When I was 18 or 19, my mother took away my house key and told me that if I ever stayed out all night again, I would not be allowed to return home.
Of course, probably the very next weekend, I stayed out, knowing that I did not have anywhere to go, no place to live. I slept in my car the first night, then I reached out to the only 2 friends I had, and one of them let me stay the next night, but she was in a new relationship and they wanted their privacy.
The details are fuzzy after that. But that was how my "adult" life began, on my own with no job, no home, and no turning back.
I was alone, adrift on the ocean of life, surrounded by predators who repeatedly abused, robbed, and violated me. Rowing my little life raft madly in whatever direction my emotions led me in, desperately trying to escape the predators circling around me, condemned and terrorized by the critic inside if I dared to stop rowing for one second. I'm so far behind! I'll never catch up! I must look my best at all times!
Earlier this year, after my last consulting job ended, I told that critic to F- off and leave me alone. I was tired of - no, I was fed up with - the cycle of fear-induced adrenaline, do-whatever-it-takes to get a job, gotta be the bestest of the best and maybe they will give me a forever home, and then the soul-crushing rejection when they say, "no... it's not you, it's us." The cycle of severe diet and exercise to return to an acceptable size and weight, according to my absurd standards, measuring myself against only the most impossibly perfect images on magazine covers.
So here I sit, oars in my lap, staring up at the sky, listening to the sounds around me, and the voices inside my head. Feeling the tug of emotions and noticing when I go numb. Wondering why I am still alive. Thankful that I am. Eating whatever I want, and not exercising very much at all. Ignoring the calendar ticking past month after month, bank account evaporating before my eyes. I'm not well, and I know that now, but I cannot continue to pretend I belong in a world that I am unequipped to survive in.
Last week, I decided I had all the pieces I need, to my 10,000 piece jigsaw puzzle that is my mental illness. Right now, they are all in a mixed-up pile on the floor, and I am beginning to turn each piece over, looking at the colors and patterns, putting a couple pieces together here and there. This puzzle has my full attention now, and even if it takes the rest of my life, I will not stop working on it.
I know I will begin to get better soon.
I guess the reason I began that story with how I left home, because I still have that panic feeling every single day. I feel like I'm walking a tightrope without a net. I feel like I'm living life like a skittish horse with the whites of my eyes showing, a nervous wreck trying to figure out how all this works... like do you remember not knowing how to drive a car, did you ever have scary dreams that you had to drive & the car was out of control?
I am still just a child playing grown-up, and it's exhausting, and I'm not doing it right.
I love watching these "Kid Snippets" videos for a giggle, it makes me wonder if they know how I feel???
http://youtu.be/lQxHfeawb1k
Mine feels more like a merry-go-round filled with impossibly competent, successful and pretty people, and it's turning too fast, and I have to jump on but I can't. And I've always felt like I'm with my back to the wall, only there isn't even a wall, so anything might attack me at any time from any direction.
Sorry I didn't reply to your initial post. Your story made my brain bluescreen. I've got kids myself, and your mother's callousness - I just couldn't even begin to find words for it. No wonder you can't feel safe. I guess that event (where she took away your key) was only the tip of the iceberg, and that life wasn't precisely all roses and unicorns for you before that happened. And, like I said, I don't have words. :hug:
I'm glad you're here. Hang in there. I hope the wind will soon be at your back again.
Quote from: schrödinger's cat on December 01, 2014, 08:23:39 AM
Mine feels more like a merry-go-round filled with impossibly competent, successful and pretty people, and it's turning too fast, and I have to jump on but I can't. And I've always felt like I'm with my back to the wall, only there isn't even a wall, so anything might attack me at any time from any direction.
Sorry I didn't reply to your initial post. Your story made my brain bluescreen. I've got kids myself, and your mother's callousness - I just couldn't even begin to find words for it. No wonder you can't feel safe. I guess that event (where she took away your key) was only the tip of the iceberg, and that life wasn't precisely all roses and unicorns for you before that happened. And, like I said, I don't have words. :hug:
I'm glad you're here. Hang in there. I hope the wind will soon be at your back again.
