her apartment to see him. Three days in a row I had to see her. She forced me and my sister, who she also abused, into hugs and kept squeezing our hands. We couldn't push her away or tell her not to touch us because we didn't want to make my brother upset. I think she knew this.
After the memorial service, my sister and I decided that we wanted to go with my brother to our mother's home to be with him. We decided that if we went together and stuck close to each other and our brother the entire time, we would be okay. My father waited at a nearby coffee shop with his phone next to him so that he could come get us the moment we needed an escape. My mother got extremely drunk the moment we got to her place. She pointed at a childhood photo of me and, in front of a room full of people I barely knew, said "Yes daughter, I do still keep photos of you. Just because you hate me doesn't mean I hate you." My sister squeezed my hand when she did that. We didn't even get to talk to my brother much because there were so many other people around so finally my sister and I text our dad to come get us. Right as we were trying to leave, my mother stopped me and told me that since my brother's dad just died, I should realize that she could die any day too, so I need to make up with her and have a relationship with her. I grit my teeth and told her that I was leaving. Luckily, my brother came in the room just then so she stepped aside.
But the next night, we had another memorial service for my brother's dad on the beach. His dad loved the beach, so we wanted to honor him by having a nice get together. My sister and my dad were with me so I stayed close to them when I couldn't talk to my brother. I wanted to put together audio recordings for my brother of people telling stories about his dad so I spent a lot of time on that. Of course, I had to get a story from my mother for him too. I tried to ask her when there were lots of people around, but she wouldn't let me. Somehow, later, I ended up sitting in her car with her and one of her friends. The friend told me a story, and then immediately left the car. I started to panic because I didn't want to be stuck. But my mother didn't lock the doors. She was pretty drunk, but she asked me to just talk to her.
I feel so desperate all of the time to have her in my life. I have this image of my mom, who loves me and protects me. And I have this image of my mother, who beat me, manipulated me, used me, and otherwise tortured me every day. And I forget that those images are not separate. Those images are the same person.
So I talked to her. And it was one of the biggest mistakes I have ever made. My father kept checking on me at first, but we were talking for over an hour. At some point he stopped checking and just waited nearby. I don't remember everything she said. Mainly she just kept trying use the death to guilt trip me into having a relationship with her again. I wouldn't. I won't. But she talked about remembering what it was like when I was born. How much she loved me. How big my eyes were. But then she said perhaps the most disturbing thing I have ever heard her say to me.
She said that I am hers. In an angry, possessive way. She said that since I came out of her body, she owns me. I belong to her. Then she screamed at me that she hates me. She flipped me off repeatedly and told me to go f*ck myself. f*ck you, f*ck you, I love you, but f*ck you go f*ck yourself. She said this over and over. And I kind of laughed. She was just throwing a temper tantrum. But I was terrified too. And then she said that I will never replace her. I will never have another mother in my life. I am hers. I don't get to replace her. And that scared me. I never looked to find a new mom in any way. Female role models, sure.
Then she proceeded to taunt me. Taunt me with the things she did that traumatized me. Like when I would beg her to stop being so loud when she had sex with whatever man was there. I would pound on the door and beg her to stop. I couldn't sleep. She would tell me to put my headphones in and turn the volume all the way up and then keep going. So many nights I slept on the bathroom floor or didn't sleep at all. For an entire year. She taunted me about this, describing in detail how I must know that she couldn't stop because she felt too good.
When she did that, I couldn't take it anymore. I don't really know what happened exactly. But something inside me broke, I think. I just started screaming. At first, it wasn't even words. I just screamed. And at some point those screams turned into I hate you, you're a horrible mother, you're a terrible mother, you were never a good mother, get away from me. I backed my way out of the car, fighting to get the door open, scratching my hand on something sharp. I tried to run away, but tripped and fell into the sand.
The cold sand felt so good on my face, in my hands. So I just laid there, face in the sand, screaming at the top of my lungs. Everyone came running over. When people got near me, I screamed even louder. I didn't want anyone to touch me. Then I heard my mother...not laughing. But somehow laughing. She told everyone I was just being a drama queen. She sounded so disconnected from the moment. Here I was, breaking, literally breaking because of her, and she just passed it off as me being a drama queen.
One of my mother's friends, the one that left me in the car with her, came to help me. When I looked up at her, she was crying. She said to me that she really thought something good would happen. I don't blame her. She hadn't seen my mother in almost 15 years. She had no idea. So I let her pick me up. And my father ran over just then too. And they put me in the back seat, but I couldn't stop screaming. I just laid there screaming the whole time.
