House is a Four

I've talked about the Enneagram, the personality system, on here before. Recently, I've purchased a book about the system, in an effort to better understand my type and, more importantly, to learn how to use that information for growth. After "Fifty Shades of Grey", it's pretty dry reading. Interesting, but dry. And slow. But, insightful.

I've recently learned the Type Fours (my type) tend to be under-expressive in their emotions. At first I thought "There is no way this applies to me! I'm super emotional!". But as I read on, it explained that Fours feel just as much, however they channel those feelings into creative outlets, such as music, poetry, art or maybe blogging *ahem*. I put the book down and really started to reflect and examine this new revelation.

I get so caught up in feeling all these emotions, but I don't know how to broach the topic with people. I desperately want people to reach out to me. I have friends and family who I know are there for me, and have told me on multiple occasions that I can always turn to them. But I just can't do that. I don't know what I'm afraid of.

"You're so afraid if you change, you'll
lose what makes you special."
-Dr. Wilson to House 

The source of this is obvious. In my home growing up, we were not allowed to express ourselves. We were supposed to be obedient little Stepford children. If we cried, my sisters and I were told "Stop crying or I'll give you something to cry about!" [May the good Lord strike me down if I ever utter this to my children!] I didn't know how to express any emotion appropriately. So I went to school and work and did my best to wear a mask, hiding the torment inside. Generally, I think I was pretty good at it.  I once had someone tell me that they assumed I had lived a "charmed life" because I just seemed happy. But it's not something I could just "turn off" when I was no longer being abused. It was a well-learned habit. There are times in life when this serves me well. For example, any job where I've had to deal with the public. "Happy" is what they are paying for, whether it be at the Burger King drive-thru, Blockbuster check-out or attending activities in the nursing home. The "mask" is appropriate at those times. 

But it becomes a problem when I'm unable to take off the mask around other people. People I could be friends with. The concept of the mask isn't really new to me, but understanding just how much I under-express feelings is.

Because of this, I naturally hold people at an arm's length. Which feeds the feeling of being different from others. Which feeds the act of holding people at an arm's length. Do you see the vicious cycle here?

This all also plays a part in holding on to feelings that make me feel different as well. Melancholy is defined as:

1. a gloomy state of mind, especially when habitual or prolonged; depression.

2. sober thoughtfulness; pensiveness.

It is pretty common for me to feel melancholy. I start to dwell on all my "deep, dark feelings". I get annoyed that "no one" understands me, and that I feel unconnected with those around me. It's taken some time, however I'm now able to recognize these feelings when I'm experience them. But it's still difficult to stop them. It's so comfortable. Like baked macaroni and cheese and Studdly Hubby's pajama pants. None of it is good or attractive, but man, does it feel comforting. 

I don't want to say I'm "stuck" here, because I am making progress. I understand this particular issue more and more all the time. But I don't like being in this space at all, because finding comfort in these feelings is not something I'm proud of. 

But it is the truth. 

I feel so close to the edge of a breakthrough here, so I'm not going to give up!!

Rachel

The Next Layer

I'm not even sure where to begin tonight...

My mood - This has been a rough several weeks for me. I could feel something starting to bubble below the surface. I was really emotional and weepy. My mood has slowly slid into a darker place since then. This past week/weekend has been the worst so far. I've been crying at the drop of a hat, often for no particular reason. I've been talking to Simone about it, and we both agreed that something was going on, but it was hard to say what. It seemed as if my subconscious was trying to protect me from something. Often, in traumatic situations, the psyche will create a "protective self" that is only useful during the trauma. However, old habits die hard and that protective self doesn't know that its job is done. This seemed as if it could be a direct correlation to the dream I had about the dead woman. A sense of dread kept me from exploring the situation further.

Last week in therapy, I was talking about some of the abuse. I became abnormally emotional when I related how my dad would put the responsibility on me to stop the abuse. After he was done, usually after he ejaculated, he used to apologize, say it would never happen again, but to just say "no" if he ever tried again. Obviously, I tried that, and it never worked out too well. When he was diagnosed with prostate cancer, the abuse stopped for about a year when I was 16-17. I thought I was finally home-free (from that part of the abuse anyway) until his treatments were done and he got his libido back. I fought harder than ever to "just say no" and was devastated when I lost the battle. In therapy today, I commented that I couldn't remember the first time it happened after that year, but suddenly recalled sobbing in my bedroom. Honestly, its hard for me to even think about it further without becoming emotional. Besides my family letting me down, it has been the greatest disappointment of my life thus far...

