Fading Out for a Bit

September 2, 2011

The past several months have been very difficult to live and work through. I feel like I haven’t found the support in blog world or in real life that I’ve needed lately. I don’t even know what kind of support I’m expecting. I feel I tried to reach out for help or advice and I wasn’t understood. I think my choice of words didn’t convey what I was feeling properly, either. I don’t seem to be getting across how I feel in therapy, and I’ve only been able to see her twice since summer began. That is my own fault and I blame myself for being screwy and misunderstood.

I am in a better place than I was two years ago.

I’m angry at the world and at myself.

Time slips away and I’m unable to use it effectively.

All my energy is focused on my family making it through the day safely and intact. They are fine, but that’s because I make sure they are.

I have no focus and no purpose. I’ve lost interest in my hobbies and I don’t have any time for them anyway.

There is no time to make time. It’s all accounted for.

Things I hate:

My parents (Die already, you fucking assholes!)

My life

My thoughts

My body

Food

Sex

Time

People in my community

People in general

Responsibility

The Internet

Television

Telephone

My in-laws

Money

Sleep

Anxiety

Love

Memories

Universe

Mental health

Hope

Truth

Optimism

News

I’m going to lay low again for a while. Life is punishment. I feel I’m being punished for surviving child sexual abuse. I feel my only purpose now is to see my own children live safe and free. My life has little meaning for me and I don’t see the reason for giving it a purpose. Two years I’ve been actively trying to make and find my life, not in a selfish way, but trying to integrate myself internally and externally. I have the diagnosis and the tools and the desire, but I feel the Universe just pushes me back into a box where I am a mom and wife and that’s it.

Things go much more smoothly when I play mom and wife. If a DID issue arises I deal with it and get back to mom and wife. When I try to find my purpose, or try new things bad things happen or get complicated.

I’m not going to try anymore to find myself or be more than I am for now. It’s depressing, tiring, and it unravels all the mommy and wife work I’ve done. It feels like the Universe wants me in a box for now and I’m willing to be there. I’m not a hero, I don’t have the strength to fight constantly, and I have no reason or purpose that I understand.

If this makes no sense to anyone, I’m sorry. This isn’t a pity party. I’m just giving up for now. I can’t find inspiration in myself or from others and I’m tired. Maybe things will start looking up this fall. Rose is tired of roaring.

Oh, what I wouldn’t give for a boring, uneventful week…..

My ex-husband is a fucking useless waste of life. His oxygen use should go to others who really need it, and the space his body takes up could be used for an extra set of shelves or something. Anyhoo… today may be the last day I ever have to deal with him in a “we have a child together” way. My plan of attack………….apathy. I’m picking up my son and his belongings because he’s moving back in with my family. He wanted to live with his dad a bit, which is great, and I’m glad he did because he learned what a jackass he really is. Good life lesson.

My husband won’t be there because he’s a feisty Italian, and the girls won’t be there because they don’t need to be. The greatest weapon in my Asshole Arsenal is apathy. Asshole tries to bait me again and again, but as long as I’m armed with Apathy, and use it well, it always protects me. If I don’t care then you can’t hurt me. If I don’t acknowledge your stupidity it can’t affect me. If I pretend you don’t exist I dehumanize you, take you for granted and you are nothing to me. I’ve fallen for his stupid games a couple of times but it’s okay. Apathy is my weapon and my defense.

I don’t feel comfortable using Apathy because it was used against me for over forty years. It’s hard to wield this mighty weapon, destroyer of self, self-confidence, and hope. It goes against everything I believe in – the value of life, the validation of existence, the importance of feeling important. It’s a cruel, wicked thing that can mean the difference between life worth living and not feeling worthy of life. Apathy is insidious. You can’t see it or touch it but it can put a hole right through your heart without leaving a mark.

I know that throughout most days Apathy means little, but Apathy constantly drilled into you day after day, and reinforced by the rest of your world time and time again………it’s like being pulverized into sand.

However….today I am not going to be hurt. Today I am not going to be put in a position where I am forced to do anything I don’t want to. Today I am not going to say anything I will regret. Today I will use Apathy in my defense to protect myself and my son.

I imagine that if I were being shot at and the assailant dropped their gun, I would pick up that weapon and defend myself to the death. Yet, to choose Apathy as my weapon, knowing how to use it and how it’s been used against me, knowing I need to use it….well, it feels so heavy, so burdensome, and so overkill.

Sometimes I need to fight like the enemy. And that is the most disturbing truth of all.

Facta non verba – Deeds not words

Sometimes the most important action you can perform is the one that says “I don’t need you”. It’s very empowering and helps release anger, frustration, and powerlessness. It’s not necessary to say it in front of the person, especially when your actions demonstrate to all around you and the person that this person no longer has any hold on you and cannot touch you or affect your life.

