Living As All of Me

[NarcKiddo]

I find boundaries, conflict very stressful, painful and even triggering. But maybe boundaries, taking a stand, NO are essential parts of being oneself, parts of me.

Same. Thank you for saying this because I need to hear it.

I'm sorry you are scared and sad and had a falling out with your therapist.

 

[HannahOne]

Thank you NarcKiddo! I really appreciate the support.

This sucks.

thank you for reading and responding. Means a lot.

[HannahOne]

Thank you, Chart. I really appreciate the support. There is definitely commitment and love here, and understanding. Feeling grateful. And sad.

[HannahOne]

Back at you, TheBigBlue!    

[sanmagic7]

i echo everyone's thoughts, hannah1.  falling out w/ your therapist can be so painful, can make us question ourselves to the nth degree.  i do believe conflict, boundaries, etc. are on the path to being our very own selves, but i also know it takes practice.  i think the more we believe in ourselves as people, the more we are comfortable with that notion, the easier it gets.  maybe not to the point where we enjoy confrontation/boundary setting, but at least to the point where we know it's important for reclaiming our 'selves' and we do it for that reason.

we're here w/ you.  love and hugs

[HannahOne]

Thank you, Sanmagic7. "i think the more we believe in ourselves as people," very interesting. To believe in myself. As a people. I have to believe in myself, believe I'm real, I count, I matter, I know my own mind. 

[HannahOne]

*****************TRIGGER WARNING emotional abuse language

How do I know who I am? Who do you say that I am? I think, therefore I am. I am what I am. Who am I?

Who decides?

Do I define myself?

What role does feedback from others play in my self-understanding?

How can I see my own blind spots?

I was given a problematic identity. Both golden and scapegoat simultaneously in an insane split, then by age 7, no more golden. Only goat.

In the wider family, still golden, first to go to college, the one who made it out.

Then, survivor guilt.

Fraud.

Imposter.

How to be white trash from nowhereville and elite at the Ivy League. How to be a mother and a boss lady. How to be creative and within the lines. Within the lines and not basic. Ambitious, and easy going. Clear, and complex. Self-hating, and loving to others. Bruised inside, and just grateful to be here. Broken, and fine, thanks.

I had to contain these opposites, these extremes.

So yeah, I fragmented.

But I never left myself. In a haze of fists, I didn't float above myself. I retreated to a ball the size of a dot, inside. Inside me.

I didn't let anyone take any part of me. I didn't kill off any part of me. I shut some down, sure. I compartmentalized.

But I know my own mind.

Because of how I grew up I have always had a fierce insistence on who I am.

I took in "slut," "sinful," "stupid." I introjected the abusers with their cruel judgements and impossible demands and ruthless attacks.

But I also have my self. That knows my own mind. That went into a tiny ball the size of a dot inside. That told me where to go, what to do. Told me to freeze, to run, to smile, to agree, to play dumb, to plot, to plan. That assessed the abusers for what they were. Clear-eyed.

And I have parts, fragmented parts that never could cohere because of these irreconcilable, nonsensical opposites, because I had to contain these impossible dilemmas, because I refused to cut off or kill off any part of me.

That's trauma.

I know my own mind. I know who I am.

Other people may not understand. They see symptoms and think sickness. I see survival mechanisms and think safety, sanity, success.

I guess I wish I could live otherwise. It seems pleasant to be simple. I guess I wish I weren't so polarized inside. I'd like to be able to just put my foot on the gas and go where I want to go, instead of gas and brake at the same time. I'd like to be less conflicted, less complicated. I don't know what that's like.

I can't change that, I can't undo it. You can't unring a bell. What I can do is work toward inner attachment, interior relationship, more cooperation inside. I'm enjoying a lot more inner quiet these days.

But if you put me under stress or threat, it gets loud, a lot of conflicting perspectives, the cracks show, parts get more rigid, or under enough pressure I may momentarily retreat to a little ball the size of a dot inside. Don't worry, I'll be back. I'm still in here. I haven't left. I may get very quiet, because inside it's very loud.

Because I internalized my abusers, and polarized my mammalian defenses, because that's how I survived.

Oh well? C'est la vie? So what?

That's my own mind. I know it. That's All of Me.

[sanmagic7]

knowing your own mind, knowing you - to me, that's huge.  that you've never given it up, hannah1, shows not only the depth of your strength but of your determination to continue being you, being on this earth, taking up the space you're entitled to as one whole person.  even as splintered as you may feel at times, i see a whole hannah1.  i'm so glad you've never given her up.  love and hugs

[NarcKiddo]

So much food for thought here. Thank you for your post.

[HannahOne]

SanMagic, thank you for seeing the whole of me

NarcKiddo, thank you for reading and commenting. Solidarity.

[HannahOne]

Today I made seven medical appointments for testing in preparation to guide my treatment. Every day for the next month I have either PT, a lab test, or a doctor appointment. Yay, I guess. It took me this long to be able to do it. I still feel disoriented. I hope I will be able to do the appointments. Whenever I open the patient portal I feel like I'm going to lose control of my bowels. My heart flip flops. I don't want to look at it. Tomorrow morning I will talk to an old friend about my current thinking and get some perspective. I wish I had parents I could ask. Or even internal parents I could trust, that I could check in with. I have no ballast, no rudder in the storm. HannahOne, face to the wind.