So I think there may be two things at play here. First, I was taught, in a very big way, that just when I think things are going to be ok, everything will come crumbling down. Just when I started to believe that it wasn't going to happen anymore, and was growing stronger and stronger in my belief that I could stop it if it started again, I lost.  So now, when things are going well in my life, you can almost set your stopwatch for the inevitable fall.

The second thing I realized on my drive home tonight. I think I am actually starting to face the abuse. I've been facing the after affects, but not the abuse itself. I think that may be a major part of the next "layer" I have going on. I usually don't cry so easily when talking about it, and even when I did this last time, I didn't let myself let go and "cry it out". I composed myself. So I know there are more tears there, waiting...

This is much bigger and nicer than the one I
visited, but you get the idea...

I revisited the dream with the dead woman in my inner work last week. I tried to get closer to investigate, but the rungs on the ladder kept snapping in half every time I stepped on them. My protective self did not want me to go any further, emotionally or even in the dream. I did some more inner work today, in which Simone led me to a house. I walked from my "happy place" (working on a new name for that...) to my safe place and saw a house plopped down in the sand to the left (to the right are the cellar doors). The house was white, with aluminum siding and black shutters. It was very typical and blase - nothing that would grab your attention. The inside smelled like it had been closed up for quite some time. It had a few furniture pieces, but nothing ornamental, as if though nobody lived there. Simone asked me to look for a message of some sort. I noticed some writing appear on the wall to the left. It said simply "Why are you here?" Not really sure myself, I responded by writing on the wall "I'm exploring..." I then asked if there was a message for me and got the response "Keep looking..." *On a side note, a house can often represent one's self.*

From there, I walked into a large empty room and looked out the windows at farm country. As I walked closer, a vicious dog barked at me from outside. I jumped back and headed to the stairs on the other side of the room. I got the sense that I had "beat" my protective self, that I had gotten inside before she could stop me, so I was free to explore. I walked up the stairs and saw the hallway from the house on Monroe St. I was drawn to my old bedroom. It was pink and deliciously girly. My 12-year old self showed up and seemed to be doing ok. I realized I needed to be with my 17 year self, who was completely devastated that the abuse was continuing. She wasn't coming to me, so I realized I needed to be with her. Suddenly, I was in my bedroom in the basement, holding her and letting her sob. I let her cry it out for a few minutes, then shared with her that it was all over. That "this" wasn't reality. I waved my arm, and our surroundings disappeared like a crumpled up backdrop. We were left in a blank white space. From there, I took her back to my bedroom where I began. I shared with her all the little things in my life that I had that I knew she dreamed about. I was free and independent. I was someone she dreamed of being but would barely recognize as herself. I was a woman and no one was going to make choices for me like that ever again.

I always find it funny that when I start posts with a comment like "I don't know what to write" or " I don't know where to begin", I quickly figure it out...and then some! I have some other things on my mind to share on here, but I think I have enough for now.

Rachel

Insert Title Here

I'm not really sure what to write here tonight. I've been dealing with something lately, although I'm not sure what it is. My emotions have been abnormally close to the surface for the past several weeks. I've been having some uncomfortable dreams, some not so uncomfortable and some just silly, although I don't really feel like sharing them right now. But thanks to those dreams, I haven't been sleeping well. I was dog-tired all day today. I've had people tell me I look tired on several occasions lately. I get enough hours of sleep, but the quality is just not there.

