Can it Be?

I spent this Thanksgiving with my family and friends obviously, it's been a couple years. I have to admit that aside from the Thanksgiving at my house last year with just my best friend and I it was the best I've had in a long time. This year there wasn't the normal anxiety from being around family or the food anxieties associated with my food issues. The day was spent entertaining my nephew and enjoying the time spent with my brother and sister and best friend. It was fairly low key until the evening when Little E was getting tired and overwhelmed as we put up the Christmas tree. I was able to balance time with the crowd and time downstairs with my BFF, we'll call her RD. So, it was a success and now I am looking forward to Christmas. The only intrusion from my mother was a simple send all text message and I can handle that any day.

My brother in law is extremely OCD and he got it in his head that we would rearrange the entire house, basically everyone got a new bedroom and Little E's bedroom was turned into an office because of it's ridiculously small size. I was moved to the basement...again. I have mixed feelings about it. On the one hand it gives me a lot more space and quiet time than my bedroom upstairs gave me and on the other hand it is the place that one of my most horrific traumas occurred. Everything about it is different, including the fact that I have a futon instead of a bed which was my choice because I prefer a couch like sleeping area versus a bed some nights. I have a couch and my 'therapy' chair which is the same IKEA chair that Therapist has in her office. All very different, actually it's a pretty awesome hang out space. But the light is the same, the walls are currently the same color and the smells are the same. That was such a difficult fall to begin with and then when the final straw landed when my mother entered our home and waited for me that one night...where she violated me in the worst ways and convinced parts of me that Therapist was the person that harmed me. I am waking up each night around that time with terrible anxiety and a desire to run outside. It's difficult to stay put and endure the night without the hope or comfort that I can speak with Therapist the following day so she can externally confirm that it was not her that harmed me. I miss that a lot right now. I miss being able to connect with her to convince myself that she has done nothing and that it was my mother in my room that night. Most of me knows this and that is helpful and comforting but as I had suspected there are still parts of me that hold onto the delusion that it was Therapist because it's too painful for them to believe it was my mother. That is a difficult grasp to break.

Sitting down here reminds of that time in my life, where reality was so unbearable and when my life shattered into a million pieces. That one act took 5 months inpatient to cope with, to get to a point where my system was not in utter chaos just from seeing Therapist walk by. A time where I was so torn about her place in my life that it was torture. Parts of me knew it wasn't her and others fought to almost death to defend my mother. The only way out of it that I saw was to end my life and I was determined to do so. It was a place where every object around me could be fashioned into a way to harm me. It was time that I was in such desperate need of Therapist but terrified of her at the same time. It's a time where dissociative barriers were being actively eroded in my therapy process when I still needed them to protect my brain and experienced a trauma without them fully intact. It took a really long time to repair the damage done that night, not just months in the hospital but years for Therapist to get to a place where we felt like 95% of me trusted her.

I am trying to make new memories here while still honoring those inside that have the memories right there...pressing on them. It's a tough place to be in but I have faith that I have the strength to win it. I want to win it which is different than before. I want my life to be my own and not my mothers. I want places that were stolen from me to become my own and safe again. I want to look at these walls and etch the way it is now into my brain versus the way that it was. It can be different right?

Warm Whispers

   I have had a few Body as Art submissions, make sure to keep checking the artwork gallery. I hopefully have a few more coming this weekend to share! Yay!

  It's been a week since I've had contact with Therapist and surprisingly it's gone rather fast. I suppose it's because I am planning for my vacation next week and dreading it at the same time. My focus is elsewhere instead of feeling abandoned or lonely due to Therapists ridiculously long honeymoon. I will see her a couple days after I return from my own vacation (which I planned for while she was away). This morning I got up for work and ended up leaving a little early because the sun was already up, and on my drive in I usually listen to music to occupy my brain so I am less stressed when I walk in the door, but today I had a small epiphany. I am unsure how to process this information or even how much of it is based in reality and how much is based in my wicked ability to detach from Therapist like velcro...but I realized that I am only staying in this state to work with Therapist. Is that a good enough reason? Other people might add that it's good for me to be away from some parts of my family and that I have grown as a person here. I agree, but now after 2 years I am wondering if all this is necessary and if my fear of losing Therapist isn't driving me further into dependency.

  When I become homesick I try and tell myself that this is good for me and that I fit into my life here very well, but the nagging feeling that I am missing something or that I belong somewhere else is mind boggling. I want to live somewhere that people know me, love me, miss me and spend time with me. I don't want to long for the short times I get to spend with them. I want to be somewhere that I am appreciated and not such an outcast. I really and truly don't feel like I belong here. At the same time, my life has involved Therapist for the last seven years. This time, seven years ago, Therapist was only considering working with me...she wasn't sure if she wanted my case and had to get consultation to decide. And here we are, having been through what feels like war with no signs of it stopping in the near future and it's not done yet. I adore her, I depend on her...but she is not my family, she is not my friends and I am missing so much to be here to do this work.

