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A key word that you will see:

Fragmentation: a mental process where a person becomes intensely emotionally focused on one aspect of themselves, such as “I am angry” or “no one loves me,” to the point where all thoughts, feelings and behavior demonstrate this emotional state, in which, the person does not or is unable to take into account the reality of their environment, others or themselves and their resources. This is a term that my therapist and I use and is on the continuum of dissociation.

Tuesday, July 8, 2008

Past Journal Entry ~ July 9/10, 2005 Part II

Continuation of Past Journal Entry: July 9/10, 2005

When I was a preteen or teenager, I remember getting into an argument with my step-father after I asked him to turn the volume of the television down. My mother slapped me in the face and sent me to my room. Shortly, after I heard her come up the stairs and swing my door open and she started screaming at me about getting along with him and told me that I'd better watch myself because, "he could kill you." [This was ingrained in me and said to me frequently because it is one thing that runs over and over in my head and I can hear it very clearly, but not specific incidents...just many moments. And, given what I know now, I had every reason to believe that he would kill me.]

Just before, she came upstairs, I could hear them yelling at each other and that I caused the argument they were having. She left my room. I didn't respond, say anything or cry even though I could feel the tears in my throat. I started to hit my thighs with my fists. [This was the beginning of the really tough struggle with self-injury. I cause bruises, but I learned that it felt good to get my anger out and I also numbed out and didn't feel the physical pain.]

From, at least, when we lived in the apartment, I wanted to die, felt overwhelmed, terrified, angry and wanted to cry. But, for some reason I stopped crying long before that. [A lot of what I know now, I didn't when I was remembering and talking about these incidents for the first time. I now know that it began in infancy.]

There were so many nights where I couldn't sleep...not sure how I functioned at school. His drinking made everything worse and I remember my mother trying to get him to stop, but that just made it worse. When she drank, it really scared me. I'm sure he was an alcoholic, but not sure about my mother. [What I am able to tell myself now is that he was an alcoholic and my mother abused alcohol.]

I really want to die right now and hurt myself. Just remembering how awful I felt all the time and how alone I felt.

At one point, every Saturday became really bad, as it was house cleaning day and my mother was quite meticulous. We had a two story home, so sometimes it took four or more hours to do it the way she wanted. But, no matter, what I did most of the time it wasn't to her satisfaction, so she was constantly screaming at me the whole time and sometimes, she would hit me.

I never knew when she wanted to clean and on a few Saturdays, she wouldn't, but I wouldn't know ahead of time. So, I'd either be awakened by her opening my door screaming at me or her screaming at me through my door or I would be awakened by her cussing and throwing things. She even did this when I had a friend stay the night. I quickly learned not to have anyone stay over night. [My friend just packed her things and walked home. We never spoke about it. I just spent the night at her house from then on. I was so embarassed.] Other times, things would be fine...most often not.

Right now, I really want to just die and to hurt myself. I really want to bruise, but I am trying hard to keep my promises.

Remembering the argument with my step-father. I don't even know what it was about, but he started to scream at me that I was in his house and he didn't want me there and told me to leave. Then, he just kept screaming at me to leave. I left and it was getting dark, my shoes were in my room, so I left in my socks. I remember thinking, "where am I going?" and then thought I could walk into traffic and kill myself. Miss B, a close family friend was there, so she drove up and took me to her place.

[About seven months ago, I spoke with Miss and now Mrs. B and apparently, she remembers it just slightly differently. She took me home to get things and asked if I could stay with her that night, but they said no because I was being manipulative. Her version is worse than mine, but I don't think I could handle the truth when I originally wrote this in 2005. When she told me, I actually felt sick to my stomach.]

The next day my mother was really angry at me for upsetting my step-father and for leaving (even though he was insisting) and warned me not to get him angry because she thought he might kill me one day. [From a very young age, I grew up with the knowledge that he was capable of killing me and that my mother would do nothing to stop it because it would be my fault. I would have caused it. Implict in this statement is that he could kill her. I'm writing this and thinking, no wonder I'm so hypervigilant. I do wonder if that will ever go away.]