Several months ago, I was feeling really confident in myself, my future and plans to change the world. The song "Firework" by Katy Perry really spoke to my heart. But lately, that spark just isn't there. I'm still confident, but not in a "blazing brightly" kind of way. Before, I had plans to write my book and didn't question (much) what would happen after that. Now I worry how I'm ever going to make it good enough to get published and the recognition I so deeply desire. I wonder what I'm really going to be able to do to help survivors. I want to revolutionalize the way our culture views survivors. I want them to understand. In theory, my book would help do that. In theory, the support group I'm trying to start up this semester will be a very small step towards helping that. But even there I feel clueless. What do I know about running a support group? It reminds me of the children's poem by Shel Silverstein:

Whatif

Last night, while I lay thinking here, Some Whatifs crawled inside my ear And pranced and partied all night long And sang their same old Whatif song: Whatif I'm dumb in school? Whatif they've closed the swimming pol? Whatif I get beat up? Whatif there's poison in my cup? Whatif I start to cry? Whatif I get sick and die? Whatif I flunk that test? Whatif green hair grows on my chest? Whatif nobody likes me? Whatif a bolt of lightning strikes me? Whatif I don't grow talle? Whatif my head starts getting smaller? Whatif the fish won't bite? Whatif the wind tears up my kite? Whatif they start a war? Whatif my parents get divorced? Whatif the bus is late? Whatif my teeth don't grow in straight? Whatif I tear my pants? Whatif I never learn to dance? Everything seems swell, and then The nighttime Whatifs strike again!

I guess I'm just in a little bit of a dark place right now.

Like I said, I don't really have much to say here tonight. I just wanted to say I'm here, and once I process whatever it is I'm dealing with, I'll fill you in.

Here's hoping I get some good sleep tonight.

Rachel

Drugs

First of all, I have never tried any kind of illegal substance. I haven't even touched a cigarette. I never really saw the point in either. I also have a near phobia of being drunk. I've only let it happen once, and didn't really care for it.

There was a time in my life when I wasn't really facing my demons. I knew that many survivors of abuse turned to drugs or alcohol, but at the time, I didn't completely understand why.

Confession: Over the last few months, I've come to understand. I've been sick to my stomach, had headaches and chest pain, all unrelated to anything physical. Also, PTSD can leave you feeling really jumpy and agitated sometimes. No, I haven't tried any drugs or turned to alcoholism, but the thought has crossed my mind. There were several occasions when I thought a little pot would really help me relax. I can easily imagine how someone with a history like mine would easily become addicted to a narcotic. Maybe I should rephrase that...I can easily imagine how I could easily become addicted to a narcotic. After all, willpower isn't my strongest point.

On the other hand, I've considered legal drugs as well. So far, I've been doing all of this without anti-depressants or anti-anxiety meds. Simone hasn't suggested them, and I haven't asked. I want to be able to do this without the help of chemicals, but there have been some moments in the past few months when I've felt like an "as needed" Xanax would be helpful. But I've always get through and find the light on the other side. As long as I can keep doing that, I think I can avoid the drugs. I think. 

Things have been tough lately. I remember several months ago when I was feeling very in-touch with my "actual self". I was making great progress and just feeling very balanced and spiritual. I walked a little taller and felt like I had an inner light just bursting out my pores. I had 2 people ask me if I was pregnant because I apparently had a glow or an aura about me. I haven't felt like that in a while now. And I really miss it. Right now I feel bruised and tired and old. I'm still optimistic and feel good about my choices, but right now, it's not fun. My blog got a little quiet for a few weeks (which feels like an eternity to me), but now that I'm writing again, I feel a little better. Usually my mood affects my writing which affects my mood. So if I'm in the wrong state of mind, I just can't find any inspiration, and then I'm irritated which puts me in a worse state of mind!

I guess the point of all this has been just to say that I'm proud that I've made it this far without the help of pharmaceuticals, although I haven't ruled them out completely. I believe there is most certainly a place for those kinds of drugs, although I do believe general practitioners over-prescribe them.

Have any of you had success or a bad experience with mood enhancing prescriptions?

Rachel

Beauty in the Breakdown

I know my last post sounded dramatic. My knee-jerk reaction is to apologize, but in reality, it's exactly what I was feeling and that this blog is about being honest about life after abuse. Moments of depression and anxiety are most certainly a significant part of that.

So I've shared how I felt, by what's more important is why I felt it. There were a lot of things going through my mind the last couple weeks. While each issue played a part in my mood change, there was one hanging over my head that I put off exploring. It struck me that I could be clinging to my label as "Survivor". With all this thought being put into defeating Dad in my mind, I've been forced to consider "What's next?" 

