I’ve never done the group thing before It’s pretty damn scary they say we are in a safe place but any time vulnerabilities are released or revealed it doesn’t feel safe it’s hard to feel safe
they say it’s safe here to speak out to tell our stories but hearing others stories silences my own I don’t want my story to overshadow theirs My story is mine and right now it feels like if I speak I am taking from their spaces
I feel conflicted I am not used to just sitting listening watching someone share their pain shed their tears and do nothing except sit in silent agreement I want to go to them to surround them in a heart sharing, heart supporting, hug but we just sit and allow them space to share and to shed to be heard to be seen and to grow
When it is time then maybe just maybe I will allow myself the space to tell my story it just feels too big of a story though it feels like it will take up too much space that I take up too much space that my whole story is actually just too huge Maybe I should write a Readers Digest version it might be easier for others to digest but then I would feel cheated because I too need space to share to be heard to be seen and to grow
be it with our voice or our hands we learn to speak encouraged to express our needs and wants positive or negative
but we also are learned to not communicate by the traumas we endure by the dangers of response
we are learned in skills of self preservation an innocent word triggering an abuser triggering a bully triggering the anger of another
causing violent reaction a chain reaction learning in us over years of trauma to self protect
we shut down we… shut… down…..
moving forward into adulthood damaged goods fight flight fright concreted into our damaged psyche cautious trusts so easily destroyed our fragility protected by a thin crust of bravado our lives spent walking on eggshells
the exhausting daily trials to appear normal to fit in to be more than to compensate for the imbedded feelings of worthlessness to show that sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me yeah right
and then words innocently said body language misinterpreted precipitously triggering violent responses from others loved ones those we trusted
like blunt force trauma to the brain like a knee into the gut with excruciating heart-rending pain leaving us reeling winded wounded revictimised retraumatised wondering where did we go wrong again
not understanding that their triggers are not your triggers their pain like yours is causing them to react is causing a vicious spiral of damaged communication and damaged communicators
It has been just a year – a year like no other We were a fighting force gathered together like a group of raggle taggle gypsies strangers with a common cause We drove together from the south and the north Creating friendships Forming bonds Celebrating life with those who understood Talking freely Rejoicing in the energy surrounding us Fighting for freedoms freedoms lost freedoms stolen not just our freedoms – everyones Fighting for those blinded those hypnotised those scared those compliant
The toll this year has taken is indescribable The abuse The silencing The rollercoasters of energies emotional physical spiritual Exhaustion Exhausted Drained Heartbroken Numbness
Looking into this new year wanting to feel positive But knowing what’s been… Venturing in toe testing the waters Feeling apprehensive scared wary weary
But overall clutching Hope grasping Courage preparing each day to be Brave
Depression is a bitch It attacks seemingly from nowhere And yet Like a black dog it stalks constantly Stealthily waiting for the right moment To pounce To lay me low Then it holds me down It’s weight is scary and yet somewhat comforting It protects me from more hurt Snarls at perceived threats Keeps the monsters at bay Appearing to keep me safe
No matter your age or abilities or situation Loneliness is it just is
It ebbs and flows you can be the happiest busiest person and still be lonely feel lonesome feel so alone in the midst of a busy room be alone in a crowd feel empty
Loneliness is an emptiness it is tears escaping for no apparent reason it is a void a blackness abandonment
Loneliness can begin through no fault of your own from grief loss estrangement abuse physical proximity social isolation emotional isolation feeling different feeling unacceptable feeling misunderstood removing yourself in your head because it hurts removing yourself before it hurts again self protection not allowing anyone in building barriers closing people out
Loneliness can be just there but you don’t know until you do
Most people who read this know my story (If not then cruise on back through my posts and you’ll soon figure it out) And you will know that I have been in therapy for over 10 years now it was actually quite a cataclysmic event that I am able to pin point my breakdown to – the Christchurch NZ February 2011 earthquake happened exactly one month after I broke. Not sure if there is any rational transcendent reasonings behind that timeframe but its definitely a hinging point for my memories
I have learnt and am still learning about me And how the traumas have affected and altered me I’m sure it has been beneficial No, I know it has been incredibly beneficial It hasn’t changed my past But it has altered how I deal with my future My trauma based brain that I operate from still sends out triggers on a daily basis But I have learnt to how to identify them and cope with them more readily
I’ve also learnt a whole heap of new vocabulary And for someone like me who processes in the written word Who loves words Who loves to research This helps me immeasurably
Recently I was talking with my therapist about how people perceive me and how I see myself I am usually seen as being strong and outspoken and independent But inside I am often a quaking mess, unsure, afraid of being hurt and afraid of upsetting proverbial boats
