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
Abuse How do we speak about it How do we own it MY abuse or THE abuse
Do we absorb it make it our own Do we try to remove it from within disown it disassociate from it
How do we process those words
Does It become part of me – we become consumed by It – we allow It to absorb Us – we struggle within It – we surrender to It
Or
Do we hold it at arms length – the thing that was done to me – the thing that has affected me – the thing that has crippled me – the thing that changed my life forever
We each develop systems to cope with our individual situations Those systems in turn become mechanisms The mechanisms which allow us to continue to live Some of us ‘appear’ to live well And others of us don’t
No matter what the outside world perceives of us The trauma The abuse has infiltrated our very core pierced our soul And created such damage that we will never ever be the same ever again
But one way we can alter the effects Is to change MY abuse to THE abuse And in so doing We remove the onus From us And give it back To the Abuser, the Perpetrator The one who did things TO us
“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
“Being unable to tell your story is a living death, and sometimes a literal one.” Rebecca Solnit
For the past 10 years I have been learning how to be the adult to my broken child The child who endured traumas no child should ever have to The child whose trust was broken over and over The child who was continually silenced The child who lived a double life In constant trauma In fear of many fears
The adult in me continues to live that double life Because the silencing continues No matter how strong this adult becomes The fear And the hurt And the betrayals The repercussions of all the damage of all the traumas Keep reappearing when least expected When vulnerabilities are low When circumstances allow the cracks to widen So the strengths gained are cruelly eroded
No matter how hard I try The voices of the non understanding ones The antagonists continuing the victimisation of the perpetrators Keep penetrating the mind of the unheard child
‘keep clear of her, she’s a total fruitloop, making allegations’ Seriously? And they were there? No they weren’t there And they are still not there The ones she needed The ones she thought she could trust The ones she should’ve been able to trust Were not there Are still not here
Protecting my inner child is exhausting It is a constant daily Her story deserves to be heard She deserves to live And I will fight to my death to allow her to live
Your inner child needs to trust you as the adult in their lives. An adult who can watch over, protect, witness, honor, guide, lead, and love you. This relationship between adult you and little you in one of the most sacred ones there is. Vienna Pharaon
Thankfully this adult has been blessed With a circle of support and love That surpasses blood That holds me when when my anguished child breaks For this I am truly grateful
masks we all wear that disguise the pain of the feelings the pain of being the pain of the lie – not good enough
such sadness we unwittingly embrace until we stumble upon someone or something who gives us permission confidence freedom to find the strength within to remove the masks to reveal our vulnerabilities to reveal the us
then we find the real, the ability to really love ourselves and each other
My brain has been all over the place during this tumultuous period of our lives There have been so so many triggers I have really been struggling to process them all My emotional state has been highly disturbed and at a very low ebb
Modern technology has been both a curse and a blessing The curse of information overload what to believe what to not who to believe who to not
I have learnt to use Zoom which has been such a blessing as the one certainty each week has been my hour with my therapist It is the 9am appointment that I have to get out of bed and show up for She has helped me unravel my trauma brain amongst all of this confusion The first week was so bad I was drowning in isolation I did not cope with being locked in with being controlled with being silenced with living in fear
Unraveling… Taking it back… Processing…
As a child I was mind controlled I was silenced by fear I was isolated by fear and I was locked in by the knowledge that if I spoke up I would destroy so much By keeping silent I was protecting everyone else but also protecting myself I found strength enough to hold the abuse But I wasn’t strong enough to endure the consequences of breaking silence
My brain was fighting, struggling with being taken back down that dark trauma rabbit hole I was drowning
Once I was able to process and identify I spoke up Voiced my fears And I was heard My friends and family heard my cry for help And through video coffee dates and phone calls And walks in the sunshine & lots of supportive cuddles from my love I have made it through thus far
“My life is so blessed with some of the most amazing people. Thank you for being part of my journey.” – Unknown
I never recognised depression or anxiety within myself for many many years My perceived strength didn’t allow me the grace to recognise or acknowledge them I was too strong I had to be strong to survive Along the way there were times When I cracked just a little bit But not enough for me to acknowledge the causes or the effects It took me a very long time to completely break But in breaking I then began learning about myself Learning that my strength was what protected me Helped me endure Helped me cope through all the traumas But even the strongest things become brittle over time And brittle breaks
And despite all the therapy over the past 8 years all the self learning all of the self care I am allowing myself Yes – I still have to negotiate in my head that I need and deserve to love myself enough to care about myself that I deserve to put me first I still break But each time it is a less substantial break
I give so much of myself I still put myself last I still struggle to stand up and speak out for me I am so good at standing for others speaking up for others advocating for others But I am total shit about advocating for myself
And that is classic victim mentality Damnit!