Thank you, cat... you have no idea - well, maybe you do - how much it means to be validated for a change. :hug:
My mother had the outward appearance of a saint. When I was going through my teens, I transformed from being a terrified little girl, into a raging, drinking/drugging delinquent, but all people saw from the outside was my poor victimized mother, and me, the out of control teenager, and nobody ever knew or cared about the abuse I had endured when I was defenseless. I tried to tell a cousin once, and she verbally *-slapped me, telling me how wonderful my mother was and how ungrateful I was, and how dare I say such horrible things that just weren't true. :blink:
That reminds me of a few things I read about from people with narcissist mothers. Several people here mentioned how difficult that is, to have people go "oh, your mother is such a wonderful woman". Do you think your mother could be a narcissist? I'm not saying she is, I don't know narcissism from a hole in the ground... but I'm assuming you could probably tell if a list of symptoms sounds familiar? There's a lot of stuff out there on "narcissistic mothers" or "narcissistic parents", so you probably stumbled upon it already?
I don't know, she may have been, but she has changed a lot. She's 75 now, and for years has been taking prozac, and we really have a good relationship finally after all the pain. She does not act like a npd now, and from what I have read they are unlikely to ever change. So my guess is BPD or CPTSD, but since she keeps things so tightly bottled up, I may never know.
There are some scary skeletons in my mom's family closet. I just learned 2 months ago, that a cousin of mine was sexually abused as a child by one of our older cousins, and my mom recently casually mentioned that her older sister who passed away years ago, had a "nervous breakdown" back in the 60's before I was born. That would be the aunt who spawned the abusers. It really makes me wonder what other secrets have been swept under the rug??? What happened to my mom when she was young that messed her up & she will never talk about it?
I went for my bloodwork yesterday, and confessed that I had already given up on the zoloft, as it made me too sleepy without my ADD meds and too aggravated with them. She very kindly, but firmly recommended that I keep trying, because it takes time for it to take full effect. So I decided to try taking zoloft at bedtime, instead of in the morning with my other meds. I don't know for sure because it's only been one night, but I woke up late today, 9:30-ish, and felt really rested (such a rare feeling!) and all day I have felt ... almost like, happy or something! I'm in a really good mood today, and I feel like doing stuff! Like maybe I'll put some christmas decorations up or something even! I really hope this continues!!
I am so lonely.
Knowing what I know today, having experienced life with mental illness, and with increasing understanding about what it has done to me, I can truly say with complete sincerity that if I were somehow able to choose between mental illness and any one or more physical impairments, I would prefer anything - I would gladly exchange my sight, hearing, speech, or any other combination - for having a sound mind and a chance at real happiness. Disabilities and diseases that affect the physical body are usually not dismissed as hypochondria, or shamed and shrouded in mystery, and there are plenty of examples like Helen Keller who actually go far beyond basic functionality and become sources of inspiration. When has anyone with mental illness been a source of inspiration, rather than an object of pity and judgment?
For 47 years I have been judged by others and myself as being lazy, self-indulgent, self-pitying and under-achieving. I have been mostly silent about my internal struggles because I have learned over time, that nobody will understand, even if they want to. More often than not, they don't. They told me I was fine, and nothing is wrong with me, and wondered why I fell apart over every relationship disaster, why I have no stability, or why I seemed determined to self-destruct with drugs and alcohol in my youth.
I also became skilled at minimizing and suppressing what I think I know about myself in order to fit in, and besides, I had no understanding of how others experience their internal world. I could never articulate, at any level, what I struggled with, because the vocabulary did not exist, and I had no other way to demonstrate or illustrate what I struggled with. So I concluded that there must not be anything "really" wrong with me, and any perceived failure in life must be caused by lack of willpower, lack of discipline, and weakness of character.
Only now, after learning about complex PTSD, do I finally get some validation and evidence that maybe I'm not just a failure. Maybe this is why I've been tapping into the only resource I know about, which is a limited supply of adrenaline fueled by fear and panic and self-loathing, and the well has run dry. This is why I have never stopped seeking encouragement and inspiration from Tony Robbins-style "You can do it! You can be anything!" and part of me has formed a permanent internal dialogue that is simultaneously optimistic and unrealistic. That dialogue has literally saved my life, but it also provides a scaffold that holds my own performance expectations impossibly high. Combining that with with a complete disconnection / dis-association with the passage of time, I am stuck in a persistent state of anxiety, frantically searching for my glass slipper so I may join in the dance with everyone else.
