Sundays are a Trigger

I have until July 1st to see my therapist so time is precious. She told me a story about how when you talk about old wounds in a safe place and work through them & the emotions it brings to you- you are cleaning your abscess.

Abscesses are wounds within the skin full of pus and without proper treatment, they grow inside you destroying more flesh and causing more pain. But when an abscess is treated, the doctor has to go in and remove all the toxins, pus, dead flesh and clean the wound. That leaves you with a huge, tender opened hole.

Sundays feel like that to me. I had to go to church every sunday and put a smile on my face. I had to hide the abuse, go through the ritual of sunday morning church, worship, tithe, notes, prayer, communion and more.

Now since my abscess has been cleaned out and I have cut out the poison in my life- I had a huge triggers aka open holes when it comes to my Christian beliefs, sundays, prayer and worship. You would think that once you deal with pain and the emotional turmoil that you get better and feel better. My reality is I actually trigger easier, have migraines, I get so mentally exhausted and my nightmares are worse/more frequent.

I confronted my therapist about this. I am so puzzled as to why I FEEL more things. I used to just be numb and stuff things down inside of me. Now I am feeling every emotion all at once sometimes. With her soft smile and warm eyes she told me that she is proud of me.

I had to check me ears. Excuse me? You said you are proud of me? Have you been listening to the stories I have just been telling you? I feel worse! I trigger more easily and I am so exhausted anymore. How can you be proud of me when I feel so horrible, overwhelmed and just guilty for not being able to even say a full prayer for more than 10 seconds?!

My therapist simply smiled at me again. “Have you felt the need to self harm?” I looked at her blankly for a second. I answered no and that kind of surprised myself actually. I always turn to self harm when  I get overwhelmed and I hadn’t thought about that once recently when it used to be an everyday thought. She told me it is because I am allowing myself to feel my emotions and go through it.

It is like the default way I deal with things is to cut and stuff. Since I have turned away from those as a natural response- I am now no longer numb, depressed and stuffing. I am feeling, vulnerable, experiencing and dealing. That is why she is proud of me. Realizing that- I am proud of myself. It takes hard work to be in this place. It takes even harder work to allow yourself to feel.

I just can’t wait until my open sore is healed for good.

My Current Playlist

I wanted to share my playlist with you. I have been honest with myself this past week about the relationships I need and the relationships I don’t. There has been a lot of mixed emotions from empowerment to “what in the heck am I doing?” moments. I am so much stronger now than I have ever been.

What has been helping me stay strong is I put together a playlist that talks about the way I have been treated or felt all my life. There is a mix of genres because I like all music. It took me a couple days to put this together, it is 20 songs and I am in total love with it.

I have not been able to work out at all because of my abuse when I was younger but with this playlist- I just might be able to one day. Okay- so enough chatting- here is the list. Enjoy! & Let me know what you think below. Plus let me know what songs help you out when you are having a difficult time staying strong.

I titled the playlist- Stronger

  • 1 Fighter by Christina Aguilera
  • 2 Just Like You by Three Days Grace
  • 3 Mean by Taylor Swift
  • 4 It’s Been Awhile by Staind
  • 5 Breakdown by Seether
  • 6 Brave by Sara Bareilles
  • 7 Mean Girls by Rachel Crow
  • 8 Freckles by Natasha Bedingfield
  • 9 Breakaway by Kelly Clarkson
  • 10 Wide Awake by Katy Perry
  • 11 Roar by Katy Perry
  • 12 Country Strong by Gwyneth Paltrow
  • 13 I Don’t Want to Be by Gavin DeGraw
  • 14 What It’s Like by Everlast
  • 15 Call Me When You’re Sober by Evanescence
  • 16 Not Afraid by Eminem
  • 17 Liar Liar by Christina Grimmie
  • 18 King of Thieves by Christina Grimmie
  • 19 Not Fragile by Christina Grimmie
  • 20 Cries in Vain by Bullet For My Valentine

It’s just under 80 minutes and I love every single song on here. So if you are a sufferer of abuse, you get all the blame shifted to you, been bullied, being left alone, depression, self harm or suicidal- one of these songs just might help you. 🙂

No Longer Silenced

Therapy was a break through for me and so was yesterday. I think it just all clicked in my brain. I know I still have a journey ahead but I am making some huge steps. I have ALWAYS feared my m. whether I would like to admit it or not- I did. I would fear she would take my sisters away for good, I would fear of disappointing her, I would fear of the degrading letters and emails she would send. I would fear I wouldn’t measure up, gaining too much weight, not pursuing the career she approved of, not living the life she approved of. But mostly I was fearful of losing my sisters.

