The Last 3 days....

...and then some have been incredible hard.
...as in gut wrenching hard.

I'm struggling to keep my head above water.
To find balance among the waves.
I know that I'm not alone in this struggle.
Yet at the same time it feels as though I am.
I've pulled out all the tools.  All the stops.
Everything I can to keep swimming.
It hasn't been enough.

My hair hurts.
My teeth hurt.
My ears hurt.
My toes hurt.
Everything hurts.
I know why.
Relaxation tools have went out the window. I've done them.
Over and over...from deep breathing to some mindfulness.

I'm not positive tonight. I don't see much positive ahead of me.  I got up today. I went to church.  I made a crockpot dinner.  It is the extent of my ability to cope for today.

Dear Asshole (Part 1)

**I tried to keep this short. For my own sanity. This is a FAIR WARNING there is very likely going to be several explicits. It is what it is. It is where my heart and head is with this.  This is just the beginning of a series of "Dear Asshole" posts.  More will come as I'm able to process.  Each time I've ever started to write something similar to this I've ended in a pretty rough space.  Never got past the first few sentences and ended up in fetal position on my bathroom floor/tub for heaven only knows how long afterwards.

As the title states: Dear Asshole.  He is just that. An asshole.  And so much more.  As mentioned above it is likely these will not be pretty.  

Dear Asshole,
You may have been excited to see this letter from me since we've not had contact in over 30 years.  What pictures and information you have from me you received from your mother.  Good for her for caring.
I didn't want to write this when I was overly angry, emotional, or depressed.  However, those 3 words seem to be part of my every day life. And have been for several months.

This last bought of severe depression was not triggered by the trauma piece you help create. It is very likely it was just part of much more going on.  Each time I get closer to rising above the fog this particular piece begins to boil over. Causing there to be a ripple effect into my everyday life. You destroyed me in more ways than not.

I spent years trying to figure out reasoning's for your actions.  I've spent countless hours talking to other victims. I've spent countless hours reading and trying to sift to the bottom of why abusers abuse.  The more information I have found, the worse I've felt abut the situation.  They say that abusers have the domino effect.  The abuser was once abused.  That's bullshit.  I'm nearly certain that never happened to you.  Next option?  You strive to dominate.  That is exactly what you did.  When you could no longer hurt my mother, you choose to hurt me.  Fuck you!  You rat bastard.

I hope you woke up each day of the last 33 yrs of your life and took a good look at your shit-filled self and were eaten alive by what you did to me.  I hope you never forgave yourself for it.  I always thought I would be thankful for the day you died.  Each day I got closer and closer.  And the day that I got the phone call was the day when the previous 33 yrs of attempting to stuff deep down came boiling over.  Each day, I prayed for closure that you would die.  Instead, rage took over deep w/in my heart.  Rage that you took the easy way out.  Rage that you didn't suffer.  Sure, I'm sure you suffered.  You have never suffered a moment of the torment that I live each day.  You don't wear the physical and emotional scars that I do.  Those scars that are not seen.  Only heard by the rage that has built within me.

I can only hope hell is as it is chalked up to be!!  There is no amount of repentance that would bring you closer to the pearly gates of heaven. None. I know first hand that in order to cross that gate you would have needed to make amends to those you hurt.

Screw you!
Your Daughter

The Missing Piece

During an appt with H* today some tough stuff came to the surface.  Again.  In the past I've scheduled massage appointments to be back to back or same day as my therapy appointments with J*. Somehow, I need to go back to that routine.  Granted, my appt with H* was a last minute schedule because J* is off for the week.

I've attempted to write the things that were fresh on my mind as I left that appointment.  The body-work that jolted me once again...has left me speechless...once again.  The space that was created by H* to continue moving forward and finding healing was what I needed.

Even though the work was tough.  Even though it has jolted me to my core.  Even though my heart hurts in ways that I can't even begin to describe.  Even though grief on so many levels is raging it's ugly head.  Even though all these things....I still feel desire to keep going back.  One more missing piece that I'm not the only person that knows.  Somehow, having someone else know it takes the power away from it.

Still doesn't make it easier.
Tonight it makes it much tougher.

It's Not Okay. (Part 2)

Last night was a struggle.  It is now nearly 3am and I'm wide awake. Unable to sleep.  My mind is racing.  Fighting the 'why try...just give up and fuck it all' theme that struck me during my appt yesterday morning w/J*.

I'm weary.  On the verge of giving up.  I've driven family and close friends away.  I've never felt more alone than I have the last few weeks.

I want to get past this.  I'm attempting at all cost to use these tools.  To be mindful, to concentrate on my breathing, to use the fucking tools that years of therapy have provided me.   I think about the different tools, more than just safe space stuff, the tools received in the DBT course I've been in.  And, I get even more discouraged. Why am I not strong enough to fight this battle?  What is it that I'm missing?  Something...fucking something...has got to give.  The answers and healing are all within me.  Me..and ONLY me can figure this out.


 I get that.  And yet...at the same time if I truly did get it....I wouldn't still be in therapy.  