Like anyone else, I am sometimes afraid of change, and I know that there is one on the horizon. But I don't know exactly what that change will look like. Let's say I defeat him. Then what will I write about? Where will I find my inspiration? I've found an incredible amount of strength and inner confidence in the past 7 months or so. Without the pain, what more will I have to overcome? How will I feel strong and centered and inwardly beautiful? At my highest points throughout all this, that is exactly how I felt.

I know this sounds illogical. Why would I want to be in pain? Isn't the point of all this to heal? It certainly is, and of course, I don't want to be in pain. But on some level, it's all I know. Who am I without it? What kind of depth will my character have?

I've always had an overwhelming desire to feel special. Maybe that's part of what made me a good easy victim. I was eager to please, to be the "good child" and that was taken advantage of. However, I've felt like surviving my past without turning to drugs or alcohol or another abuse relationship made me special. Not giving up made me special. Being able to write about all of it made me special. So what makes me special when I'm not dealing with it anymore? When it's all been sorted through? Why should it even matter?

Well, I don't have an answer to that last question. When I figure that out, I'll let you know. However, I have some kind of answer to the rest. As part of my therapy tonight, I went to my happy place to have a pow-wow with my Actual Self. I needed to better understand this new realization and what it would mean for the future. She reminded me that even though I may deal with my past, I'll have learned a whole new skill set in terms of dealing with any of life's pain, because pain is inevitable in all human lives. In fully processing my past and my emotions, I will better be able to identify it in others, and be able to relate to them on a whole other level. If I can learn to write while dealing with all of this, there is no reason I can't write about other things in life later. And speaking of later in life, my Actual Self also reminded me that at different times in my life, I may have a whole new set of things to deal with relating to my past. For example, he may be a free man 2 weeks after my birthday in 2015. The reality of him being able to physically be out in the world again is a scary thought right now. Having children will certainly change things, as I imagine I will struggle with being over-protective and paranoid. So I will need to revisit things from time to time.

Another thing I realized tonight is that defeating my dad in my mind, is really defeating his power over me. I hope that this will make his prison release easier for me to deal with. If I can know in my heart and not just my mind that he is a weak old man, I will feel much safer. 

Today, I am feeling much better. Having explored that feeling has lifted a weight off my shoulders. I know there will be more difficult days ahead, but that's life and that's healing. I'm ready to face the next portion of my path. It looks a little brighter now than it did before. In my imagination, there is a light at the end of the tunnel, and once I reach it, I explode into a burst of colorful light, freed, empowered and ready to fly.

Yeah, it's abstract. Just roll with it.

Thank you to everyone that has been so supportive since I shared how I was feeling. Studdly Hubby has been especially attentive to my "Love Tank" this week and I know I would have sunk much deeper into the dark place had he not. My (2nd) adopted big brother has really had my back as well. He really puts a lot of thought into the words he chooses. Ironically, my first adopted big brother is a lot like him in that sense. What can I say, I know how to pick 'em. :-D Thank you to those of you who shared that you could relate. Feeling special and feeling alone are two very different things, and you helped me feel less alone.

And because I love music (and I <3 Frou Frou):

"Drink up baby doll
Are you in or are you out?
Leave your things behind
'Cause it's all going off without you
Excuse me too busy you're writing your tragedy
These mishaps
You bubble-wrap
When you've no idea what you're like

[Chorus:]
So, let go, let go
Jump in
Oh well, what you waiting for?
It's all right
'Cause there's beauty in the breakdown
So, let go, let go
Just get in
Oh, it's so amazing here
It's all right
'cause there's beauty in the breakdown

It gains the more it gives
And then it rises with the fall
So hand me that remote
Can't you see that all that stuff's a sideshow?
Such boundless pleasure
We've no time for later
Now you can't await
your own arrival
you've twenty seconds to comply"

Have a great weekend!!

Rachel

Deep Inside I'm Bleeding

*(Lyrics below...)