My therapist sat back after she heard some more stories I shared with her. Just to hit on briefly about how I cannot go into a church sometimes and sit through a service without triggers. I can’t see families together because mine isn’t. I can’t hear the familiar Bible stories or verses because it’s pounded into my head. It brings back painful memories of childhood. Not only would memories verses be plastered all over the walls in her house but she would play a tape for us of the Bible at night that we would have to listen to to fall asleep. We’d move from church to church, lesson after lesson, daily readings of the Bible together. Memory verse contests, home schooled teachings of the Bible, video tapes of the Bible would sometimes be the only thing I would be allowed to watch. IT was horrendous. Everything was pounded into us & shoved down our throats. There was never a choice involved- it was forced fed.

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A couple of the most prominent verses are “Children obey your parents in everything, for this pleases the Lord.” Colossians 3:20. I didn’t EVEN HAVE TO LOOK THAT UP! I knew it by heart. This one I did have to look up, Ephesians 6:2-3, 2“Honor your father and mother” (this is the first commandment with a promise), 3 “that it may go well with you and that you may live long in the land.”

Those two verses are seriously the first two you learn growing up in that house. I lived there til I was 14 and had to visit there until I was 17-18, so I saw my little sisters and how they were raised. If they didn’t comply, they weren’t spanked- they were literally beaten until they stopped. Not just 1 smack with discipline- it was smack, smack, smack smack smack!

I brought a letter my m. sent to me on my birthday so my therapist could see it. She was astonished. This card didn’t look like a birthday card and it was a blank card originally. It wasn’t signed by the whole family, (I got nothing from my sisters but a group voicemail), it was just signed by m. But it was written in to the max of just Bible verses about love. Make me puke! My therapist had then told me that I have been severely Spiritually Abused by her.

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She picked up the card and said, “How many more times do you want to go through this?” That didn’t really sink in until the next day to be honest. But what she said next hurt so bad I couldn’t believe she said it. She said, “You already do not have a relationship with your sisters. You are not in their lives.” I got a lump in my throat and my eyes started to burn. I had never heard that or thought of that. I told her how much that statement hurt but I couldn’t repeat it. So she said it again. I flustered and started crying. “It hurts you because deep down, you know it’s true.”

It is true. All this time I had been fearing the most damaging thing my m. could do to me and she has already done it. My therapist let that soak for a minute and then began to comfort me by saying another truth. “You don’t have one now, but you will have an opportunity. They will come to you whether they are 18 or older, and your mother will no longer have control over them legally. And ya know what, I am so proud of you for actually being able to even attend church with how much you have been through. You may not be able to go when you have triggers but you need to learn to separate the difference between your abuse and what it’s like to have faith.”

The next morning I sat up a Googled Spiritual Abuse. I found this really good article/site that talks about how God doesn’t approve of spiritual abuse. Matthew 18:6, “If anyone causes one of these little ones–those who believe in me–to stumble, it would be better for them to have a large millstone hung around their neck and to be drowned in the depths of the sea.”

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That is the EXACT moment of when it all clicked in my head. The reason why I never ever could really go against my m. or step dad fully was because of the guilt of disobeying God. I had to honor them, and obey them in everything. That meant eat what I was told to eat, sit when they said sit and be who they said be. It all makes complete sense to me now. Thinking on this is actually comical to me now, how easy it was to fool me. I can see it plain as day. And now I know God is not thrilled about this at all! It is not my fault, I was a little one she caused to stumble. She is control and power hungry. She twists the words of God to benefit her. And it is better for her to drown in the sea.