  I hope my trip home reinforces why I moved here, not why I shouldn't be here. Only 3 more days until I find out....

The idea of Home

Andrew: You know that point in your life when you realize the house you grew up in isn't really your home anymore? All of a sudden even though you have some place where you put your shit, that idea of home is gone.

Sam: I still feel at home in my house.

Andrew: You'll see one day when you move out it just sort of happens one day and it's gone. You feel like you can never get it back. It's like you feel homesick for a place that doesn't even exist. Maybe it's like this rite of passage, you know. You won't ever have this feeling again until you create a new idea of home for yourself, you know, for your kids, for the family you start, it's like a cycle or something. I don't know, but I miss the idea of it, you know. Maybe that's all family really is. A group of people that miss the same imaginary place.

From Garden State

When this movie came out, this was the quote from the previews that had me hooked. It struck home for me because it was around the time that I finally felt like my own apartment was the preferable place to be, not my mothers home. It was a strange realization that I came to, preffering my own bed and couch and routine. It was a loss that I fought not to grieve, I didn't want the idea of home and family to change...but it was. I finally understood why my siblings had left and never looked back and I felt sad for my mother each time I would visit and then choose to leave on the hour and a half trek back home just to avoid staying. I remember the feeling of joy I would have when I would hit the ramp into Baltimore city, seeing the lights of the buildings and feeling at 'home' after the trips late at night from my mothers home. I remember leaving at 11PM so that she would be heading to bed and put up less of a fight and texting her when I reached my apartment. I remember each time turning past the University of Maryland Medical center and thinking how it was strange how familiar it felt to pass it and how this city was mine. I would rush into my apartment, say hello to my kitty and feel like I belonged and then at some point my excitment would turn into dread but that dread was more safe than I felt in my old bedroom, listening to the sounds of crickets churping and highway traffic. I was safe with the city lights and the fire truck sirens passing below, and safer because Therapist was close...under the same city lights and my door was locked.

In some ways I feel like Baltimore is my home...still. Living here in Georgia it goes back and forth. I feel proud when I remember how to get to places in the city, I feel like I have a solid routine and a coming and going I appreciate. But I have yet to settle into a 'home' feeling. The other day I remembered that this time next week I will be in Baltimore and the first thought I had was "FINALLY a place where people know me, a place that I understand and appreciate!! People there love me!" Maybe it's just the space I am in, but honestly, I think this time leaving Baltimore to come here will be harder than it has ever been,

This sorta fairytale...

      So it's Mother's Day and I usually have a sense of sadness that I don't really have my own mother to celebrate today with. I also usually contemplate the grief I feel over not being a mother (well, I am but my children are not with me) and woe is me, but today I haven't really thought about it in relation to myself. I have called my sister and left her a voicemail to wish her well for the day. I have asked my friends how they celebrated but honestly I am not feeling much...it's just another day...like many others that the world is moving along while I am on another planet. I am drifting in and out of awareness and not minding much else.

    The people across the street have gotten a puppy, a cute little brown boxer that has more energy than I can handle watching. He runs and runs around attached to his leash. He throws himself down and rolls and rolls until he is impossibly tangled and the little girl rescues him each time. It's adorable to watch but how can I possibly sit here and not over-identify with the little guy? What would be an entirely too depressing day without identifying with something like that. A dog on a leash? Perfect fit. I sit here at my desk listening to my iPod playlist titled "Reflective" just for moments like this. I should really consider a second career in 'emo-ism'.

   Therapist has sort of began her 20 day vacation (I think). Aside from our meerkat banter on Friday I haven't heard anything which makes me assume she has began her vacation. I wonder how it is that she doesn't even really tell me the details. She told me in January the exact dates, how am I supposed to remember? She also failed to remind me who my coverage was while she is away...I guess it's the last person that covered me and I don't know her and I wouldn't call her but it would still be nice to know that Therapist put some thought into my coverage and at least had someone on the lookout for me. Strange how things can change so much. Before we moved down here, if she was gone for even a day I had the name and number of the person I was supposed to call in a crisis. Now it's all "I'm gone, good luck, see you when I get back." Now, I know she cares and she won't forget about me or whatever...but seriously? This woman trusts me far too much, especially at a time like this.

  In all seriousness, I am really unsure of the last time that it was this bad for me. I would take a wild guess that it was probably about two years ago...but I don't remember a lot from that time. It's not scary but I guess that should be the first alarm in my head that something is very wrong. A couple of days ago I decided I know what I would do to end my life, and even tested it a little bit to make sure my plan was good just so I could be positive if I wanted that my plan would work. That seems like something that should have me in a empty room with a sign outside that says "Quiet Room" with a Haldol blow dart sticking out of my ass but on some level I am not afraid. I am so depressed that have the 'out' makes me feel a little more safe and not so trapped. If Therapist knew this I am fairly certain two uniformed officers would be knocking on my door at.any.moment. I don't know why, I haven't had a serious attempt in like 6 years.