I am so lonely. Loneliness is my twin, conjoined at the heart. I am an only child, raised in an unimaginably remote part of the country. I failed to develop the vital necessary social skills needed to survive in modern society. As much as I was aware of and resented being isolated, it nonetheless became part of who I am. I do not know how much of my current state of loneliness is voluntary. At least some of it is. I find myself more and more easily and unemotionally severing every social connection, one by one, and finding an odd but very real comfort in my self-created isolation. I see clearly that I am re-creating my childhood state, and I know it can't be healthy, but I am stuck in it like quicksand up to my neck. I'm not struggling any more, though. It's like I've realized that I'm not going to sink any further, and I can still breathe and see, and the quicksand is actually warm and comfortable. I will get out someday. Just not today.
Quote from: voicelessagony2 on December 28, 2014, 08:02:03 PM
When has anyone with mental illness been a source of inspiration, rather than an object of pity and judgment?
Marsha Linehan is a hero in the psychology world as she is the creator of DBT. She is self-acknowledged BPD.
http://www.nytimes.com/2011/06/23/health/23lives.html?pagewanted=all&_r=0
And, many people are successful.
http://www.wcvb.com/health/14414700
Thank you Rain.
I guess I knew about some of these people. I have not seen Unbroken yet, but maybe today!
The judgment still hangs over me, I can't shake it easily. Here is why: I started my usual practice of starting with a link someone shared here in OOTS, and pursuing the author or whoever (can't remember at the moment) and following links to see who they are connected with, etc., and ended up finding a question on a blog that just NAILED a topic I have been wrestling with. How to address, or more specifically, how to decide whether or not to address, mental illness in one's professional life and career. The advice given by the blog author, who is a seemingly successful professional in my line of work, communications, who also has mental illness, was to NOT reveal anything because they would definitely be judged by those who are screening candidates.
While I understand why she said that, and I suppose it is sound advice, it still leaves me with confirmation (in my mind, anyway) that there is still shame and judgment about mental illness, and it feeds right into the ongoing dread I feel about my professional future.
Don't get me wrong, it's not like I want to make it part of the title of my resume. "Voiceless Agony - Communications Consultant/CPTSD Advocate" I just want to be unafraid to speak up about it and not have to hide my identity out there in the real world. I want to explain myself to my LinkedIn contacts, why I occasionally go offline. I want to explain my erratic job history and tell those who have worked with me in the past, that there is a real reason for my bizarre behavior, and I am working really hard at getting better.
It seems like all of the examples out there, are people who managed to survive in spite of mental illness, but their primary identity is established in other ways FIRST. Dr. Linehan is awesome, but she is not a household name.
I'm sorry, if it seems that I am just determined to be negative right now. I guess I am just really wrestling with this right now because of my own situation. I am having the mother of all identity crises. How can I sell myself as a professional when I don't even know my favorite color? At this moment, my illness really does define me. It is the only thing I am certain of, and in a weird way if feels kind of good to FINALLY be certain of something!! For the first time, ever!
I just feel like, if I can figure out a way to articulate our experiences in a way that "normal" people can understand, THAT would be an awesome thing for someone who calls herself a communicator to do. Exactly how Helen Keller figured out how to explain to the rest of the world, what it's like to learn to communicate without the benefit of basic senses.
Quote from: Rain on December 28, 2014, 10:38:28 PM
And you summarized it best, voiceless when you write, "my illness really does define me."
It does, and I know that sounds like a bad thing, but it's not. I don't see it as a permanent label, just a snapshot of where I am right now.
Voiceless, ---- oh hey, it's in your user name too, isn't it? The fact that CPTSD makes such a large part of our lives invisible to others, I mean, and what you said about not being able to just say the (full) truth about how we are. --- sorry, I broke off what I wanted to say - I'd typed out your name and went "oh wow". What I wanted to say was, I relate to that. To the loneliness, too. I've let several social connections die down, mostly because I had to avoid triggers, and I'm without friends at the moment. I was so afraid of that while it was starting to happen. But now that it has, it's not as bad as I feared. A bit like you said: that's simply the way it is, right now.
About CPTSD defining us: it's like coming from another country. It's where we start out from, where we live, and what we cope with. Would that fit?
Hi VA - sending you a BIG :hug: I loved the Helen Keller story and if you want to make a similar contribution to raising awareness about CPTSD (making it relatable, understandable), I'm happy to support you. I started the site because like you I was lost and voiceless for so many years, decades really and I kept thinking of all the others out there who had no real recourse. Here we are no longer alone and can make our voices heard.