Once I was able to see all that so clearly- I felt God stand behind me and empower me to do what I did next. My therapist recommended that I speak up. I kinda shook at the thought because I didn’t want to, I couldn’t imagine doing that. She asked why. I responded, “because I don’t want to stir up the hornet’s nest.” She asked why again. I couldn’t come up with an answer. Fear. Fear of what? My sisters are already taken from me. It was because back to that key thought, “well if I do that, I am not honoring my mother and father, I am rebellious, ungrateful, horrible daughter….” THOSE aren’t my words- that’s what I’ve “been trained” to think.

So next, I went onto Facebook. I made a status talking about how I do not want a relationship with my m., I have never had one with her. (I don’t ever call her mother, I call her by her real name) How it breaks my heart I have to have pre approval to be able to see my own sisters. And that I am not going to stroke her ego to just maybe be able to see my sisters. How my m. uninvited me to this past christmas, how I never hear from her for months at a time and I want nothing to do with her. I am done being silent.

Now my m. doesn’t have facebook but my aunts, uncles, cousins and friends do. I didn’t post it to be mean or to get back at her. I posted it to let everyone know what they have always assumed. I then later posted another status saying that no one has to choose sides mine or hers. And that if you have a relationship with her you will still be able to have one with me. Also that I will never talk about situations about her unless that person asks- then I will answer.

I got a lot of support from my friends and family surprisingly enough. But the family that is related to both of us pretty much stayed out of it. Except a couple people who said “it takes two”- meaning I am at fault too. Well, I am not and some of my friends stood up to them for me, which was nice.  I didn’t expect to “start a war”, I am just letting people know I’m not faking a relationship with my abusive m. anymore. Then that is when my therapist’s question that lingered in my head was answered, How much more are you going to take of this?.     None.

 

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The Words that Heal

Last time I visited my therapist she said to think up of an action plan of what to do when I feel overwhelmed. I have been drawing a blank these past couple weeks and I couldn’t figure out anything. I saw this post on Yahoo the other day that talked about an Anger Box for newlyweds.

You get a box, you and your husband write love letters to each other  whenever you want and however many times you want. Fill up the box and then shut it. Then whenever you feel like giving up/calling it quits or get so mad at each other -you will open up that box and read your love letter written to you by your spouse. It helps remind you what it is truly all about.

I do have a blessings box. That is when I write about blessings God has provided for me so I do not forget about him. I have kinda slacked off/not being noticing the blessings during my “haze”. And like my last entry (speaking in quotes) sometimes I just don’t want anything to do with God because of my abusive triggers.

My task today besides cleaning the house and going to therapy will be to get these boxes together and start writing some letters. I might write on the outside what it will help for. So for example I will write a letter that will explain how life is so beautiful and all my plans if I become suicidal. Also my husband’s letters will help remind me how much I mean to him and that will help.

Another one is if I feel so overwhelmed by sharing living space with others- I will write a letter about how much of a blessing they are. Or if I can’t stand to read a scripture because of a trigger- I will read a letter I wrote to God. I struggle with seeking attention to wanting to be covered like a nun. I also struggle with extreme anxiety, nightmares, fantasies, anger, depression, self-esteem, using food as my comfort, exercise abuse triggers, anti social behavior and more.

I haven’t developed anything else for that action plan but I know this will help. I am excited to start this journey of helping myself heal. I might even put a couple letters I write to myself on here to share. I have a lot of work to do. 🙂

 

Speaking in Quotes

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I love getting birthday cards, emails and letters from family members around my birthday. It is so enlightening and I feel so loved when that happens. But there is one person who always sends me cards or emails that all she does is speak in quotes from the bible.

This makes my insides want to puke. I myself have a very hard time with my relationship with Christ as it is. Sometimes I can’t even sit in a church that I love because the triggers are so bad. Here recently since my birthday I haven’t been able to bring myself to do my daily devotions or prayers.

On one of my birthdays a couple years ago I got a card that said,”Thank God you are alive one more year to serve him.” And that was it. Nothing else was said. No “I love you” “I miss you” “Happy Birthday” “You mean so much to me”…. it hurt. I was shocked.

