and i miss my best friend.  the one person i’d ramble to when feeling completely lost.  they are in another country and now the ocean feels like the expanse of the universe

Advertisements

where to go

i joined a support forum for survivors of SA, as they like to call it.  save me the fear of typing things i don’t like.  at the moment, i’m ruminating over whether it’s a good idea or not because it leaved me feeling extremely conflicted.

i don’t like talking about this for multiple reasons:

  • i feel like i’m attention seeking
  • i feel like it’s soliciting sympathy
  • i feel like it’s the american cultural tendency to ‘compete’
  • i’ve been predisposed to feel like all these intentions are very very very bad
  • i’ve been accused of lying
  • i hate complaining
  • i hate the feeling of ‘dwelling’ on something
  • i hate feeling this way and just want to let it go

i have multiple emotions which are constantly brewing and i won’t give into to any of them.  Anger, extreme anger, depression, shame, guilt, frustration… i want to sit down and cry myself into a storm of sadness and hostility, and i wont ever let myself.  i’ve been told i have to let these emotions out and let them run their course, and i refuse to.  my instincts tell me the floodgate will never close and i’ll loose myself entirely… and additionally, i’m in touch with a part of my brain that tells me i don’t deserve the satisfaction of the release. it’s my path in life to feel miserable and i deserve the torture i’m in.

so i feel ridiculous contributing to this community.  i don’t deserve any feeling or recovery they have to offer, and any attempts to contribute punctuates the fact that i’m a terrible person for the reasons listed above.

it’s really an awful space to exist.

i feel like this post is rambling… i feel the need to type and can’t make sense of what i should say…  i’ll take a break, maybe it will become clearer later

blindly walking

So i’ve been released from the obligation of a positivity list.  apparently, it’s hard for many people in therapy, now i’m solely tasked with attempting a mental reminder of something positive at the end of the day.  apparently it helps to rebuild pathways in the brain. continued mental interruption, positive reinforcement and ‘talking back’ to the negative thoughts are all supposed to help build these pathways as well.  that’s what my doctor says… and my DBT counsellor.

it’s times like these i wish i wrote poetry

i pound into a keyboard as it seems the only available coping mechanism i have at the moment. i used to drink, but that gave me horrific consequences i’m not willing to engage in anymore. i have an exposure now which involves me continually listening to a 2 second recording of my doctor saying a word i hate.  a word i can’t speak. a word i can’t write unless the letters are very far apart, a word i can’t read without feeling the panic grip my chest.  i word i can’t hear without fighting off the urge to break down and cry, but i won’t give myself the release.

now i have to listen to it over and over again everyday and rate how i feel.  …and it makes me want to throw the table across the room.  i’ve been living with this for 5 years now,  i’ve been committed to dealing with it for 6 months and i feel like i’m only now going down this road.  what the FECK have i been doing?  i knew this was coming, but suddenly hearing it stated in my ear by any voice that isn’t my own inside my head inspires me to claw my skin off.  its as if i’ve suddenly involved someone else, i’m about to suffer the horrific consequences of breaking the silence on a deadly secret and every survival instinct i have in my head is screaming at me to stop.

i see nothing but failure around me.  i see unhappiness and destruction in the wake of my footsteps.  i see stress and anxiety cast upon those in my presence and it makes me want to be invisible.

positivity not always positive

so despite my claim that i would try to keep track of my positive list on this site, i’ve been lacking.  not for lack of trying actually as i still had to turn on in on wednesday for my therapy session, but mostly i find the positive list is having the opposite effect.  I usually search and scramble to try to find something to write down on that stupid list.  Not always… fortunately… but most of the time.

How does this make me feel?

Worse.

I wish i could rewind my life to 3 years ago (roughly) when i could exist in blissful delusion and denial.  Now i’m acutely aware of my negative thoughts, their impact on me and how i can’t seem to counteract this thinking.  Writing down something positive everyday just punctuates that fact that I’m a complete FREAK that can’t see the beauty that is life right in front of me.  Why should it be so FECKING hard to find something positive everyday?

DBT has been teaching me that we are entitled our feelings and thoughts, and CBT teaches that feelings will eventually dissipate, following a bell curve of progression. So I’m entitled and they will eventually go away?

Still waiting…  and it sucks.

Lacking on positivity

So i realise I’ve been lacking on my positivity list and i see my doctor tomorrow.  Been doing homework with prolonged exposures where i have to write the letters in an extremely triggering word over and over again, and decrease the space between them until they are a complete word.  Been working on it for 3 weeks, and still can’t bring them together. Grrrrrr…

Have to rate my feelings after 5, 10 and 15 minutes of writing.  They still rank around a 5-6.  Exposures SUCK! why on earth did i have to find a CBT doctor?