On the home front here in New Zealand Sexual abuse victims are able to access therapy via ACC sensitive claims Part of this involves undergoing psychological assessments to ascertain authenticity and then ongoing treatment / well-being plans Some fight this process They perceive a stigma attached with mental health diagnosis I don’t have an issue with it If my legs were broken or paralysed I would accept help So if my inner being is damaged I also need to accept help
Since I broke eight years ago I have undergone two assessments I got to a place where I was so broken I needed to accept help No matter where it came from And no matter what strings they attached I was initially diagnosed with PTSD that’s an easy one yeah, well not so easy really It’s actually a bloody nightmare to live with but I’ve managed to wrap my head around that over the past 8 years and I’ve been learning to understand myself within it But during my recent assessment there was an added diagnosis Recurrant Depressive Disorder Great! Another official stamp I so hate being put into boxes But officialdom decrees that to fund my ongoing healthcare I have to tick boxes So anyways… Combine these two along with the constant sleep disorder that delights in being part of the party And the results are at times not pretty
Several weeks ago the tears began The sleeplessness revved up I was breaking Life was attacking me from so many quarters It is like I have 69 different people demanding from me all at the same time But each of those 69 do not realise that there are 68 others It is like a relentless attack on my brain My nervous system goes into hypervigilance I become incredibly anxious My sleep becomes fitful exhaustion, migraines, physical pain, irritibilty, all increase I become hyper alert, hyper aroused, anxious, fearful, And the tears just wont stop
I know that living with me is hard but Living with my self is nigh impossible
I am becoming more aware now though And trying to be more proactive when I feel myself breaking Recently I just had to shut down I allowed myself to Take time Pull back Unload Accept help Increase self care And, the biggest hurdle of all Ask for help Sometimes talking with my therapist is not quite enough to get through these patches This time I have started taking natural ‘meds’ Personally I struggle with taking medication I have fought it for years But now, after a consultation, I am taking 5htp, B6 plus some extra strength multi vitamins They seem to be helping I am feeling changes A few days in and I realised I was smiling again
I am also making a resolved choice to pull myself out of this current hole I’m not out of it yet But I sure as hell am a heap better than I was several weeks ago
And I sure as hell am so grateful for my BFF’s who carry me through these dark days in their own special ways
and to my incredibly supportive fiancé who holds the umbrella during my storms, he not only encourages me to go lion buying – he goes with me 🙂
Arggghhhhh!!!!!! Processing through another massive trigger attack Trying to describe what happens within to explain the outward displays of apparent irrational behaviours
Well they seem to be irrational to those who are not living in my skin
But in my head Robot is blindly circling amok yelling ‘danger! danger! danger! danger! do not compute!’
distressing my brain even more exposing every nerve ending until they are bleeding raw pain
Every part my body is fraught on edge skrieking at the slightest infraction Fear rises to the surface
I’m frightened of everything I perceive as threatening anything that might possibly compromise my safety of loss of death just. plain. scared.
I cry all the time tears flow too damn freely uncontrollable I hate myself for being like this
Processing deeply trying to understand myself Trying to understand myself so others might try to understand me