I still can’t even bring myself fully think about it but this most recent birthday and card was the same. The card was blank on the inside and my m. wrote in it from cover to cover. All the words that were in it were just quotes from the bible. It breaks my heart.

How in the world can I get over it? I mean I know to not expose myself to it but what about the times I can’t help? She is my mother, which means family. I don’t want to cut myself off from everyone of my family members on her side just to avoid her. I know I need to be stronger and I want to get there.

Honestly, sometimes I really don’t even like to think about being a Christian. I know being a Christian is to be loving, sweet, forgiving and to be kind. But the home I grew up in it was manipulative, judging, rules, harshness, grudges, discipline, abuse- nothing about love and forgiveness. And that is what I think about at first. I really hope God understands. I don’t want to be like this. This is probably one of the worst triggers I have currently.

Cornered

It has been a couple days since my last post and I have calmed down. I wouldn’t say it is because I know how to calm myself down or that I dealt with the emotions… but that just enough time has passed for me to be able to stuff it down inside again.

Yesterday at work after we closed, we do a walk through of the store to make sure everyone is out and that is looks nice for the next day. There is a section in the back room where there are rows and rows of stock that lead to a dead end. As I was walking down this section alone, I realized that I started to have an anxiety attack. The one thing I hate more then anything is not only having the sense of fear or panic, but in public where I have to try and hide it.dead-end-street

I kept walking down and noticed that the walls were concrete so if I needed to escape this dead end I couldn’t. I was trapped. Once this thought entered my mind I decided I will never walk all the way down to the end again. I will never go down that aisle and be trapped with no escape. As I kept walking my anxiety and panic were at its’ peak when I was at the end of aisle. When I was walking away from the dead end my anxiety lessened.

I have come to the conclusion, that should of be so obvious to me before, but I hate being cornered. My sexual molestation when I was six happened because I physically put into a corner. My rape happened when I was “cornered” into a car without escape. Just even thinking about that dead end corner makes my chest tighten.

I apologize but this is where this entry has to stop. I cannot write any further due to my anxiety right now. I wish and hope one day I will be strong enough to speak more.

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Haze

It’s been two weeks since I have last blogged. I want to avoid certain topics. I can feel myself start to zone out. It is like a haze over a pond early in the sunrise. Gradual, silent and lingering. I just want to disappear. I have not been able to go to counseling for 3 weeks now. Not because of my choice but because she has been unavailable or sick.

Of course realistically I do not blame her, but in the hazey fog- it’s all her fault and I want to quit. Why do I depend so much on other people to make me feel better when they just let me down? The past couple weeks have been huge triggers, an episode of self harm, brutal nightmares, panic and anxiety attacks so bad I have to leave certain buildings, I am not only thinking about a world without me but how to commit suicide.

My life honestly in “real eyes” is not that bad at all. I actually have it fairly easy right now but on the inside I am screaming. My eyes lust for my own blood, my brain thinks any man will hurt me, my body shakes and cringes because I feel like I am about to pounced upon. My hands scratch and pull at my own disgusting fat body. I cry hot tears, my chest gets these sharp knife like stabbing pains ever so often that bring me to my knees and then I go numb.

I enter in the haze. It is not a daydream, it is not a sleep, it is not anything. It just is numb. I need her help and for 3 weeks I have been stuck in this haze longing to get out.

 

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The Changed Dream

I nudged my husband as I woke up in an internal panic. I just had another rape dream. The fear feels so real- that scares me more than anything else. Here I am up at 4am- (the time is always wrong when my posts are published) blogging about it to hopefully “deal” with it effectively. I want to let myself experience it instead of blocking it out.

This dream was different from all the others. I have never had deception. When I do have dreams about rape they are very violent and already in the process of happening when my dreaming begins. I am forced to do things and endure things and the situation, people, setting and abuse always changes.

In this dream I was outside & behind of the building where I go for counseling. There was a TV on at the edge of the sidewalk, it was displaying some movie (kinda like Wal-Mart TVs in the Entertainment Department). When I started to watch it no one was around or parked near me. I remember smiling at the TV and enjoying myself. I can’t remember what was on that I liked so much. After a couple minutes of watching the TV, something had caught my eye.