It just feels good. It feels even better when you don’t even have to try, or think about it, and it just comes naturally.

Save the anger for something else………like the person who washed the red shirt with the whites. Now there’s justification for anger.

 

Oh yeah!

 

There’s more to this, but I’ve never written about the abuse inflicted by my ex-husband. It was nasty.

My oldest graduated from high school today and while he was there with his wife and they did a very foolish, childish, very public display of stupidity I was okay and was able to laugh it off around them for the brief time I was near them. But enough of that silly stuff – my boy graduated! Yay!  *whew*

I think they can see me, like maybe there’s a camera that they placed somewhere in here that I haven’t found yet.

When I get dressed it has to be in a small, closed space so no one can see me. I would be horrified if I had to dress elsewhere.

Sitting in my own house with the windows open I am extremely aware of how I look, move, breathe, talk, everything because someone may be watching from outside a window.

When I walk across the yard or to the mail box I have to put one foot carefully in front of the other, put my shoulders back, and walk with purpose. I don’t know why.

I can’t type anything on the computer if someone else is in the room.

My food needs to be spaced a particular way on my plate and eaten in a certain order or I can’t eat it and my appetite will just disappear.

All the surfaces have to be clean in the house or I go nuts.

The bathroom is always meticulously clean. I don’t want any germs there.

It’s sad. I can’t navigate through this if I don’t know what the rules are.

Been here seven years and I’ve been invited to only one house party. Until last year I volunteered whenever I could, listened to people, etc., but I think I must look and act so weird that people don’t want to be around me or wish to try and find out more about me. I don’t volunteer anymore and I don’t shop local anymore. Now I drive 15 minutes to shop in a city where I’m anonymous.

Abusing a child and beating into them that they are nothing, and exist only as an experiment, an object, and less than human makes it hard to get through the day. I can’t see where I’m going, so I just keep moving and moving until I stop.

I’m so scatterbrained and feel so weird.

 

 

 

Last night I had a very graphic dream about something my mother did which was sexually abusive and as a child never understood.Then this morning I received the following email from my her:

“Dear Lisa,

I want to start by saying that I know that you are angry at us for something we have done and I want to say that what ever it was , we are sorry and we really do love you very much and pray that some day you will forgive us.

I want you to know that your dad is ill and in the hospital. I just got home from the emergency room and he is being admitted. He is diagnosed with pancreatitis and they are doing an MRI tomorrow and calling in the GI doctors and pancreatic surgeon to evaluate the MRI tomorrow. At this time we do not know what it is, but with his history of cancer we are concerned. I will let you know what is going on.

Love Mom”

After hubby and I read it two things occurred to us:

1. She wants me to confront her so she can try and be penitent so I will forgive them, and

2. She realizes that my dad may not be around for much longer and she will be alone and it’s starting to scare her, so she needs to try and connect with me (and maybe my drug-addict sister) to take care of her.

I just wanted to note that she did not give the name of a hospital, a phone number or anything. That’s what she does, though. She leaves out pertinent information to make you go to her and then makes you do things for her while she soaks up the drama.

Several years ago hubby and I knew what we would say when she comes asking for help – “We’re sure you’ll find a nice retirement home.”. It’s not our problem, it’s not our responsibility.

Thinking about my dad dying didn’t make me angry or depressed. Rather, I felt relief, hope and freedom. It just washed over and inside me. He hasn’t tried to contact me in months which is nice. If he is dying and wishes to see me I won’t go. I expect there may be phone calls from relatives, but it’s none of their business and I’m happy to tell them so.

I feel hopeful after reading other blogs and how they reacted to their father’s deaths. We’ll be okay and we’ll feel safer and that’s always a good thing.

Keeping up with reading and writing a blog is taking a back seat to mentally and physically preparing myself for surgery in a few weeks. As DID thingies arise it’s been a little easier to handle and I’ve been pleasantly surprised to understand just how well my coping skills are working lately.

As okay as this has been going the past few weeks I have been triggered by my mother’s email-spamming (tons of stupid, usually christian, forwarded crap) and her personal emails to me. Following are her personal emails. I had thought about picking them apart and explaining the lies, stupidity, nonsense, etc., but I feel better simply posting them. It has been one year since I’ve spoken to my parents on the phone. I have never asked about them or any member of my family. I have never written them an email, only responded if necessary. So here goes the personal emails over the past month:

Apr. 18, 2011

Hi Lisa,

Just wanted you to know that we will be out of town today to wed , so if you need us for anything, you can call us on the tracfone.
We sent out the kids Easter baskets sat. Hope all is well with you and hope you two had a wonderful anniversary.