I felt so bad...and like I couldn't do anything right. It was like I knew better than to argue with him. Somehow, I don't think it mattered much. I was going to get yelled at for some reason no matter what. Which would always anger my mother. So, if she was angry with him or he was angry with me...either way it was my fault and I got in trouble and usually slapped or hit.

I feel so much like I need to talk about these memories. But, I've talked about all of these before. [This was not true. I had never talked about them with any feeling associated with them, let alone feeling them at the time and there was more details. And, I'm learning that it doesn't matter how many times I talk about something. I will talk about something until I no longer need to. My therapist says, I'm not there to entertain him. Also, that I add a little more detail or have more feeling or something else about the incident gets integrated.] My stomach and chest hurt so much right now.

I really just want to die and want to really injure myself and want to bruise. Maybe, purchase the alcohol and not tell you. I'm trying really hard to keep my promises. I'm feeling really overwhelmed and really feel like I need to talk, but there is so much.

The telephone calls, voice notes, voice mail messages, notes, and the pillow have been helpful. And, making the promises. But, I'm having a really difficult time and thinking of lying to you. I hope you know that I will not lie to you. I just want so much to hurt myself and the suicidal thoughts are really loud. Feeling a bit crazy right now. Like I don't have any control over my thoughts, feelings, or what sensations my body remembers. I just feel so awful.

Observations: None really. Just what I've already written in purple and what I wrote yesterday. I will say that my symptoms are likely to increase once this is posted because I still feel ashamed, like it is no big deal, I am too sensitive and I should not have told.

6 comments:

mini uk said...

hey there, ou have every right to tell your story in my opinion, would you think I have a right to tell ine? I have a therpay appointmnet soon & I am planning on continuing to tell my story although it seems to drop like a leaking tap. I can see a lot of how I feel in you, but I know I am harder on myself for what I think but it's fine for you to say as much as you want, I feel a bit jumbled hope it makes sense, gentle hugs to you, love mini

Clueless said...

Hi mini, thank you. I know that we all have the right to and need to tell our stories. Things were really slow with therapy when I began and now with the ability to trust some it is easier to talk, but I've known my therapist for 21 years. I too am much harder on myself than I am on anyone else. *gentle hugs back*

The Unstable Blogger said...

Hi, I can relate to your feelings after posting things that are about your past and/or deeply personal. I always regret posting that kind of thing immediately after...I feel stupid that I have allowed certain things to happen to me or weak that I wasnt able to stop them. You are absolutely right that we ALL have a right to tell our stories and NONE of us should feel ashamed or stupid or weak for having done so.

For what it is worth, you telling your story gives others the strength to tell theirs. And think about this...for every one person who takes the time to write a comment, there are many more who are inspired and feel less isolated by your words but just not ready to say it.

My thoughts are with you and please know that while I know this is very painful, you are doing a good thing for yourself - and others. Every post I read of yours touches me in some way. I think it is important to let people know when they touch you sooo..thats what I am trying to do. :)

Clueless said...

@I have a feeling that after revealing something that that reaction is quite common among those who experience abuse.

Thank you so much for letting me know that I touch others who don't leave comments. I'm glad that I am able to heal and help.

Tamara said...

clueless,

You have every right to tell your story. Our abusers taught us that we could not speak our truth but they were wrong! Every time you share your story and process I learn something, gain courage, or gain empathy. All good things. If it weren't for the courageous, honest bloggers like you then I would have locked my new memories of SA deep inside and not shared on my blog and then I would not have had the healing benefits of speaking my truth, having others come over to comment and support me or shake the abuser voice warning me to stay silent. I am just beginning to feel like I can put more and more details as I remember them of both my abuse and my healing process. So you have given me a real gift.

Stay strong - you have so much to offer,

Love,
Tamara

Clueless said...

Tamara,

Thank you!! You keep at it too!! Everything will be alright.

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