The way the back of the building is setup in my dream is that a sidewalk wraps all the way around the building. There is also a wrap around parking lot that is fenced in by concrete on both sides. Behind the building and past the parking lot there is an exit road that will lead into a neighborhood. The building is in the middle of downtown. The only way cars can park is along each side of the building facing away from the sidewalk near the concrete walls. There wasn’t any car parked directly behind the building because it was an open lot leading to dumpsters, other houses and the exit road.

I noticed to my left that there was a maroon Chevy Silverado (1994 model) parked beside the side walk on the other side. It was the only car parked on that side of the building and in that manner. It was very odd. I walk along the sidewalk and notice a young man talking with a woman. She was now walking away from him and up towards the front of the building out of sight. I didn’t get to see her face or hear what they were talking about. I stopped at the corner of the sidewalk about 12-15 feet away from him when he noticed me.

He turned to look at me. His hair was thick, black and combed back. He was dressed well, blue jeans and a tan/brown jacket. His glasses were a bit bigger then his face. The young man’s demeanor was unconfident. He nervously fidgeted as soon as he looked at me. It was almost as if females noticing him made him uncomfortable. He behaved and spoke in a way that would be classified as “nerdy”.

I offered him some friendly advice and told him he couldn’t park his truck like that- along the sidewalk. His truck was dusty but I couldn’t see inside it. After I politely informed him of his parking, he started walking towards me. His voice was shaky, nervous and a bit “high” all in which did not seem threatening. He wasn’t that close to me when he told me why he was parked like that.

“You see,” he began to explain. “I like to come back here from time to time to make sure everything is okay. I was just helping my aunt out.” I nodded my head, believing his “Good Samaritan” behavior. His shoulders were slumped and his smile was awkward and gaudy. He stopped walking because I was now walking away from him towards the exit road. I smiled at him but regretted getting attention from this awkward guy. I don’t know exactly why at this point- I honestly thought in my dream he was that guy that wouldn’t get the picture that you weren’t “into him”. Kinda like Steve with Laura Winslow on the show Family Matters.

I continued walking slowly away from him when I heard him say one last thing. “You know there was been a lot of crime on women here.” I stopped and looked at him. My eyes met his and my chest got tight again. The pause seemed like minutes. He un-slumped his shoulders showing off his muscular build and his eyes went from harmless to predator. I looked him in the eyes and then my eyes went to his pants. I knew in that moment he wasn’t a “Good Samaritan”- he wanted to rape me and he was going to get me.

He knew that I knew that’s what he wanted. I nervously smiled at him and began to walk faster. He did as well. I tucked my hair behind my ears and started to jog. He jogged too. Then I knew I for sure he wanted me. His pace quickened again. It became an all out sprint as he came for me faster and faster. My heart raced, my legs moved, my mind panicked. He was going to force himself on me once he caught me. I could feel his hands already on me as I ran.

 

I woke up. When I woke up I had fear in my mind but intense pleasure vibrations in my body. That doesn’t make any sense to me to be mentally terrified but yet physically yearning? As a laid there half asleep- all different kinds of scenarios went rushing through my head. They were of him catching me, ripping my clothes off, stabbing me, beating me and forcing me. I remember his small tattoo on the inside of his groin. I imagined being left for dead.

The most interesting part was what happened next. All the abuse was in flashes, my awake mind was making up the possibilities. But in the midst of all the trauma it was all completely wiped from my mind. I was back into my dream. I was running away from him- where I had been left before the flashes started. I was running fast but he was closing the distance on me. I just needed to run to the exit road and down to the neighborhood.

I finally got there and instead of him grabbing me at the road- he was grabbed. He was rushed in by multiple police and hand cuffed. I have never ever been able to alter a dream but in this one  I did. I took the power back. I was in control. After he was cuffed the police thanked me for my work and that they had been working to catch this guy after multiple women came forward explaining who their rapist was and how he deceived them. I was happy to help and I smiled as I saw the guy get taken away in the cop car.

*                       *                        *

When I nudged my husband- I wanted to feel safe. He put his arms around me and that helped. The actual thought of physical abuse and violence didn’t bother me. What traumatized me was the deception. Even though it was all a dream/nightmare- I will never forget the eyes that went from harmless to predator in an instant. The deception is what paralyzes me.