Quote from: schrödinger's cat on December 29, 2014, 11:11:02 PM
Voiceless, ---- oh hey, it's in your user name too, isn't it? The fact that CPTSD makes such a large part of our lives invisible to others, I mean, and what you said about not being able to just say the (full) truth about how we are. --- sorry, I broke off what I wanted to say - I'd typed out your name and went "oh wow". What I wanted to say was, I relate to that. To the loneliness, too. I've let several social connections die down, mostly because I had to avoid triggers, and I'm without friends at the moment. I was so afraid of that while it was starting to happen. But now that it has, it's not as bad as I feared. A bit like you said: that's simply the way it is, right now.
About CPTSD defining us: it's like coming from another country. It's where we start out from, where we live, and what we cope with. Would that fit?
Ha, I understand about the name. Your name just struck me too, as schrodinger's cat is there and not there, until somebody looks... my voicelessness would be best illustrated by the character Neo in "The Matrix" when he was stuck in that room and they made his mouth disappear... that's exactly how I feel when I get triggered, in arguments with boyfriend or in interviews when they take an aggressive attitude.
I'm also more or less comfortable with the loneliness, although I am quite sure it would be different if I was not in a relationship. I feel like a snake shedding its skin... I'm shedding a worn out, useless persona that is holding me back from my healing journey. Cutting ties this time is not my usual bridge-burning, black and white judgment of people. It's deliberate, and motivated by self-compassion.
Recently I have been having unwelcome thoughts and feelings about myself. I can't even describe it; it comes on quite suddenly, a horrified gasp, and there is an entity posing as "sanity" or "reason" that asks, "What if you are exaggerating all of this? Your childhood was really not that bad. You were not sexually abused by family. You were not beaten. Why are you dwelling on this so-called "trauma"??? What if none of this ever really happened? Why are you accusing your loving mother of being so horrible?"
Deep breath.
I know that is my critic. He is getting sneakier.
I went through this too VA (a noticeable increase in my ICr's voracity as I began to focus on recovery), and as Walker and others suggest I would shout the voice down. To some extent that worked, but it was when I read a post by Milarepa and tried a different tactic that I learned how to really quiet my ICr.
Her post is in here at http://outofthefog.net/C-PTSD/forum/index.php?topic=410.0 and in it she honours her ICr, thanking it for keeping her safe when she could not escape the trauma inflicted on her, and telling it how much she appreciated it, and that she hoped it would keep her safe - but in times of real danger now.
I don't know if it this approach resonates with you, but it helped me tremendously so I thought I'd mention it.
That's what I did too - treat my ICr like a respected and valued minion who means well but has to occasionally be told that his behaviour isn't realistic / acceptable right now. But I wasn't quite aware that this kind of self-doubt could actually be my ICr. I let it go unchecked. Sooo... I think I have another new year's resolution.
Wow Kizzie, thank you for that. I think Milarepa has written a beautiful stepping stone I can use, or a wonderful tool to use for growth. I'm going to keep this on hand!
Tk Milarepa, she came up with it lol. I thought it made complete sense since our IC is a part of us anyway and when it's heathy it can be an important part of our psyches so why not be " firm but friendly"?
I seem to have really struck a vein of creativity when I started making holiday ornaments last month. I can't stop creating, and I'm so excited! I have not been this excited to do ANYTHING since I can remember!
I'm working on a star shaped lantern with intricate swirls cut out. It's black and will have gold transparent for the light to shine through. I'm actually thinking about making this a working hobby & sell stuff on etsy. I'll post a pic when I'm finished & maybe get some opinions.
I feel really really strongly about my creativity being my calling. I want to make lanterns & lighted paper sculptures, and I want to make furniture! For real! We have every type of wood tool imaginable, so why not? I love making things.
I don't want to ruin it by making it into a money thing, though. With my history with money, I'm afraid that I will start to see it as a job and start to hate it.
However, I need to be working to at least earn my keep. I'm starting to feel sincerely bad for my boyfriend having to support me 100% now that unemployment has run out.
Maybe I need to sell my car & learn the bus schedules. I have NEVER been on a bus in this city. The idea scares me to death, but if I could ditch the car payments, WOW ...
I think I just decided my priorities. If I'm going to dedicate myself to crafting, I need to just sell my car, learn bus schedules, and show all this preparation work to my boyfriend so he knows I'm not just becoming a professional freeloader.