Then my mother tried to force open the front passenger seat where my sister was sitting. My sister shoved my mother back out, forced the door shut, and slammed down the lock. Then we drove away. At some point, the combination of my father's slow driving and his gentle voice and my sister stroking my hair calmed me down and I stopped screaming.
And since then, my symptoms have been getting worse. I talked about that moment with my dad and with my sister and with my boyfriend and I called my best friend. I have a wonderful support network. But I still am getting worse. I started seeing my therapist a few months ago because of how bad I've been getting.
My therapist says its normal to wish my mother was dead. She said grieving the loss of someone in that way is actually easier than losing them in this way. But how do I move forward?
My flashbacks are triggered randomly, or sometimes just come out of no where. I have night terrors all of the time. For a few months, I started grinding my teeth in my sleep so badly that my boyfriend would have to shake me hard to wake me up. I have small panic attacks every day throughout the day. I can't get images of her hitting me, screaming at me, coming in my face, etc. out of my head.
Yesterday, I was teasing my friend a little too much so he jokingly pretended he was going to hit me with a pencil. The pencil got close to my face though so I snatched the pencil from him. I wanted to snap it in half and scream at my friend. But he was just being normal. I can't stop being angry at everything.
Since I moved, I can only see my therapist about once a month as she's located in my home town. I don't have a lot of time to go back home between school and work. Sometimes I have good days, but sometimes I'm barely floating above the surface between my sessions with her.
I will appreciate any advice anyone has. I will try anything. I just want to stop feeling so angry and scared all of the time.
My therapist says this is probably due to a lot of new changes in my life recently. I transferred to a huge university and I live away from my dad and my sister which is difficult. I don't have many friends here, though I try to make more. I also got my license right before I transferred and driving is extremely difficult for me. The first few months I drove, I had a panic attack almost every time I drove. Now I can relax a little, but I still tense up and panic a lot, especially in high traffic. My boyfriend also transferred to a university six hours away, and I don't think I was prepared for the strain of a long-distance relationship. On top of all of this, my workload at school has intensified and I work an internship on top of a part-time job. I'm constantly overwhelmed, but I need to do these things in order to have a lot of opportunities available once I graduate.
But I think what really made my symptom flare up like they are now is what happened to me last year. Last January, the day after my birthday, my brother called me and told me that his dad died. His dad was like a really cool uncle to me. I loved him so much. He was a drug addict, so we weren't exactly surprised, but it was a difficult experience.
To make matters worse, I of course needed to see my brother and go to the funeral. But my abuser, my mother, was there. My brother is in the military so he had to fly in for the funeral. He stayed with my mother. I had no choice but to go to her apartment to see him. Three days in a row I had to see her. She forced me and my sister, who she also abused, into hugs and kept squeezing our hands. We couldn't push her away or tell her not to touch us because we didn't want to make my brother upset. I think she knew this.
After the memorial service, my sister and I decided that we wanted to go with my brother to our mother's home to be with him. We decided that if we went together and stuck close to each other and our brother the entire time, we would be okay. My father waited at a nearby coffee shop with his phone next to him so that he could come get us the moment we needed an escape. My mother got extremely drunk the moment we got to her place. She pointed at a childhood photo of me and, in front of a room full of people I barely knew, said "Yes daughter, I do still keep photos of you. Just because you hate me doesn't mean I hate you." My sister squeezed my hand when she did that. We didn't even get to talk to my brother much because there were so many other people around so finally my sister and I text our dad to come get us. Right as we were trying to leave, my mother stopped me and told me that since my brother's dad just died, I should realize that she could die any day too, so I need to make up with her and have a relationship with her. I grit my teeth and told her that I was leaving. Luckily, my brother came in the room just then so she stepped aside.
But the next night, we had another memorial service for my brother's dad on the beach. His dad loved the beach, so we wanted to honor him by having a nice get together. My sister and my dad were with me so I stayed close to them when I couldn't talk to my brother. I wanted to put together audio recordings for my brother of people telling stories about his dad so I spent a lot of time on that. Of course, I had to get a story from my mother for him too. I tried to ask her when there were lots of people around, but she wouldn't let me. Somehow, later, I ended up sitting in her car with her and one of her friends. The friend told me a story, and then immediately left the car. I started to panic because I didn't want to be stuck. But my mother didn't lock the doors. She was pretty drunk, but she asked me to just talk to her.