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To the One Who Wears the Mask

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I know you.

I am apart of you.

When the fogginess of wanting to be accepted by you has cleared- I am left with heartache. My heart does not ache for myself or my own pain but for the mask wearer. I know if you probably read this it wouldn’t even sink in. You are too far gone in your mask.

I feel your pain and the heaviness of the mask. I didn’t know you as a little child but you went through some traumas of your own. Being the first child- did you have anyone to lean on? Did you create the mask as a little child to fool people that hurt you?

I can see how a mask can be empowering and an escape to a little child when the home is turmoil and unstable. It was like a breath of fresh air. Something you could control and focus your energy into. You can be anyone you want to be in your mask. No one has to know who you really are or what your life is really like. I can understand your mind was just trying to protect its self. I told you- I know you. I am apart of you.

At first the mask was a protection tool and an escape. Over time it became your face, your safe haven, your “go to” and as time went on- you took the mask off less and less. Why would you need to take it off? It would only show the hurt, the pain, the abandonment, the broken home and the abuse. You like the mask better- anyone would.

You have a huge hole in your heart and this mask fills it for you. You rid yourself of the liability of feeling guilt because guilt and shame were thrown at you as a child constantly. You witness first hand how manipulation can get you things that you want so you developed the tool.

As a little girl when you tried to emotionally latch on you were rejected, hurt and abused. You stripped yourself from viewing people as people and only as objects. Looking at a person as an object means they cannot hurt you and you don’t have to be emotionally bound to them.

The mask provides you with just seeing their uses and how they can benefit your mask further. I compare it to sex “without the strings” of the relationship. You view, collect and pick people for their uses and benefits “without the strings” of emotional attachment.

And of course how can a mask be fun if it doesn’t make you feel better? Want to be sexier? Smart? Desirable? Smooth? Charming? You as time went on made the mask so incredibly pretty. You softened the edges so “the objects” can’t find the seam-line. Your mask is slowly latching onto your face but what you have created makes you feel so good.

Let me illuminate something for you before think your mask can save you. Have you ever thought about the side effects of wearing a mask for so long? It gets hot, stuffy, suffocating and sometimes it actually sticks to your face. Your mask helped you as a child deal with your emotions and help defuse the situation but now it is apart of you.  You can’t get it off or change it nor do you want to because you are still that scared little girl behind the mask.

The mask has its own mind now. Its own wants and needs and you must fill it at any cost or it’ll start to crack. And the “objects” will see. The mask that used to be a breath of fresh air is now a parasitic leech. You and your mind have no idea about this. You cannot see the damage it is causing you because you have wiped away the feeling of remorse or guilt. You do not care in your mask. You just want it your way and to feel good about yourself.

The horrible side effect of your mask has made you callous and shallow. Can anyone ever truly smile in a mask? No. No one can see your real smile and the mask won’t let you- even if you knew how to smile. You mimic what you have seen over the years because you, yourself did not let yourself experience or deal with emotions. Your brain never made the connection as a small child.

Your escape has now become your prison. I told you- I know you. I am apart of you.

One night, after I cut my legs so deeply my dad and step mom found me outside. They helped me into the bathroom and washed away all the blood. It was such a humbling, loving experience- I couldn’t help but cry. They were cleaning the cuts I made because I hated myself so much.

I wish I could provide you with that kind of support, love and understanding. They didn’t hate me or get mad at me for what I did. They were just there to surround me with love. I wish I could peel back the mask piece by piece and save you. I would do it in a heartbeat for you. I wouldn’t hate you, judge you, leave you or whatever else you might think- I want to just surround you with love and help you.

This is how much I love you.

My heartaches for you because I know the little girl is stuck behind the mask still reliving all the trauma and pain. I just want her to come out and heal. I want her to experience life in the way it is meant to be, to truly love and to be loved. I don’t want you to drown in your own sorrow and pain. I don’t want you to be cut off from family and friends. I don’t want you to be imprisoned by your own mask- I want you to just be free.

This is how much I love you.