Anyway, back to positive list…

  • T – 7/16 – got up in time for J, and got her to the station
  • W – 7/17 – played guitar in front of strangers
  • T – 7/18 – Called my mom

That ought to do for awhile.  My doctor tells me if I can’t think of something out of the ordinary that’s positive, to try and seize things that i did outside of my comfort zone.  Calling my mother out of the blue and playing guitar for a room full of people i don’t really know are VERY far outside of my norm.

At least that’s something…

Clarification

A second sleepless night.  I sit and attempt to sort through my thoughts as I’ve been taught through mindfullness skills with my CBT specialist, as well as in my DBT classes. 2 thoughts come to mind.

This weekend my family and assorted friends went camping at a beautiful secluded little hideaway along the beach just outside the city in celebration of S’s birthday. From Wednesday morning until Saturday morning we enjoyed gorgeous views, the comforting sound of fog horns and a slightly unpleasant sense of chill that goes hand in hand with living near the city, regardless of the time of year.  As is the case with our group of friends, there was much alcohol to be consumed.  I should clarify that my husband is a brewer, so he always has gorgeous concoctions on tap to share with others.  He also has a penchant for posh Irish whiskeys. I should also clarify that I no longer drink, having discovered that abusing alcohol in the throws of my PTSD was more harming than helpful.

Wednesday went beautifully and quiet, and i actually spent a majority of the time asleep in the tent from exhaustion through the previous few days.  Thursday, i had to drive into the city for my weekly DBT classes, so i returned to the campsite around 10pm.  By this time, a longtime friend of my husband’s was completely trashed.  Now in G’s defence, he is a good friend, is completely harmless and is a pleasant happy drunk.  This being said, he proceeded to follow me around the campfire for the following two hours, putting his arms around me, tickling me, poking me, shoving in a humorous manner and otherwise crossing the lines of polite friendly physicality in numerous ways.  Eventually another close friend of mine, B, who was witnessing this, planted himself firmly between myself and G.  Upon the arrival of my husband back at the campfire (he was at the cliffside view of the bridge while visiting with a childhood friend he had not seen in years), myself and B politely suggested to G that he was ‘really drunk’ and should probably be escorted back to his tent for his own safety.  Fortunately, G is gentlemanly enough to recognise when he’s completely trashed and agreed.

Just as I’m reaching a small sense of comfort again in the absence of G, a newcomer to our campfire, someone who is friends with G that i only know peripherally, sits himself at the fireside and proceeds to say to  me as I go for more wood, “You’re looking sexier than ever”, to which i didn’t respond. When i return with the wood, he punctuates his statement with, “You are so hot”.  I ignored him again, while attempting to settle the anxiety clenching my chest and the growing sensation of nausea.  I did later discover that ‘Y’ and his wife are polyamourous, which I didn’t know and didn’t know how to react to.  It did however shed some light on the events i witnessed earlier in the day involving his wife snogging another man on the beach.

Do all these things amount to a big dramatic event? Absolutely not.  Are they particularly disturbing to myself? Yes.  Is this the only time this has happened to me?  No.  This marks the third time a close friend of mine has gotten drunk and crossed a very clear (albeit not illegal) line.  G was actually more of puppy dog compared to the others, but G in combination with the comment from Y left me feeling quite objectified and dirty.

I know others would say I should feel proud and complimented, take it for the positive intent is was meant for.  Is that what it was meant for?  Are woman simply supposed to take any remote positive interpretation of casual conversation void of intent or implication as a feather in their cap? I don’t see it that way.  i don’t think i ever will. I’ve harboured a bad relationship with my self-image my entire life.  From 8yo until meeting my husband, I’ve had more than a fair amount of extremely cruel things said to me regarding my appearance and general state of self.  Disgusting, chubby, fat, ugly, scary-looking, trash, bland, boring, masculine, dykey, awkward, animalistic (that one was one of my favourites), ‘the ugly one’ while in a group of people… you name it.

now to enter my 30s and suddenly have compliments projected at me, compliments in a sexualised objective fashion… just makes it worse.  it becomes a thesis statement punctuating the other feelings cultivated throughout my existence. I am simply an item, a thing created for the amusement of others, and my sense of worth will forever be nothing more than what i can be used for in the moment.

To go from one extreme to another leaves me feeling like the object I’m meant to become.