When I made several week-to-week appointments with Jodi vs biweekly a few months ago, I decided that this was the time and place...and I was going to do this once and for all.  I knew it would be tough.  But damn it all..I was ready. 


And for a few weeks...I think I did.  
And for the most part....I still do.  I do not for a moment believe Jodi's thoughts that weekly therapy enforces the "I'm sick mindset".  
And I have no problem telling her that.  


The road is a dead end road as I see it.  When the trauma piece is brought into the dynamics of therapy...I don't see myself running the other way.  I think what I'm hearing Jodi say and what she means are 2 different things.  I want and need to be challenged when it comes to this piece of the puzzle. And yet....as I hear her she feels differently.  I get where she is coming from when it comes down to uncovering the layers of trauma and how that effects me.  I hear her and understand her trepidation about going down this path.

I know first-hand what it is like to have a therapist...push to hard, to fast, without laying down some of the ground work.  I also know first-hand....that experience has made it harder for me to trust Jodi and taken several years for the 2 of us to get to this point.

What I heard from her yesterday and what she was trying to get across...I'm certain are separate things.  I think that was obvious by my reactions and inability to not shut down/tune everything out during my appt.  Deep down...depression aside....I don't believe she trusts me in this process.  Which isn't all that surprising.

These are the things that continuously swirl in my head this evening.  The fight with depression still rages on.  It's always going to be there.  How I react to the peeling of each layer will greatly depend on the battle within at that time.

Knots

“If you want to untie a knot,

you must look at the cord carefully

and gently undo the tangle.

Yanking the cord will only

make the knot tighter.”

-Thomas Hanna

I took the above quote off of my massage therapist website.  She has a page about "Untying Knots".  I've read this particular page many times over the last several months.  I speaks volumes to the path that I seem to be on right now.

Not to many days ago as I sat in Jodi's office I couldn't help thinking that I am just done with this path that I'm on.  Whatever it takes to end it. I wanted it done.  I want this knot untied. I want to be rid of the weight it seems to have placed on me.  I want to either tie it all back up and stuff it all back away.  And if I can't do that then yank this crap so it's done and over with.

Clearly those thoughts and way of thinking are not what would be helpful in untying the knots.  These knots are old and fragile.  They've been there for 30+ years.  And yanking on them will only cause more damage.  The logical part of me knows and understands this.  The impatient part of me says...the hell with it..lets just get it done and over with.  It is kind of the same mindset that I have with my shoulder.  Come on already.  Patience and slow are not my best personality trait.

And so, slowly these knots are being untied.

I will attempt to not yank on them.

I will attempt to trust this process of slow and steady.  

The Courage to Heal

Today I opened the book:  "The Courage to Heal:  A Guide for Women Survivors of Child Sexual Abuse" by Ellen Bass & Laura Davis.     !!!!holy hannah intense is an understatement!!!!

I am not naive.  I knew it would be intense.  I knew there would be parts that were tough.  I barely got to the end of the Preface without an overwhelming feeling of panic and fear.  The effects that sexual abuse has had on me in my life....clearly screaming loud and clear.  I have put the book down and walked away on several occasions in the last several hours.  Unable to read any further.  Paralyzed with fear.  It isn't the fear of feeling unsafe, being abused, or feeling vulnerable.  The fear of speaking...breaking the silence...breaking the power that it has had over me.

Over the last several years I've remained in a world of denial, so to speak.  For nearly 35 years I've maintained silence.  If I don't speak about it.  It didn't happen, right?  Not so much.  I've protected myself.  I've been able to only let bits and pieces of this and that out in the open as I felt safe to do so.  I've been unable to figure out how or why there is such power in not speaking about the details.

The writing exercise at the end of the first chapter is geared towards the way it has affected me and still does.  What kinds of things do I still carry in the terms of my feelings of self worth, my relationships, sexuality, work, ect ect.  It also suggests writing about strengths I've developed because of the abuse. And a few other positives in my life.

As part of the writing method it suggests sharing what you write relatively soon after writing it with a friend, loved one, therapist, someone...ect ect.  I've wrote very openly here on this blog.  However, I'm not sure I'm able (or wanting) to expose myself in this manner here on this blog.  I'm struggling with what sort of balance.  Obviously, sharing these writings with my therapist would be helpful.  And I'm sure at some point will.  I also know that J* reads this blog from time to time.  It is helpful for both of us.  She is able to see me in a different view point...often uncensored, so to speak.    I wish this blog was on word press.  Being able to "password protect" certain posts is VERY VERY attractive to me. 

I could make this blog private.  However, I'm not sure that want to deal with that aspect.  I blog for ME and ME only.  However, as I've said before...if along the way someone...somewhere finds strength in what I've wrote, is able to know that they are not alone....then damn it was worth exposing myself.  I know how much comfort I've received from reading other posts of fellow bloggers.  Some whom I know very intimately.  Many whom all I know is their screen name or blogger name.  Whatever it might be...it has been a life line that I am so thankful that I've had.

I've rambled....I know (you read here often you know that happens...OFTEN).

I will end with something that touched my heart today. Made me smile.  Made me think of my sweet ETAAM Soul Sisters....the intimate group of "tiara wearing mamma's" and how much I miss each of them!!