Little Poison Stings

I went to my 2nd therapy session yesterday nervous, anxious and excited. I love going to therapy because I love reflecting on questions that challenge me. I also am nervous about what will be talked about because I have noticed therapy can be a trigger. I would rather bury all the memories and emotions then go through them one by one. I worry about how I will feel afterwards. Will have nightmares, will I be too irritable or be trigger to self harm? Yesterday’s session was really good. No nightmares, not a lot of irritability and no self harming. 🙂

We are going through the initial paperwork so my therapist/counselor can get an idea of what I have been through and possible treatment plans. I do have to say my anxiety doesn’t feel like it is flowing over the top all the time anymore. It is only unbearable when a trigger has been flipped in my mind. I am trying to rely on God more and focus on what to be thankful for. I am also walking our dogs around where we live to get my mind off of things and to exercise but not to do it alone. If I were to exercise alone- that would be a trigger.

This blog is helping me a lot. I have been able to channel what I want to say publicly without having the consequences of unmasking my identity.Plus I have the freedom to write about whatever I want. In my previous blog I titled it The Broken Record because with my m.’s actions it feels that way BUT I also feel like a broken record. For years I have spoke on and explained things that have happened in my life. My loop of emotions and what I feel I must talk about. I keep talking and feeling the same things. I am stuck in a sand hole without a way to climb out.

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During my 1 hour session I gave the counselor some emails that have really hurt me from my m. one from Easter which I talk about in The Broken Record, and also one that uninvited me from this past Christmas. She told me she was able to see how my m. sends and uses her poison. The empathy I see in my counselor’s face as she reads the emails is so comforting. I’m not used to people “getting it” or understanding my side or feelings at all. I am used to family scolding me for my feelings and denying they are real.

I received a phone call before Easter from a family member who didn’t like what I would say about my m. I tried to confide in her about my emotions and tell her the stories. Instead, the family member viewed it as if I was hating on someone that was so nice, sweet and someone she really looked up to. Well she called me this past weekend and apologized for everything. Which is HUGE! My heart was so overjoyed with this news. Not only did she apologize but she said that she can understand/see how I feel.

She is a very sweet hearted woman and wouldn’t go into too much detail after that. With her phone conversation I realized something very important. The relationship I build with her, my sisters, and other family members from that side do not need to be pulled into the middle of this. But rather be loved, and cherish and build a relationship with them. I don’t need to prove that my trauma was real to anyone.

All my life I have tried to latch on to family members from that side to “open their eyes” about my m. To try and get some conformation that I wasn’t crazy and to tell them everything that happened behind closed doors. I even wrote a 1/2 of a journal writing examples to my sisters to give to them one day but now I realize that was all in vain. I need to build the relationship with others for what it is and not use them to make myself feel better. My intentions are good but that would place anyone in an awkward position.

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Enough is enough. I am not longer giving my m. the dominating control of my life. I no longer speaking about it to other family members. I am no longer going to harbor or stuff my emotions down. I am going to deal with it privately and get better. I am deleting the emotional control she has over me.

My counselor said that her emails are the way she injects a little poison at a time in me. It is one avenue she has control over me. I no longer respond to her emails because it is a worthless fight. She doesn’t comprehend or care about what she does to me. The counselor asked me what would happen if I were to block her emails. I just sat there wondering, “But what if I miss something that is loving, what if she apologizes, or what if she invites me back in and I miss it?” Without even hearing my thoughts the woman with the clipboard said, “You have to realize every time your m. contacts you- it is poison. Like a little poison injection each and every time she emails you or contacts you. She uses shame, religion, lies and twisting the truth as her manipulation. There are relationships that are good to have in your life, and then there are relationships that are toxic. She is a toxic relationship to you. Every time she contacts you it is toxic.”

For some reason hearing those words gave me clarity. She is totally right. My mother is toxic. And with that being said I have realized that every email ever sent to me is toxic as well. It always hurts. I am hoping for a loving mother to come one day and just sweep me up, owe up to everything she has done and to drop the mask. I am done waiting and I am done with the hurt. I am ready to get and to be better. I moved her email address to spam- so I will not even be notified when she sends me an email. I feel empowered already.