I do not write about my childhood very often. Most of it was not pretty and I rather take it in small parts in therapy.
One aspect of my childhood that I have not dissociated is dancing. I started dancing because of a physical deformity. It was the one type of activity that I did not run out of.
My first dance class was amazing. For the first time in my life, I looked like everyone else in my leotard, tights, and ballet shoes. Even my ballet bag looked like theirs. I was not stared at or laughed at for the first time. The best part was that mom had to stay out in the lobby.
Dance became an escape. The one to three hours a week that no one could hurt me or tell me what they were thinking about me. The studio became my safe haven. I loved the smell, the pictures on the walls, the music, and the feeling of being part of a group.
I really thought that when school ended I would be less stressed. I would not have to get up early in the morning or worry about homework.
I was looking forward to pushing in therapy and having the week in between to work on assignments. We are just starting to get into how the trauma has led to the unhealthy thoughts about food.
Then I get hit with my ex’s new wife accusing me of talking about her and my ex filing for an increase in child support. I am scared that if he gets it, I will not have the funds to see my kids. I have a limited income. For eight years he has been fine with the way the child support is. Now he wants more and it would be almost twice as much as he is getting now. I know I just have to let things play out.
I just want to have time to think and that does not seem to be happening. The one person I could talk to about all of this was my psychiatrist and she is gone. The loneliness is palpable. She always seemed to understand.
I feel alone and overwhelmed. The insomnia seems to be getting worse. The hyper-vigilance and agoraphobia increasing. Thoughts of self-harm are coming back.
If I go in the hospital there is a chance I may lose my kids. That may happen anyway without me wanting it too. I just cannot handle much more!
Last year my ex took me back to court to try and get my children away from me completely. He tried to say that my mental illness made me to unstable to be with them. After a lot of steps, I still get to see my kids.
Now the latest issue is that he wants more child support. He recalculated the amount himself. Personally, I feel that a professional needs to do that.
The latest blow came yesterday when his new wife texted me that the kids tell her that I am talking about her. I have not said anything about her to them. On Mother’s Day I encouraged them to make her a card. From what I know she treats them well and even goes beyond what she needs to do.
She wants us all to meet to get on the same page. Ever since I separated from my ex 9 years ago, we have not been on the same page. Why would we suddenly agree to anything?
He has voiced his opinion more than once that he feels that I am crazy and to ill to be in the kids lives. He does not share what is going on with me and I am often left in the dark.
I just want to stop having to look over my shoulder to see what is coming next. I want something to be resolved for a little bit. Talked about my symptoms being triggered!! Maybe I will get lucky and things will work out, yet the past does not prove to be to hopeful for that to happen.
I am doing a presentation this morning in a crowded American city. Like any city, it has its affluent areas and its areas that need improvement. On my way here I saw boarded up house after boarded up house. There are no businesses or places to work. People are wandering the streets.
I am at one of the clinics that serves the community. It is nice inside, yet it is so overcrowded. People are reduced to being a number. How can these people get treatment for mental illness? How can they get access to a therapist?
Why can’t something be done? There is a bus system and public transportation, yet there are those that cannot afford to use it. There is free transportation, yet one has to go to an office and qualify.
I just hate seeing that there is so little being done to assist people when people higher up complain about the problems. There are ways to fix the problems and to get people help. There are resources and organizations that the city could partner with. Everyone needs a fair chance!
Today is the last day of class for me this semester. I cannot believe that I made it through and was able to come to class everyday. Even though some days I had to push myself to keep going, I did not give up.
Today is bittersweet. Dance is something that I love. It has been a constant in my life and I really wanted to get my AA. There is no way after meeting with a department head at my new school that I am going to be able to continue with both majors😕.
The good news is that I am going to start a new chapter in my life that hopefully will lead me down a path where I can help others.
Therapy went well yesterday. My therapist took what I said and ran with it. That was the first productive therapy session that I have had in a while. It was hard, yet it was so worth it.