I just read your post on feeling overwhelmed by employment goals and here you have tapped into a passion that could turn into something :applause: There are a lot of things you can claim re income tax when you own a business so that's one benefit you might take a look at.
Some of my paper crafts. I have no idea what I'm going to do with them.
Any ideas?
(https://www.cptsd.org/forum/proxy.php?request=http%3A%2F%2Fi.share.pho.to%2F769582a5_c.png&hash=78f1ac603fc0dc96d27eb9707aaab173d8ae21ff)
(https://www.cptsd.org/forum/proxy.php?request=http%3A%2F%2Fi.share.pho.to%2Fd87fd219_ss.jpeg&hash=58e4953d47a91fad5f30702c2180078e1dc94c50)
(https://www.cptsd.org/forum/proxy.php?request=http%3A%2F%2Fi.share.pho.to%2F22f6ac3e_ss.jpeg&hash=680fe66952527db41d3e629cbcb46691e8f3a6e2)
This is going to be a star lamp, not quite finished yet.
(https://www.cptsd.org/forum/proxy.php?request=http%3A%2F%2Fi.share.pho.to%2Ff4120acc_ss.jpeg&hash=fffe3d79f7e171e6134727d5051d4c2de57e3597)
Those are just freakin' awesome!
:yeahthat: :applause:
Awareness is over rated.
In my profession, change management, every change process starts with "Awareness" and there is an acronym like ADKAR which means Awareness, Desire, Knowledge, Action, Reinforcement, or something like that.
So I woke up this morning and the word "Awareness" with all the different meanings and uses of that word, and a little rhyme popped in my head:
I am aware
But I don't care
I feel despair
That I'll never get there.
Self-expression is an overwhelmingly difficult thing for me.
I learned at a formative stage of development (2 - 3 yrs old, if not before) that self-expression, i.e. complaints, pain, sadness, etc., was prohibited under threat of punishment. This instilled at a deep fundamental level, a profound fear of ALL self-expression. I became quiet. I lived inside my own head. With no siblings, and living in extreme isolation, I never had anyone to talk to.
Then, in high school, I was publicly shamed and ostracized for inadvertently starting a scandal. I shared a secret about my best friend with a girl who I used to play with when we were the only 2 kids within a 50 mile radius. The scandal spread like wildfire the very next day and reached the entire school. I was accused of lying by the school counselor when I tried to explain the truth - that I only told my one close friend. The other girl implicated in the scandal threatened - and made plans - to physically hurt me in retribution.
To this day, I struggle to find my voice. I have so much to say! I want to write a book, articles, blog, podcast, video... but I am trapped inside my own mind. I'm lost at the bottom of a dry well. Nobody knows I'm here. I try to scream, but the only sound I make is a whisper, and nobody in today's loud, fast, aggressive society can be bothered to listen to a whisper.
:bighug: You sound like you're in immense emotional pain, and have been for most of your life. I'm glad that you're again and again taking the leap and telling us your side of the story. You have so much to say, and it's all worth hearing. :applause:
It seems to me that you are most definitely finding your voice now and that's wonderful! :hug:
Quote from: schrödinger's cat on January 23, 2015, 07:49:27 PM
:bighug: You sound like you're in immense emotional pain, and have been for most of your life. I'm glad that you're again and again taking the leap and telling us your side of the story. You have so much to say, and it's all worth hearing. :applause:
Thank you cat :)
I keep trying. I feel safe here. It's good to have a place to whisper. :)
Quote from: Kizzie on January 23, 2015, 07:59:56 PM
It seems to me that you are most definitely finding your voice now and that's wonderful! :hug:
Kizzie,
Thanks... I am only doing that here in OOTS, right now... I want to find other places and other ways to speak up, but I don't know how to start... but this is good practice!
It is good practice isn't it?! :yes: The first while that I posted at OOTF was so unnerving and I remember having EFs because I just felt so vulnerable, like someone was going to yell at me (enter the ghosts of my FOO).
I'm able to be much more open now and credit that to being at OOTF and now here. I must admit though that I still have moments when I feel uneasy about a post and want to hide :spooked: I have to remind myself I am in a safe place and that's it a good (healthy) thing to use my voice.