Love, mom and dad
—————————————————————
Apr. 21, 2011

We went to see your dad’s chest surgeon today and he had his CT scan of his chest before the appt and the doctor said that his chest now looks like that of a normal patient. No cancer and whatever it was that he had in the remaining lobes that the pulmonologist checked is no longer there. GOOD NEWS

Love mom and dad
—————————————————————
Apr. 30, 2011

 Good morning Lisa,

Today we are dropping you a line because you do not want us to call, to say we hope that [daughter] has a wonderful birthday and the day itself will be beautiful for her.
We were wondering also, how you made out with the storm, hope there was no damage. I was thinking about that area way in back of house that is like a swamp and if it filled up with water?  Hope you all have a wonderful day.

Love mom and dad

****NB****I have never said that I don’t want them to call****
————————————————————–
May 4, 2011

Hi honey,

Just wanted you to know that this weather craps the bed

Love, mom
—————————————————————–
May 5, 2011

Hi honey,

Dad went to dermatologist yesterday and had 3 biopsy’s of his head, they will let us know how they turn out. This man has had every part of his body biopsied.
How are you doing with your sugar and sleeping? Also your knee’s.
The sun was wonderful today.
[daughter] enjoy her birthday, did she have friends for a sleep over?

Talk to you later,
Love you, mom
————————————————————-
May 9, 2011

Howdy Lisa,

Hope you had a wonderful Mother’s day, I got thinking about it and I envisioned [daughter] and [daughter] making your dinner, since you taught them both to cook. Did they? If so , what did they make. Hope it was a day of rest for you, you need it.
Your Dad went to your grandma’s because I was sick. He got her a Jesus coffee cup that says Jesus saves and when you pour coffee in it , his beard comes off his face and it says Jesus shaves. She loved it.
Well , take care and I love you, Mom
————————————————————-
May 12, 2011

Hello my sweets,

Wanted to let you know that dad biopsies , none were cancer.
Also, we will be leaving town tomorrow morning till Sunday. It’s your dad’s once a year golf trip with the boys and so I’m going away with Sue till Sunday. You can always get a hold of me on the track phone if something happens.
This is the kind of weather I like and we have been getting a lot of outdoor work done and gardens are looking good. We really hope you can come down this summer. Have you started your vegetable garden yet?

Love, Mom
—————————————————————-
May 16, 2011

We got back yesterday. It was raining here when we left,raining where we went,raining where your dad went and raining when we came home, it’s unbelievable and it was pouring when we got up today. Unfortunately john and your dad got sick on their dinner Friday night, which curtailed their activity a little bit for rest of weekend. Sue and I had a very good time and everything went well.
Hope all is well with you. How are the girls and [son] doing?
I see your mother-in-law is having surgery, I sent her a note to let me know how she does.
Talk to you soon, Love Mom
—————————————————————

I was trying and working really hard, but these emails brought out two new alters, night terrors, panic attacks, and a sensation of being choked that keeps coming and going. My hallucinations were going away until now and my psychiatrist is scheduling a CT brain scan in July and has tweaked some medications.

I don’t delete these personal emails right away in case they are attempting to come to the house and sometimes it’s difficult to tell by her subject line.

The new alters are quite talkative and sometimes it feels like they are riding on my shoulders wherever I go, but they feel safe and comfortable. That’s what’s important, too. We need to feel safe, comfortable, aware, accepted, loved, respected and validated.

I’m not ranting really. Those little girls wouldn’t have come forward if they didn’t feel it was time, and while my coping techniques are useful for many situations I see now where I need some extra stuff.

Everything just keeps building upon the last step. I want it to reach a landing so I can take a break for a while before continuing on this healing journey.

DID is a busy disorder. So much to do, so little time. I feel like I am the leader of a small country with my citizens constantly clamoring to be heard.

I wanted to write about the last couple of weeks, but a few little girls need to express how they experienced mother-daughter sexual abuse.  **trigger** It goes something like this:

WHY? WHY?
I DIDN’T DO ANYTHING!
STOP IT!
OKAY! OKAY!

Only she never got to say that out loud. Mom hurt her, belittled her, and made her believe what was happening was her fault. Mom stripped her essence and beat into her that she was an unworthy whore. She watched and she laughed and she did nothing. She still watches and she still laughs and she still belittles.

She hurt me and she let me be hurt. She put me in serious situations that no child should ever be in. She told me to shut up and stop faking when I said I hurt.

I have always remembered the way she treated (treats) me. I have always had little glimpses and funny feelings about other things she did to me. Now a few little girls are helping me understand what did happen and why I had those funny feelings. I’m trying very hard to accept and respect their experiences. These girls hurt so bad. I’m beginning to feel their rage, humiliation, and disgust and I keep pushing it down so I can get through the day.

Tomorrow is therapy and I hope I can bring these girls to the forefront and learn to work through these feelings safely.

I didn’t mean to trigger anyone.