I present this exterior persona of being strong and in control Which I also am I’m both Because the me that is now I Was shattered into pieces And I am trying to meld my pieces back together again Confused much Yeah me too
This quote pretty much sums it up though
10 years of therapy sounds a such a long time But so much else has happened within those years that have rabbit pathed my focus so my therapy has been often stretched sideways I relaxed into it more easily once I was told in the earlier days by one of my case managers that my abuse/trauma would take a very long time to heal from
So anyways, recently my therapist shared these words with me when I was asking her how the hell do I present so together when I’m actually not…
Firstly Dissociation (when we numb out or block painful feelings) I’m already very familiar with this I do it often It makes life so much easier to cope with But it makes others feel like you don’t care
Over identification (when swamped and overwhelmed) oh my Lord! This is way too familiar I know one of my ptsd cover ups has been, and often still is, to keep very busy So I do And then there gets to be too much happening in my brain And I start spinning And one small trigger tips me over And my brain crashes Like the wheel spinning on the computer screen And I blank out drowning in an absolute lost mess
But the third one is the word I needed to understand to answer my question
Disidentification (when keeping at arms length and know it’s not about me) This is the word I had not heard before But it sure is a good one And it is most definitely me A lot of the time It’s the suck it up and do what is deemed right part of me It’s the brave face It’s the masks I wear to protect me And it’s the masks I wear to actually protect others Because no matter how much I break my silence there are still those who do not know, who can not know, who I still protect
This was the me that was able to stand up the front of the church and speak at my own father’s funeral I never understood how I did that But it was expected of me I was the eldest of the siblings Eloquant Strong Someone who gets shit done So I did what was expected And I spoke I remember absolutely nothing My mother of course kept all the words and on her death I probably inherited them along with all the other words she passed on to me I choose not to go searching for them I choose to stay in a state of insulation to protect my very vulnerable self.
Did I speak at my mother’s funeral I absolutely cannot remember I know I organised her funeral I know so many intimate details of the day, the weeks prior and the weeks & months following But I have completely buried that part of the day My mother was an important part of my development but her ultimate betrayal is still too painful and deeply embedded so dissociation wins
But I do know I stood and spoke at my husband’s funeral This was the me that was so broken, so lost, so overwhelmed with pain But I did it Cuz I had to For me For him For the kids I disidentified and dissociated
“Anything that’s human is mentionable, and anything that is mentionable can be more manageable. When we can talk about our feelings, they become less overwhelming, less upsetting, and less scary. The people we trust with that important talk can help us know that we are not alone.”
― Fred Rogers
I was watching the movie “A Beautiful Day in the Neighbourhood” recently and these words really spoke to me They are so true So wise
We have had so many taboos in societal exchange And those taboos create so much stress trauma generating room for abuse of many kinds to perpetuate
If we cannot talk about death life sex mental health relationships etc in normal fashion using real terms and real words
We create prohibitions secrets silences darkness damage
Allowing misconceptions to exacerbate Allowing lies to spread Allowing abuse to continue
Let’s manage our (un)mentionables Let’s talk honestly Let’s talk openly Let’s be supportive Let’s be trustworthy
I know if I had had just one person Just one Who could’ve seen Who could’ve been supportive Maybe, just maybe, life would’ve been so different for the little girl that was me
Unfortunately The one person that spoke up for me all those decades ago was just another small person a witness but also a victim, yet another victim Whose parents couldn’t hear her wouldn’t hear her couldn’t see wouldn’t see And because of their inability to manage the unmentionable she was unheard she was physically abused she was verbally abused she was ridiculed for saying such unmentionable dirty things she was silenced
one victim became two victims and on and on and on
until decades later the ripples in the pond of abuse that my father began have become so big and so far reaching so damaging in so many realms of my life
Ever since I found my voice 8 years ago and began mentioning the unmentionable I have been hearing from more of his victims and from other victims who have found their voices cuz I found mine Finding your voice empowers others
Sadly I am still hearing stories from other victims today It is never ending But as we manage our humanity we find support we find we are not alone
Trust me The landrover’s not gonna go over the bank We’ll be fine Bullshit
Trust me I’m just gonna go to town today I’ll see you tomorrow when you come out with the kids Bullshit
Trust me I’m your friend I’ll have your back Bullshit
Trust me…
Trust me…
Trust me…
When I hear those words… My stomach churns I’m feeling sick My heads pounding I’m crying inside I’m breathing deep Trying to contain my fears My whole body is fighting Trying to release my fears
Trust me… It’s not that I don’t trust you It’s that I can no longer trust myself to trust
