Introduce my Self.... I would if I could but at the age of 58 I have no fucking clue. The scary part is I fear I am too old to do all the work necessary to feel whole. Born into a brutally dis functional unit. I don't see how it/they can be called a family so I will stick with unit. Youngest of the group of four only because apparently during my birth I destroyed her womb. The way I see it is, someone had to put a stop to that bullshit. Caustic humor there. Horrible, horrible thing to say, I know but if I'm going to be held personally responsible as I was, I figure why fight it? Just agree and come up with a reason why. Never bonded with good old mom since a big part of my care was the responsibility of the eldest child in the unit, my sister who turned 7 years old about 3 1/2 months after I was born. Dad was my hero. Never mind that he would beat us. I say us but I don't remember being beat by my father. I saw him beat my mother and my brother. My mother beat all of us, including the dog if he tried to stop her. The neglect, filth, and the real sense she hated us was always there. It was our fault the house was a roach, flea and who knows what else infested hell. It was our fault she was beat. We were so bad and we never listened. There are a great many blanks growing up. I do remember my father sexually abusing me when I was 13 after my mother left. I finally left right before I turned 15 afraid of getting pregnant and too many broken promises of it never happening again. I told my sister who decided I had to go to my mother. Oh joy. I had my own apartment at 16. There is just way too much for one post. Two brothers between us sisters and we are all fucked up. Our children are damaged.
I was the only one who ever went into therapy. In between drinking, smoking weed and the easy to get drug of that era, the diet pill. All that I grew up around except for the weed. Mom had pills to sleep , wake up and the nerve pills. No computers. She had several doctors and pharmacies, if she even needed one since the doctors often poured them from the big brown bottle right into the envelope. No counting.
I had other rapes. I was drawn to abusive relationships and I had three children. I decided I was going to be the one to break the cycle of abuse. I would not abuse my children like I was abused!
Maybe I didn't but they suffered. My two youngest children's father, I was with for 20 years. He didn't try to beat me to death, didn't beat me at all. He worked hard, 6 days a week 10-12 hours a day. I had a winner folks. That a meagerly amount of his pay went to the care of his now family was my fault. I should work and contribute. Doesn't he pay the rent, gas blah blah. That I had to steal money from him while he slept to get pampers did not seem terrible to me. That he told me so often that I was fucking totally worthless, I not only agreed but was jealous because at least he could leave and go to work. I was stuck with me and I said so. It's all too much to cover. In and out of mental hospitals. Poor mans vacation was what one patient called it.
In the 90s I really tried to do some inner work but that led to some writings to and conversations with myself that I now know as discociated "parts" . That kind of spooked me and interested me and was not the first time I was aware of somethings going on inside I was and am still not totally aware of.
Ready for some good news? There is some.
My last attempt of trying to stop wasting space on earth led me to what was for me a series of angelic helping hands in the form of people. The God of my current understanding because it changes. Is all loving energy. I say it changes because I change and the more I understand me, the more I understand God.
I had gotten my GED decades before. I never told anyone. What was there to tell? I went took the test and I passed. I passed by the skin of my teeth and no big deal. It did allow me with the help of my angels get into college and I went to all kinds of therapy. Individual, group, and even a year long program especially designed for women who survived. I loved school and it was hard work. I had a school "counselor" when I was in the 9th grade tell me I had missed no less than 50 days a year since the first grade. I was wasting taxpayers money and I should just quit. So I did.
Now here I was going to college in my forties. Another angel. I was hired as a student for the summer at a government job. My daughter had already asked if she could move in with my niece and with my first paycheck, I moved out. I didn't know if I would end up on the street which was why I agreed to my daughter living with my niece. Too many things for one post. My sons were already on their own. I worked hard and one summer turned into two years before I was brought on board permanently. I was written up in two psycho babble magazine/brochures as a success of the mental health system and a shing example of how well it works. I met a man and fell in love and he treated me with respect and kindness. He went with me when along with two other people I attended a 3 day paid seminar/conference at a prestigious college psycho babble conference as shining examples how well the current psychology system works great.
I moved up in the job, my love and I traveled, he was professor Higgins and I was a happy Eliza. It was a good run. I was even repairing my relationships with my children. The only thing that actually stuck thank you God. So far anyway since we never know what life will bring. My love and I got married after 4 years. Shortly after he retired and started getting depressed. My advancement at work now required me moving to another city. Then he got more depressed and my new promotion was ... For me toxic. I was back home with the unit. Only I didn't realize it. You see the problem with having a good run is you forget. At least I did. Hubby getting more and more depressed. I was the scapegoat at the job.
A year and a half in the new spot and my once shining knight was no longer the man I feel in love with. Then, he died.
Too much for one post.
I wind up in a partial hospitalization program. For the first time I did my own research on PTSD. I had been diagnosed repeatedly since I was 22 and it was never explained to me nor did I ask. More than anything it's an illness of denial. I work on CBT, DBT (Marsha I love your message but your presentation needs some zippidy do dah) I know because I paid for and downloaded all her videos. Most of all I practiced mindfulness and grounding. Oh I was an A student again the shining example saying and doing all the right things. I did some hard work. Then I cracked. Dissociation, panic attacks and I handled it. Even when "they" all started talking to me, in me, gotta be clear about that and I listened and I talked back. Mostly children, and some others who had their own role. Too much for one post.
Then I said to my therapist what I didn't know I shouldn't say. I am pretty sure I have dissociative disorder, no no I don't have blackouts. No, I don't end up in places and not know how I got there. Though sometimes I am on the block where I live and for a few moments panic because I don't know where I am but I've always been weird like that. No sense of direction. I always joked, I get lost going to the bathroom.
No, I can't call someone out. It doesn't work that way. I don't know how I KNOW but I can tell you it has to do with building trust and validation. I was "graduating" the program at this point.
New therapist upstairs. Now I know this kid can't help me she is too busy pulling anxiously at her Freda Kahlo eyebrows and can only tell me to write positive statements on post its and stick them all around my apartment. There were others but they couldn't seem to grasp what I was saying. I even explained to them there was a test that could show where I placed on the dissociative spectrum. They had no idea what I was talking about and not one looked into the testing. Valium yes, Paxil of course and let's toss in some adderol for old times sake. No test though.
I'm at a different workplace but it was also a bit of a demotion. The inner conversations quieted but the children are there and I can't abandon them. I've abandoned myself for 58 years. Only I can save myself.
So Rich, I am curious what you think of this .... splintering of self to absorb what as a child I could not comprehend yet as an aware adult have a responsibility to releave them of their secret keeping burden. I'm not crazy okay yes I am but I'm okay with it. I do know I can't do the work alone. I also know good trauma therapists, All booked baby! So you see why I am afraid of never being whole..