  My one big suicide deterrent is that I have to go see my family in like a week. They are all expecting me and it is always such a production for me to come see them. I would really hate to hurt their feelings at a time like this. And I guess it makes me really sad to think that if I offed myself while Therapist was on her honeymoon that there would always be some icky connection for her...but honestly? Why do I care? I guess I care about people and it sucks to have feelings about other people. Therapist would love for me to get to a place in which I would want to stick around for myself and not for other people. If I started to be more concerned about doing things for myself I would be dead right now.

  I really wish I did not feel so foggy today, it's like some strange dream I am in...and I really would like to wake up.

Shame and Fantasy

All this thinking about attachment has me hypervigilant about my feelings around relationships or non-relationships in which I feel I need someone or want someone, whether that want/need be based in reality or not, and after all that thinking I am left feeling really sad. I feel very freakish when I think about how strange I am when it comes to wanting someone or something that cannot possibly happen, it's so unrealistic, etc. I think when I desire attachment to a person that is unrealistic the sadness or wanting feelings that I have are somewhat more manageable than feeling the grief over not having healthy attachments in my present life, or just spending more time focusing on the impossible versus coping with how crazy I feel.

Let's examine a little bit further. When I was in the 7-8-9 age range I had a lot of medical stuff going on, I wasn't in school and I was left alone for 10-11 hours a day (aside from the time I spent in foster care). I didn't have any contact with peers and I certainly was not getting any attention at home. Meanwhile I was on terribly high doses of prednisone as well as fast acting inhalers, all of those medications cause me to be paranoid and anxious. I began developing imaginary relationships with people I had more contact with than my parents like my doctors or someone I would watch on TV. I was so alone and out of my mind craving attachment that I would come up with stories in my head about how tv people would take care of me and how I would be so much happier if they were a parent. I would listen to every word they would say and I would relish personal disclosures and feel like I was honored to know something about them. I was never delusional about our actual level of interaction, I would just spend a lot of time in my head wishing they were my parent or wishing that they were my friend. I definitely attached more to women with strong personalities that were funny and loud because that is what I wanted at home.

When I was 10 years old, The X-Files came out which was quite a double edged sword for me. I was terrified of the stories but I was amazed by the Scully character. She was so strong and kick ass and more than anything I wanted her to bust down my door and rescue me from my family life. Scully was more consistent than anything in my life, she was always on television when they said she would be, her character was very rigid (and in fact that is part of the character development) and she was a rescuer. What more would a kid like me want? 9:00PM on Friday nights was the best part of my week. There were many attachments similar to this one but this is the first I remember actually hurting because the reality was that Scully was not real and Gillian Anderson the actress was a big flake. But I really enjoyed the fantasy that Scully would one day save me. I preferred this internal drama versus the real life drama where I would ask for something I needed and be denied or hurt. It was a safety thing for me.

This would all seem pointless to look at if I had grown out of that phase or stopped playing it out in my present day life but at some point I must have internalized that pattern so deeply that even now I cannot get out of it. I ignore the real-ness of most of my relationships whether they be healthy or not because nothing is predictable in reality. I have some very solid healthy and wonderful connections in my life, but those can end it hurt or disappointment or what if they leave me because I am too needy or crazy? Fake people and wishing for fake people to be in life is a lot safer and extremely distracting.

Back in 2001 or 2002, I cannot remember, Law and Order: SVU came out. I immediately glommed on to the idea of the lead character Olivia Benson existing outside of a TV show. She was compassionate, a rescuer and yet a very strong female. I remember wishing I knew someone just like her that I could tell my story to, that would pick me out of my life and punish the guilty parties. I desperately wanted her to exist and it I was terribly hurt knowing that someone like her was probably not out there. When the actress Mariska Hargitay (the woman behind Olivia Benson) began to do a lot of work in helping survivors, especially founding The Joyful Heart Foundation I was so excited to know that she was like the character and I created a fantasy in which she would rescue me too. Obviously this fantasy was never really dealt with and it was a private thing for so long. I feel a lot of shame about how crazy all of this can seem, especially out of context but now I think that I am getting it that it is not something to be so ashamed of, that maybe it's just really sad that I was so deprived as a kid that imaginary relationships and attachments are more safe than actual attachments.

Where does this leave me now? I think I often brush off very important feelings of connectedness and attachment to healthy people in my life because my fantasy world of attachment seems so much more connected and safe. In my head, my current attachments can never seem as real or as meaningful because the expectations and ideas I have around attachment all revolve around the child-like idea of being rescued. I become very defensive and hurt when I feel disappointed because I want people to be Scully or Benson busting down my door and saving me from someone else or even myself, and when someone doesn't do that I just assume it is because they don't care enough. I never consider that maybe I should be my own Scully and care for myself...I still yearn for someone to prove to me that I am worth it. I guess I just don't believe that I am and want external validation from a second party that I am worth saving.

Anyway, I know I am weird..but this shame needed a voice today.