I am in a funk. A deeper funk than I've been in for quite a while. I don't know why and I'm not sure what's wrong. I haven't even felt like blogging lately, and that is very unlike me.

I don't feel inspired to change the world. I feel like there's nothing I can do. I'm only one person. I don't have the focus it takes to make a difference. I've started to write my book and feel completely overwhelmed. I don't even know where to start.

I just feel deeply unhappy right now. I love my husband and I love my job. But none of that is enough to crack through the walls that are keeping me locked up in my dark place. 

I've been feeling like this for a couple weeks. It started gradually but picked up steam this past week. I've been feeling completely rundown and like I was getting sick. I almost started crying at lunch at work the other day. Tuesday night I was feeling miserable with a headache and a sore throat. Wednesday, I spent the whole day in bed, napping and watching TV. I even watched a movie that I thought would help me feel really empowered and I got nothing out of it. Today I just felt completely wiped out and exhausted, just by getting ready for work. Maybe I stressed myself into getting sick. Maybe I was getting sick and feeling down weakened my immune system. I don't know, but feeling sick certainly didn't help anything.

I'm feeling weak, and not just in the physical sense. I usually feel pretty empowered, and in touch with an inner self that feels enlightened and strong. I usually feel like one day, I can do something good for this world. Right now, I'm crying because I feel the exact opposite of all of that. 

I just feel so darn sensitive sometimes, but not to everyone. Facebooking (shut-up spell-check, it's a word!) with my family has been an interesting experience. My sisters and I have different ideas about what is funny. We also have different ideas about what may hurt my feelings. I don't think they leave comments to intentionally hurt me (at least I would hope not), but some things they say really do. If I'm already feeling down and vulnerable and they leave what I perceive to be a rude comment, I feel incredibly alone. I suppose I've always had maternal feelings towards them and did all I could for them when I was home, so when things like that come up, I guess I feel betrayed.

I also feel odd and out of place. I feel different and like no one really knows me other than Studdly Hubby. Maybe that shouldn't matter, but I feel isolated. I don't have many friends out side of work, which is a bad idea. In the workplace, there's only so much you can share, for a variety of reasons. And I'm not saying that's good or bad, but that's the way it is. I also find that I'm over sensitive to appropriate boundaries. My co-workers have shared different things with me about their childhoods and their families, but I'm always a bit apprehensive to put all my baggage out there because I have more than a carry-on and I have sometimes have trouble carrying it all. One of them has a tendency to say "No family is perfect" or something along those lines, and I'm not sure if she means "So what, we've all got our crosses to bear so suck it up" or if she's saying "It's ok, my family has problems too." So between my oversensitivity and amazing skill to over think things, I tend to wait for an invitation to share, and it doesn't always come because that's not always how conversation works.

When I'm doing a depression screen on a new resident, I ask them if they've felt down and depressed or if they feel like a failure. Sometimes, their lip quivers and tears well up in their eyes. I have to try not to cry right along with them. Why isn't my guard up better than that?!

I'm not crying out for sympathy here. I'm just being honest. Maybe a good hard cry is all I need...

*I know this song sounds ripe with teen angst, but I was looking for a song I could relate to right now, and when I listened to this one I started crying, so I think it's a winner:

"Do you ever feel like breaking down?
Do you ever feel out of place?
Like somehow you just don't belong
And no one understands you
Do you ever wanna runaway?
Do you lock yourself in your room?
With the radio on turned up so loud
That no one hears you screaming

No you don't know what it's like
When nothing feels all right
You don't know what it's like
To be like me

To be hurt
To feel lost
To be left out in the dark
To be kicked when you're down
To feel like you've been pushed around
To be on the edge of breaking down
And no one's there to save you
No you don't know what it's like
Welcome to my life

Do you wanna be somebody else?
Are you sick of feeling so left out?
Are you desperate to find something more?
Before your life is over
Are you stuck inside a world you hate?
Are you sick of everyone around?
With their big fake smiles and stupid lies
While deep inside you're bleeding

No one ever lied straight to your face
No one ever stabbed you in the back
You might think I'm happy but I'm not gonna be okay
Everybody always gave you what you wanted
Never had to work it was always there
You don't know what it's like, what it's like"


Rachel