FWIW you might want to try posting in one of the forums in the Guest Centre about what you'd like others to know about your experience and needs/wants re CPTSD. No pressure or anything, it's just an opportunity for some more practice. :bigwink:
I'm working up to that. I want to write something to post in there, but I'm not sure how to describe what I want to say... it's not a fearful thing, I just want to be coherent, and right now I'm just not sure how to say what I want to say.
Does that make sense?
It does Voiceless (make sense). Sometimes I find it it takes forever to write a post and I go over it and over it because I can't quite capture what it is I want to say. Comes from not being heard for so long I guess. Thinking something in your head and getting it down is a bit of an art.
I'm so glad you understand.
I'm really surprised at myself, in a good way, that I've been somewhat consistently journaling. That's always been tough for me, but I totally understand why it's important and I see firsthand the benefits beginning to happen.
I know I have an excellent writer in me, somewhere. I can't wait to get some of this blockage chipped away, and start telling my stories!
I'm angry at the whole world right now.
I'm sick of trying to get what I want from R. and maybe it's not deliberate, but it is predictable and systematic, the way he shuts down every single attempt at any communication I initiate. Every time I share some progress I have made with my most difficult inner struggles, he responds by saying, "I TOLD you that a long time ago!!! If you would just listen to me, you would already know that! I'M so frustrated that you won't listen! You never listen to me!" That was his response when I told him that I was excited because I caught a ANT - automatic negative thought - which really is a big deal to me, because they are SO automatic that they just blend in with the swirling fog of emotions and non-negative thoughts... it's like learning about a nearly invisible insect, and seeing one for the first time in the wild, and actually CATCHING it... but of course, it's one thing for me to find the words for such a vivid description now, when I have time to sit down, alone with my thoughts, and write, as opposed to responding in the moment, for me literally impossible because my brain has been hijacked by a full blown EF.
This is how he responds to every goddamn thing I say to him, no matter what topic, no matter how benign or even positive. He refutes, disputes, and disagrees with everything as a matter of foregone conclusion. If it's coming out of my mouth, it is presumed to be wrong. So, even if I try to tell him exactly that, (that he disagrees with everything) he disagrees with THAT, completely missing the irony, and I am declared to be "wrong." He will defend his own character to the death of this relationship, because I cannot ask him to change anything about himself, or the way he communicates with me.
I've tried writing down things I want to say to him in emails or printing them out, and he won't read them. Or, if he does, he won't respond, either in writing or verbally. When I ask him if he read it, he says "Why can't you just talk to me about it? I don't have time/I'm too tired/etc. to read stuff like that."
I'm sick of trying to fix myself all day, every day, with no emotional support from him. And it would seem that I'm trying to fix this relationship by myself, too.
I had a migraine that lasted for 3 full days that started last Friday. I was out of medicine. I woke up Friday with the migraine (about a level 3 on a scale of 1 to 10, with 10 being the worst), but didn't say anything until around mid-day Saturday, when I just couldn't take it any more, and it had increased to about a level 5. I searched through my papers until I found the rx I got a couple weeks ago, and I had to ask him for money to get it filled. He said, "Are you serious? I just spent $100 ordering some meds (from overseas), it will be here in a few weeks! Are you sure you really need this right now? You don't seem to be in pain, you've been doing stuff around the house, you don't act like you are in pain???" Eventually he gave in and I got my meds. But, another nail in the coffin.
He also took back the credit card he had given me, which I was using for gas and food. I was being as responsible as I knew how to be, only buying food to cook dinners with, not using a lot of gas - not difficult for me, as I would rather not leave the house anyway - but he still thought I was spending too much, and took it away. Surprisingly, I wasn't even upset at the moment, and we had a calm discussion, but I'm really disappointed with the outcome. Here's why: When he gave me the card, he never gave me any limit or guideline, like a dollar amount per week or whatever to shoot for, so I just shopped for food as I always have. After we talked, I had to admit, that I had never bothered to compare prices at different grocery stores. (I know, basic stuff, but I've never done this... money has always been overwhelming and confusing to me.) HOWEVER, I'm aware enough to know that with no income, I cannot keep buying non-essentials like alcohol, snacks, sodas, (I even gave up my Monster addiction!) so that stuff was already off the table. All I needed (but it did not occur to me to ask for) was for him to give me a number, like, if he had said at the beginning "Keep it around $100 a week" I would have done whatever it took to stay in that limit. So he made this decision in his own mind, and told me that he would give me $100 in cash, plus $30 for gas or whatever. I told him fine, whatever, but all you had to do was tell me. His response was to tell me that he shouldn't have to tell me, that I should have been able to "figure it out" or whatever, what the limit was.
