I just want this to be over. This being the flashbacks, nightmares, alienation, and physical illnesses. I thought that therapy would help. All it seems to be doing is going around in circles with no clear purpose.
Words like treatment resistant have been used. Apparently, that just means it will be harder to get better. I go into therapy every week and try to talk, yet I am blocked by all of the old messages of silence.
My emotions are buried. No matter how much I want them to come up, they stay down often leaving impulses to self harm. Why can’t I just communicate feelings like everyone else.
Today, I will try again to talk about ???? What do I talk about when everything seems to be imploding. Even my doctors I believe are sick of me. How much longer can I go on this way?
Just get over it! Move past it! That was a long time a go!
All of those statements have some validity to them. I do need to work through what happened to me in the past. I need to admit that my childhood was littered with horrible experiences.
I just did a presentation this morning. I like being able to tell my story, yet sometimes it just brings up so much crap. Sometimes I wished that I had a different mental illness. One that I could just take some medication for and be better enough to function. There are not any medications to take away the memories. Memories of being beaten, thrown and locked outside in the cold, being tied to my bed for hours, being molested by a relative. Those are the images that are burned into my head.
When I walk down the street or ride in the car, I notice people who look like my abusers and I wonder if they were kind to their child or cruel. I will never know the answer to that question.
My friends and family help me to forget the horrors of my childhood. I get to play the games with my kids and watch the movies that I was not allowed too. I get to give them hugs and am more than happy to get a hug from them. I love when they read to me or share about their day. They know that I am there for them no matter what. I did not have that. I do not want them to have to struggle through the same mess that I did. I want them to at least remember some good times from their past and that their mom was there.
My mom was a monster who came after me the moment that my dad left the house. She turned into something else. No matter what I did it was not right. She would always tell me that she was going to get the “rod”. Surprisingly, she seemed to know where to beat me so the bruises never showed. The physical bruises healed a long time ago along with the other injuries. What remains are the ghosts of what happened. The phantom pain in my arms and legs. The pain in my back. The feeling that I am not safe!
I want to overcome these nightmares, yet it is an uphill battle that I do not feel that I am always winning!!