Last therapy session I really got on my therapist. I will go off topic again if I can every time an uncomfortable subject comes up. It is not concious, yet thinking back to the session, I know that I have done it. At this point, it frustrates me.
When I was a teen and people were asking me questions, avoiding was a way of survival. I was so scared that I would make a mistake and talk. What would happen if my abusers found out? Life was all about making excuses and making sure that no one knew the real truth about what was going on.
Fast forward to today. My parts still feel like we are going to get in trouble for talking. Like my abuser will somehow magically know what is going on. Yet I need to talk. I need to go through all of the events from the past that are still weighing me down and causing my symptoms to be high.
I know therapy is not easy. I have asked my therapist to push. To not let things get off topic. I am tired of walking out of therapy being disappointed that once again I did not share what I went in to talk about.
This means facing my demons head on and not being able to hide. I need to do this. I want to try to get a little better, yet my brain fights getting well. The memories are pure hell. Sometimes I would rather be physically injured then have to talk about what went on behind closed doors.
I have asked and we shall see how today goes. There is a topic that has been floating out there for a while. Today, it needs to begin to be discussed.
I was woken up at 5am this morning by my neighbor’s shower. Just a tad on the hyper-vigilant side. My symptoms are high right now.
It seems that holidays are hard no matter how good they are. I was able to see my kids this weekend and had a great Mother’s Day with them. Then there is the fact that my own mother wants nothing to do with me.
Today, is just a regular day at school. For some reason, I am having a panic attack over it. Maybe it is because it is my last week of school and everything is coming to a close. Dance is a huge outlit for me. Already, I have used a groupon for a local yoga studio. Another new thing to try!
I cannot believe that the end of the semester is here. Only two more classes until the semester is over. I am proud of myself for getting through it and completing all of the assignments.
In the months ahead, I have to focus on therapy and on the issues that have been built up. I have to stop avoiding all of the subjects that are uncomfortable. Also, I have to be vulnerable which is hard for me.
I am also one step closer to meeting my new psychiatrist. He is supposed to be really good and into art work. I am liking forward to sharing my art with someone again.
Today, I have a paper to finish and an assignment to do. First, a Mothers Day outing with the kids. That should be good.
Even though I have PTSD and an eating disorder I still try to do as much as I can. Sometimes that is to much and then my fibromyalgia stops me by causing me to become so tired that I have to take a break.
This semester has been rough. Two classes at school, a dance class on Tueday nights, volunteering for NAMI, and trying to keep up with all of the kids events.
Next year, I want to teach dance and still dance one night a week. I have also been accepted to a four year school and an going to start there part time.
That leaves the dance major and NAMI. I do not want to give anything up or let anyone down, yet I am not sure that I can handle all of that. It is hard for me not to have at least one day to decompress and do what I need to to stay healthy.
Maybe, I really need to think about a couple of the items that I do now that are really important and stick to those. Trying to do to much is only going to result in failure!!
Mother’s Day is this weekend. There was a point in time when I was in the hospital and asked for a pass to visit with my kids. It was my youngest child’s first Mother’s Day. It meant so much to me because I knew she was also my last baby.
The doctor told me that she did not think that a visit would be a good idea. Then she said that it was only a “Hallmark” holiday. That was so upsetting. Was that supposed to make me any less upset. Until then, I had not missed a Mother’s Day.
Even after my divorce I was able to see my kids on Mother’s Day. That was until last year when my ex tried to take my kids away for good.
Since the fight last year to be able to see them, each time they visit is special. Sometimes I still get scared that he will try to take them away from me again. That some letter will come in the mail or someone will show up at the door.
This year, I am supposed to see them. We have plans to go out to lunch. Life is still a challenge as a mom. The people that they live with often talk negatively about me and say that I am not much of a mother and that they would be better off without me.
One day, the kids will be old enough to make the decision for themselves as to whether or not they want to see me. I hope that our relationship will continue. For right now, I am going to keep cherishing each time that they come to visit and each phone call.