I feel so desperate all of the time to have her in my life. I have this image of my mom, who loves me and protects me. And I have this image of my mother, who beat me, manipulated me, used me, and otherwise tortured me every day. And I forget that those images are not separate. Those images are the same person.
So I talked to her. And it was one of the biggest mistakes I have ever made. My father kept checking on me at first, but we were talking for over an hour. At some point he stopped checking and just waited nearby. I don't remember everything she said. Mainly she just kept trying use the death to guilt trip me into having a relationship with her again. I wouldn't. I won't. But she talked about remembering what it was like when I was born. How much she loved me. How big my eyes were. But then she said perhaps the most disturbing thing I have ever heard her say to me.
She said that I am hers. In an angry, possessive way. She said that since I came out of her body, she owns me. I belong to her. Then she screamed at me that she hates me. She flipped me off repeatedly and told me to go f*ck myself. f*ck you, f*ck you, I love you, but f*ck you go f*ck yourself. She said this over and over. And I kind of laughed. She was just throwing a temper tantrum. But I was terrified too. And then she said that I will never replace her. I will never have another mother in my life. I am hers. I don't get to replace her. And that scared me. I never looked to find a new mom in any way. Female role models, sure.
Then she proceeded to taunt me. Taunt me with the things she did that traumatized me. Like when I would beg her to stop being so loud when she had sex with whatever man was there. I would pound on the door and beg her to stop. I couldn't sleep. She would tell me to put my headphones in and turn the volume all the way up and then keep going. So many nights I slept on the bathroom floor or didn't sleep at all. For an entire year. She taunted me about this, describing in detail how I must know that she couldn't stop because she felt too good.
When she did that, I couldn't take it anymore. I don't really know what happened exactly. But something inside me broke, I think. I just started screaming. At first, it wasn't even words. I just screamed. And at some point those screams turned into I hate you, you're a horrible mother, you're a terrible mother, you were never a good mother, get away from me. I backed my way out of the car, fighting to get the door open, scratching my hand on something sharp. I tried to run away, but tripped and fell into the sand.
The cold sand felt so good on my face, in my hands. So I just laid there, face in the sand, screaming at the top of my lungs. Everyone came running over. When people got near me, I screamed even louder. I didn't want anyone to touch me. Then I heard my mother...not laughing. But somehow laughing. She told everyone I was just being a drama queen. She sounded so disconnected from the moment. Here I was, breaking, literally breaking because of her, and she just passed it off as me being a drama queen.
One of my mother's friends, the one that left me in the car with her, came to help me. When I looked up at her, she was crying. She said to me that she really thought something good would happen. I don't blame her. She hadn't seen my mother in almost 15 years. She had no idea. So I let her pick me up. And my father ran over just then too. And they put me in the back seat, but I couldn't stop screaming. I just laid there screaming the whole time.
Then my mother tried to force open the front passenger seat where my sister was sitting. My sister shoved my mother back out, forced the door shut, and slammed down the lock. Then we drove away. At some point, the combination of my father's slow driving and his gentle voice and my sister stroking my hair calmed me down and I stopped screaming.
And since then, my symptoms have been getting worse. I talked about that moment with my dad and with my sister and with my boyfriend and I called my best friend. I have a wonderful support network. But I still am getting worse. I started seeing my therapist a few months ago because of how bad I've been getting.
My therapist says its normal to wish my mother was dead. She said grieving the loss of someone in that way is actually easier than losing them in this way. But how do I move forward?
My flashbacks are triggered randomly, or sometimes just come out of no where. I have night terrors all of the time. For a few months, I started grinding my teeth in my sleep so badly that my boyfriend would have to shake me hard to wake me up. I have small panic attacks every day throughout the day. I can't get images of her hitting me, screaming at me, coming in my face, etc. out of my head.
Yesterday, I was teasing my friend a little too much so he jokingly pretended he was going to hit me with a pencil. The pencil got close to my face though so I snatched the pencil from him. I wanted to snap it in half and scream at my friend. But he was just being normal. I can't stop being angry at everything.
Since I moved, I can only see my therapist about once a month as she's located in my home town. I don't have a lot of time to go back home between school and work. Sometimes I have good days, but sometimes I'm barely floating above the surface between my sessions with her.
I will appreciate any advice anyone has. I will try anything. I just want to stop feeling so angry and scared all of the time.