Today in therapy I named names and began to graphically described what happened. I have been waiting all day for paranoia to set in, but it’s calm inside. Part of me wants to write my therapist a letter asking her to not accept large amounts of cash for giving me up to those people (in case they find out somehow). Sometimes I believe the office is bugged, but I don’t care right now.

I want to see my grandchildren someday so I hope I don’t get killed for telling her. It took me over one year to really trust her and I don’t want her to turn out to be a spy for those people. When I got home I closed all the curtains and stayed away from the doors.

Maybe these fears will go away someday.

It has been difficult finding my voice, but it was behind the couch the whole time. (c’mon…laugh…it was cute…)

Hubby and I made a decision last year about how to end contact with my parents. We chose to do it step-by-step and thus far it is working. We also knew that my parents would work very hard to regain some control over me and that it would be difficult to ride through in the short term. I told him that they would, at least through their words, play a pseudo-legal game as a threat, even if they just hint at it. And so they have already. It’s just their game, and it is only words from desperate people, and we’re handling it okay. They like to threaten (even if it’s a subtle threat) and manipulate. They’re special that way.

A few therapy sessions ago my therapist said that we could consider legal avenues if we feel it necessary and I would have her support.

So anyway…I know many people don’t agree with the way we are handling this, but we feel it is the best way at this time. We know how my parents think and so far have been ahead of their games, remained safe and in control, and have support. Those issues alone are so very important. Had we suddenly ended contact it would have created far more complicated problems. Situations are different and this is working best for our situation.

This is the email we received last weekend:

> To: “Lisa”
> Sent: Sunday, February 27, 2011 1:17:32 PM
> Subject: VISITATION RIGHTS
>
>
> As grandparents, we hereby insist that you pick a day, Saturday or Sunday, between now and March 31st, to allow us to visit with your family.  If you’re lucky, we may bring a ‘token’ for you, as a recognition of your birth.
>
> Please consider, and reply at your earliest.
>
> Dad

My response:

> April 3rd or April 10th is best for us. No need to bring a ‘token’ for anything, we’re fine.

And then:

>Hi honey,

>We will see you on April 3rd, what time is good for you? We will not bring any ‘token’, we are just bringing the birthday presents we got you, so if you do not get a card on your birthday, please do not think we forgot. We would not forget your birthday Let us know a good time.>Love you, Mom

I don’t acknowledge my parent’s birthdays and my mom recently had one. That’s what her condescending little jab is about. The subject “VISITATION RIGHTS” is a pseudo-legal threat from them. Writing the words out is supposed to slip into my subconscious and bend me to their will. I’m serious. That’s how they think. As if they’re spies or something.

My therapist agrees with our approach and the way I am keeping boundaries and control.

An important realization over the past week is the fact that my parents gaslighted me. By constantly telling me, as well as family and friends, I am a liar and a faker and threatening me besides made it impossible to accept the belief in my own existence. If what I went through happened, and yet I’m being barraged with “You’re always making things up.”, “You never tell the truth.”, “No one can ever trust what you say.”, “Stop faking it. You’re not really hurt.”, it’s no surprise I can’t tell what is real. One incident in particular stands out. My parents took the day off work to meet with my 2nd grade teacher and tell her how I constantly lie, so anything I may have told her is unbelieveable. I don’t remember what I told my teacher, just the meeting. Accepting this truth also brought with it sensations of being choked and dry heaves. No anxiety though, and only a single thought of self-harming.

No one else in my life has not believed me or told me to shut up and stop lying. No one else has questioned what I believed happened in any circumstance. My parents constantly played these head games to the point where I question my own exsitence.

It is such a relief to understand this. I feel like “Yay! I’m not totally nuts, just broken!”. Broken I think I can work with. Being insane means “Why bother?” to me.

For the most part, life sucks, but it’s workable. I’m not in my happy space yet and these understandings and other crap are extremely tiring. I don’t know if this is a good post, but I am curious if anyone else went through something similar with their parents. I am also very nervous about what the next phase of healing will be like. Today I feel like I took a big step forward and banished some of my negative ways of thinking. Ways of thinking that were not even mine to begin with.

 

Febuary 9th Was a Long Day

February 10, 2011

Step 1. Ask therapist to PROMISE not to get mad at you before you even sit on the floor.

Step 2. Hand her suicide kit containing 40-50 narcotic pain killers, X-Acto knife, and alcohol pads along with note for her that reads “I’m really, really, really sorry”, etc., and expresses urge to self-harm while she watches.

Step 3. Let it all fall out. Don’t think about anything. Just let it fall, fall, fall, fall out.

Step 4. Buy a Caramel Mocha at McDonald’s, after she feels you can drive, with the window down, so that freezing cold keeps you aware all the way home.

Step 5. Don’t stop at the grocery store. That is a bad idea.