So that, to me is unacceptable. Not the fact that he took his credit card away, but the fact that I was supposed to GUESS what my spending limit was. And even now, after we talked, he is unwilling to give me the card WITH the agreed-upon guidelines.
Sometimes I think about the men you see on TV and movies that just assume that the women they marry or live with are going to cost them lots of money, and those women go shopping for clothes, buy stuff for their kids, and the men just work harder to earn more money for their family. Is that even real? How is it that I have never once experienced anything anywhere close to that?
And then I think about the countless Sundays in church, listening to the preachers talk about how evil money is, how it's easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to go to heaven. They tell this to a building full of working-class people, in a church that cost more than any of them could imagine spending on a house, and being asked to give 10% of their blue collar wages to "the Lord."
Money, like food, becomes toxic to some of us with mental illness - necessary for survival, but also a source of shame, binging and purging, anorexia, and the equivalent of body image distortion (unable to judge amount), and we need help to learn how to use it in a healthy way. Maybe religion didn't cause my money disorder, but it didn't help.
I grew up doing everything I was told to do. I got good grades, I kept my mouth shut, I never cried or complained. In my early teens I became painfully aware of my appearance, and transformed myself from a neglected, nerdy, awkward child to a trend savvy, fashion conscious young lady. I taught myself to shove my insecurity and shame deep, paste on a smile, and put my best face out there, for fear someone would see the real me. Dress for success.
Later in life, I got a degree, and my panic-fueled drive pushed me to constantly reach for better and better jobs, and I managed to advance in my career.
(Can anybody else see the irony of working so hard to look the part, and being so successful at doing so, that nobody will listen or believe you when you try to tell them something is wrong?)
It was always easy for me to figure out what people wanted to hear in interviews, and giving convincing, oscar-worthy performances became second nature. Maybe I should have been an actor??? Then, every job I landed got my 100% best effort to do what they asked, or more, and every time I (apparently) missed something important that nobody would ever tell me so I could fix it next time. After every job, I spent months in confusion and depression.
I'm outraged when I look back at my life, and how many times I have been begging, crying out for attention in so many different ways... first, drugs and alcohol, promiscuity, loud music, etc., and then later going to therapist after therapist, family and friends, trying to tell them SOMETHING IS WRONG WITH ME. For the first 18 years, I was blamed. I was just a rotten teenager, or I didn't pray hard enough. Then, the remaining of my 47 years, the only answer I got was, a pat on the head and "Oh, sweetie, there is NOTHING WRONG WITH YOU. You are a beautiful young (not hearing that so much any more, ha!) lady, you are intelligent, you are creative, why would you think such silly things?" So, on one hand I'm told there is nothing wrong with me, but on the other hand, nobody wants to work with me & won't tell me why.
So here I am, nearly a year after my last job. I deliberately chose not to get back on that insane merry-go-round. I continue to choose to ignore all that "cheerleader" advice that works so well for many, but right now, it threatens to divert my attention and energy away from recovery. "You can do anything! Never give up! Shoot for the moon!" No. Not now. I have taken the red pill and I see that I must stop and breathe. I must remove myself from that cycle of madness until I can proceed with a plan, and I can figure out where I am going.
Right now, I think I am in a very fearful state.
I'm not sure if it's fear, but I feel frozen. I had no goals today, nor yesterday, and now I feel like I'm doomed. I feel a sense of failure. How can I be simultaneously apathetic and anxious? I chose to do some writing today, some reading, listened to podcasts, but I blew off grocery shopping and house cleaning. I washed the dishes but the floor is disgusting.
I am convinced I will never know what it is like to earn money and make good decisions with it. I will be dependent on R or my mom until one of us dies. What is the point?
Where is this fear coming from?
VoicelessAgony, I deeply empathize with you and your situation. I also have had a lot of experience with crazy mixtures of emotions that feel so endless and overwhelming. And I have always felt a lot of anger about this. And my anger always caused more complications. Not that I could stop it.
Nowadays I find that crying does indeed usually help me calm down and give myself a little compassion. I do hope you can find some compassion for yourself as you weather your situation. I send you lots of hugs. . . . . :hug: :hug: :hug: :hug:
Thank you Trees. Thanks for the hugs. :hug:
Made me smile a little. :-)