Here I am. I am surprised to come to late midlife and realize the continual drag... thirty years ago I imagined that by this age, all the trauma would be resolved, I'd be free. Heh heh. Instead I find everything sling and arrow seems to add to the overall trauma load and I'm somehow, after all this work and healing, weaker than I was at age ten. Less able to perform, more easily unsettled, more full of self doubt, more confused. As a ten and twenty year old I was wild with hope. Now, nope. Weird.

But as a middle aged adult, I have some options. I'm planning a hiking and camping trip. I want to be just me in the wilderness. Well, me and my sibling. And a big pit bull from the streets of Santa Clarita. Yeah. I want to just have what I can carry on my back. A spork. A water bottle. A tent. A sleeping bag. Some freeze dried curry lentils and a collapsible water bowl for the dog. I want to lay on the ground with a high R value pad between it and me for my old bones and with the dog between me and the door of the tent. I want to move through a landscape under my own power. I'm working really hard in PT and every other day adding a few pounds to the weights. My body is changing. I feel stronger. The knee pain is much less. Another 6 weeks for full potential ligament healing.

The therapist wants to reconsider my treatment plan. Ok. I'm thinking about my goals. Two years ago when I Started this therapy my goal was to get out of bed. Half the sessions had to be zoom because when the time came I couldn't get up. Now I show up fabulously attired if I don't say so.... now my life is so much better. But I'm still really isolated. COVID did a number. I still cry every day, I feel so un-centered, lost, confused. What is the point? Why am I here? How can I make it worth it? What am I even doing? What should I be doing? I dont know what to do....

I don't know where to go. It's a luxury to have such a problem. I don't have to punch a clock, partner can carry us. Which is good, because while I can show up to therapy, I can't be under a boss, and can't seem to use my brain to work right now, brings up too many issues. And my body can't do labor. Lucky me. My whole family worked in the steel mill, took in laundry, farmed turnips in the backyard, lived without running water. I stretch and yawn. Lucky, lucky me. Right? Right? It's a privilege to have the time and money and energy to unravel the trauma they carried and invested in me. A privilege to think about "my goals for treatment." Right?

My goals so far:
Hire the PT to do personal training once PT runs out. He can also help post surgery.
Go to new art studio and see what happens.
Continue "Swedish death cleaning" to take charge of my space and so that we can relocate once kid graduates. I can't have things I can't move or manage myself. I want a lighter life. Unload stuff.
Find a mentor to continue painting training.
Find a context in person to be with other people at least weekly. A hiking group, a book group... ?
Find a volunteer opportunity in person.
Figure out what to do with my small business and find a new career goal if I want to close it.

These are my personal goals to continue finding some happiness and making a life worth living. I don't know what her treatment goals for me will be. TBD. Hope it won't become a fight. Sometimes therapists get fascinated. Or invested in their own ideas. Or scared. C'mon lady. If I can do it, you can do it.

 

[sanmagic7]

i like your cheer and encouragement at the end, hannah1     absolutely!  sounds like you've made a lot of progress, even if at times it doesn't seem that way to you.

keep going, my friend.  i'm being inspired all over the place from people here.  love and hugs

[NarcKiddo]

Wow. Every day for the next month...Seven medical appointments arranged in one day. I take my hat off to you. I know there is little choice but this is really impressive. I totally get why opening the patient portal is a bit - 'squeaky bum time' as we say in the UK. I'm glad you have an old friend you can talk things through with.

Your goals sound great. Varied and well-rounded. I can say from personal experience that a PT is worth his weight in gold immediately post surgery. Mine was really helpful to me after gallbladder removal and tailored my exercises perfectly. It helped massively that he already knew me - because he knew what I was capable of, which includes overdoing things massively in a bid to recover fast. Sometimes he would show up just to stop me doing things. And after pneumonia when I could barely walk, but needed to, he would come to take me for a walk. Yeah, like a dog. But I felt confident walking with him because I knew he could pick me up if I fell. I never did fall but I walked more than I would have on my own.

[HannahOne]

NarcKiddo, squeaky bum time lol!    In the US it can move a lot quicker if you have good insurance and I'm lucky to have it and live in a metro area which I do. Not as easy for everyone for sure. I'm lucky.

I am hopeful about the PT! It really helps to have someone's guidance and accountability, and as you described, they "know what you are capable of"... I get anxious about reinjuring myself as I have weak collagen, and it really helps to have someone saying I can do it---or, to back off for now. Someone to pick you up if you fall enables you to take more risks. Something we didn't have as kids, the feeling that someone has your back. So we really need that feeling now. That's amazing that he came to your house!

[HannahOne]

Thank you SanMagic7! I was thinking about that, how the forum inspires us, reading others' journeys, including the struggles. It's something maybe we didn't get enough of as kids, mirroring, or twinning, or shared experience, shared knowing. Something to put us into context, a healthy context not the context of a dysfunctional unit.