Inexplicable Explanation

 

These past few weeks, I’ve been finding myself becoming increasingly more of a sap over small things.  Or suddenly struck with fear or dread over something I see on the television.  I watched Spirit: Stallion of the Cimarron. I am a horse lover, so I like the movie, but I cried the entire time.  That’s not normal.  I cried when a man was kind and caring to a woman on a television show.  And I start thinking, “Wow, I’m emotional with no explanation.” But there’s always an explanation.  I just have yet to find it.  Or want to find it.  Normally it’s the latter.
I had not been putting much thought into it until it refused to be ignored the past two days – over the weekend, when I was laid up in bed from a herniated disc in my neck.  I’m going on month 5 of this, and after a long week, I had planned on having no plans over the weekend.  Apparently, my emotional self, and all the other “selves” that come with that, took advantage of this time.
Perhaps I have been avoiding them.  Even neglecting them.  Or perhaps I’ve downright abandoned them lately.  I think I’ve had to.  I’ve had stress lately…I think I’ve lost time once or twice.  My memory has been downright shitty.
And now I’m crying at animated movies narrated by Matt Damon from 2002.
How the fuck did I get myself here?
I keep thinking, “Yeah, you’re good…You don’t need therapy anymore.  Besides, what else can she help you with? Clearly, you’ve made your decision.  Clearly, you think you can handle having contact with your father while still living near your mother who works long distance for your father.  Clearly, you think that’s the only way forward right now, so clearly, that’s the way forward.”
Clearly.
Have you ever gotten yourself so screwed over in a position….Financially, mentally, emotionally….That you just can’t find a way out?
That’s where I am.  It will be years before I dig myself out of the hole I’m in.  I’m working on it.  I’m trying to explore possible escape routes.  But it appears I will have to suck it up and take the long way out.
I sure hope my life is worth it. Good thing I’ve got this new semicolon tattoo on my ankle to keep me sane.

The inevitable truth

I think I mentioned a while ago that I was thinking about going on a vacation over my birthday.  Well, for various reasons I never did.  But I am now, and I’m excited. Except for a couple of things which I’m just going to set aside for now so that I can enjoy the trip.

In the last post, I explained the growing situation with my parents.  Well, I had taken the situation as an opportunity to break off contact with my father.  I explained to my mother that  I was not going to try to patch things up this time.  She told me that was fine.  I just didn’t think that I would have needed to ask her not to patch things up for me, but apparently I should have.  Because now I’m back at square one.  Maybe even further back.

I got an email from my mother a few days ago saying that she didn’t think my father would be angry with me anymore and that he won’t be asking for an apology from me anymore.  I was suspicious.  So I called her and asked her what she did.  She said that she explained to him that I am simply an immature kid who needs to have a mature adult to show me the appropriate way to act.  Hearing this made me a bit sick to my stomach, and I felt a quick burst of anger flow through me, but I didn’t say anything.  She said that she doesn’t actually think that about me but that she was just telling my father “what he wanted to hear” to get him off my back.  I don’t believe her.  She so easily lies to him, in elaborate ways, that I see absolutely no reason why she wouldn’t be doing the same thing with me.  My therapist agreed with me…unfortunately.

I feel defeated.  My attempt to do something that I thought was healthy for me has now been interpreted as immature – something a kid would do.  Like a defiant teenager acting out against a parent for no legitimate reason.

I didn’t say anything to my mother about what she told him, because nothing good could come of confronting her about it at that time.  So I let it lie.  But when I was in therapy the other day, I started talking through the situation and came to a realization.  I have two options.  Either I stay a part of this contorted, abusive, dysfunctional web that is my family, or I break off from them.  I no longer have the option of breaking off from just my father.  As long as my mother is enmeshed with him, if I want to cut contact with my father, I’ll have to do it with both of my parents.  My mother, despite her faults, does try hard to love me, and it seems unfair to her for me to punish her for his behavior.  And that’s exactly what I’d be doing if I cut contact with them.  My T pointed out to me that my father is essentially using my mother as a weapon against me, because he knows that if she’s angry or upset with me, that it makes me feel guilty.  So even if I stay in contact with her, it’s still like he has a way of getting to me.

As I was explaining this to T, I was speaking somewhat matter-of-factly.  She asked me if I realized what I was saying and kept trying to remind me of the gravity of the situation.  I feel resigned, because some part of me knew that this was always going to be the case, no matter how I tried to get around it.  My T then started talking about the fear I’d felt the last time and that it seems like immediately after I have any contact with my father, in any form, I have serious internal repercussions.  She seemed to talk around what she really wanted to say, which was: no more.  Keep him out.

She’s right, I know she is.  Maybe the timing is right.  T and I had a wonderful conversation last time, one that affirmed my trust in her and reassured me that she’s in this for the long haul.  I know for sure that I have someone to support me if (when?) I take that step with my parents, because it won’t be easy.  I may not do it today, or tomorrow, but I don’t think I’ll make it through another holiday season with them.

In the meantime, I’m going to enjoy a nice four days off from work and the first vacation I’ve had in 6 years.  Happy Thursday, everyone!

Confession: I am attached to my therapist

I had never realized that any connections I had with people weren’t really real, but just some sort of approximation of connection that has been enough for me to have some friends over the years. I didn’t realize that until it dawned on me that I have a connection so true and deep with my therapist that the “‘A’ word” is being thrown around now. The one word that in three syllables can define a million different emotions and behaviors. And now that I’m here, finding myself attached to my therapist, I can see just how fervently I believed that I would never, ever be so close to someone to become attached. It’s too close to someone, and it means that if she decides one day that she hates me, it will hurt. I won’t be able to just shrug it off. I opened the door to my world, and instead of having her look at it through a pane of glass, she’s in here with me, and it’s terrifying.

I feel like being attached to her is a weakness – something to be ashamed of – so I never saw myself truly telling her the depth of what I feel for her, because it seems like something I should never feel in the first place. So when I came into my last session before my T’s 3 week break, I had fully cut off all emotion. We spent the first 15 minutes just chit chatting, and I had no intention of mentioning that I, or actually a smaller part, feel abandoned by her leaving in the midst of everything that has been going on. Except I had to cut myself off so completely to avoid feeling that abandonment anymore that I couldn’t even think straight. My head was full of swirling, dense fog. But, of course T suspected what was going on and asked if maybe I was cut off because of family issues, work, and the fact that she’s going away for a long time.

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A vacation and a trip to Nothingness

I decided this week that I’m going to take a vacation in a couple of months for my birthday.  Yes I am, yes I am, yesIamyesIamyesIamyesIam (Friends reference).

I haven’t taken one in 6 years, and even though I hate my body right now, I am going to go to the beach.  I don’t have many friends anymore since most moved away after graduation, and I’m about 10 years younger than everyone at work – and they all have families – so I toyed with the idea of going by myself.  That way, I wouldn’t have to worry about being in a bathing suit around someone I know and worrying what they’ll think.  I’ll think that of complete strangers, but I won’t ever see them again.

But I couldn’t make the leap to go ahead and book a room and plan to be by myself.  While it felt liberating and I was excited to just do whatever I wanted for a few days, it also depressed me.  I would feel too self-conscious to go to restaurants by myself.  I would probably feel very self-conscious in general being by myself, wondering what people thought of me.  I know I should get over that, but I couldn’t rationalize spending money on a trip that I may spend being utterly miserable… Continue reading