Living As All of Me

[sanmagic7]

it sure can be a wearing experience, hannah1, to find a new T.  my present T, when i told her i've had therapist trauma, asked me what i needed from a T.  i laid out a whole list, then asked 'can you do that?', and she said, 'yes, i can.'  and we've gotten on swimmingly since then.  but that's been the exception.  usually, i've had some red flags from the first or second session that i put in a 'wait and see' box, and every time (except for the very first one, when i had no knowledge or experience) those flags were correct, and i ended the relationship.  the very first one was the damaging one cuz i wasn't able to recognize red flags at the time, and it was disastrous.

but you know.  8 weeks is a fair trial.  more than fair, actually.  we usually know sooner, and you already had signals talking to you about her.  i hope this next one, who sounds like someone i could relate to, turns out really well for you.  therapy is difficult enough w/o the added whatevers that go into finding someone to have therapy with.  best to you.  love and hugs

[HannahOne]

Dollyvee thank you so much for sharing your experience. It helps to know I'm not the only one who struggles to find a good fit. SM7, thank you for sharing too. It's a challenge. I am searching for something, someone. Someone who will help me search for me. And feeling a bit hopeless that anyone will find me. Wondering if and how I could just find myself, on my own.

I haven't gotten out of bed. So here I am being accountable LOL. It's three hours past when I should have gotten up. So I'm going to get up now before I lose the day. I was supposed to work out, shower, eat, go to art therapy, stop by the grocery store, and pack for my city studio.

I will work out and shower then eat and leave the house. Even if I only lift weights for 10-15 minutes that's enough.

I am feeling very alone, lost, invisible. I want a therapist to help reverse that. The idea that I am held in someone's mind helps me. Of course the therapist only may think of me once between appointments, I know that, but other parts of me like the imaginary projection that someone is holding me in mind. I wish I could hold All of Me in mind. Hold myself together. Sometimes it feels like a kind of failure to need therapy. I just come back to, if I had a mother this wouldn't be a problem. Who knows if that's true.

TW physical abuse. I am having a lot of memories come up, nothing horribly distressing, I find it interesting that these pieces are coming to me. I remember playing hide and seek with my mother in the mall. I was probably four or so. I hid in the middle of a circular clothes rack. I Was so thrilled and it was very intense, I was so interested in it, I was waiting at top level excitement for her to find me. I heard her calling me and waited.... I don't recall how I was found, I think I came out eventually. And she lifted me off the ground with one hand and spanked me with the other. I guess that could be distressing I'll go put a trigger warning. Anyway the point is not the spanking, it's that I was hiding. And she wasn't happy to find me. I'm sure she was, she was scared, and her adrenaline got the best of her. I get it. But as a child, I was crushed, confused, it was like gas pedal and brake at the same time. I wanted her to be delighted to find me, I thought we would both laugh and she might hug me, in my fantasy she would have picked me up and spun me around. That's not how it went. Disorientation, confusion, terror, shame. Hopelessness. We cannot connect. I am alone.

It led me to think about how I'm still so often hiding. Hiding behind words, names, hiding in bed, hiding in the deep freezer at work, hiding in the bathroom. go all the way to therapy and then realize I'm hiding, I'm talking but it's not connected, I'm not looking at their face.

When I have a good therapeutic relationship, I feel like someone is seeing me. I hide less, and I hide less from myself.

I want to be found. I want to find me, All of Me. I want to be delighted and not furious with what I find, even if at times I feel terror, where am I, where am I? and fear what has happened to me.

I also enjoy the game, I think, in the sense that I hide because I want to be found. In the memory, I wasn't hiding in fear, I was hiding for the joy of the reconnection. I wonder how much of that could still be true? Or how much of the hiding now is out of fear? In the memory I hid from her because I thought it would be fun, I liked the experience of being searched for. Maybe that's a way I experienced care, since she was so often unaware of my existence. I came up with a way to get her to focus on me, to seek me. I liked that feeling of her calling for me and I was also so excited for her to find me.

In what ways do I still do this? are parts of me hiding and enjoying my search? I think that's one thing I enjoy about therapy that keeps me coming back, if the therapist is trying to see me, trying to find me, calling to me with their clothes or face, as opposed to the kind of therapist who wants to think about my and find the right tool to fix me.

And if I were to find myself, be found, how could I be delighted? Can I give myself this delight? On being found, I would want me to be thrilled to hug me and connect with me, hooray, all is righted! This is a feeling I sometimes get when the therapist understands, associates to something that expresses my dilemma.

Lying in bed is not looking for myself. Hiding in bed is hiding from my responsibilities, from my goals, my hopes, from the world and myself. Getting out of bed is seeking someone who will look for me. Even if the one looking for me is me. I have to be willing to enjoy this dance of hide and seek and not hate myself for it, not be enraged at myself, not think that if only I would stop hiding I would get on with my shopping. The hide and seek IS the dance, is the love and connection.

Part of me thinks connection is just glomming on permanently. But I can't skip to the end and the hug, the hiding is somehow important. Is my dance disorganized, unhealthy? It's not push and pull, it's hide and seek. Frank does it, it's approach and retreat. It's pendulated attachment. I pass his room and he runs to his box. I say I see you there! but don't stare like a locked in predator, I look side eye, look away. He pokes his nose out. Pulls back. Hops one hop out, pulls back. Now he often just runs over when I pass by because he feels so safe. I don't feel so safe. With myself and the world. So I do a lot of hide and seek and a lot of approach and retreat. When I do find myself, I want to be sure it's with delight and not reprimand, "where were you, why do you do this, we had work to do, you're such a problem..." No. I want to say "I FOUND you! Hooray!" and then let myself run off again. 

I need to ponder this more, but not today.

I am hoping to go find myself on the yoga mat. I go.

[NarcKiddo]

This may not be at all relevant, but your description of Frank hiding reminded me of one of my guinea pigs. He would run to hide in his house, but he just put his head inside. As far as he was concerned he was hidden because he could not see me, but his big, round, backside was poking out of the door. It was really cute. Maybe it would be good to explore the possibility of less good hiding places, in case they would do the job?

[HannahOne]

NK that's hysterical about the guinea pig. Sometimes part of me does the same, if I pretend I'm invisible, no one can see me! Then when someone says hello, it's like a jump scare!

I am still fighting some level of inertia. Depression or refusal, I don't know what to call it. It's partly being alone, I don't have the psychic energy to live without people to bounce off of, but I'm the leader here. And I'm tired.

But I'm also starting to think of it differently. I frame the problem as "I can't make myself do the things." but maybe many of the things I'm doing are things I shouldn't do or don't need to do.

No one I know spends as much time as I do futzing around the house. I am considering again a declutter of the house. In 2018 I really decluttered. Then came the pandemic and hoarding of canned food, paper towels and just general online ordering of dopamine to keep the kids entertained during lockdown. It's not bad, but it's more than I want and need now with the kids being grown or almost. The declutter will be tiring. But forcing myself to keep moving things around is not what I want to be doing with my time. I would like to focus in on just the things I use. I can't make the kids get rid of things but they may be willing to pack some away. And some of it is mine or mine to decide. For example I have an entire cabinet devoted to art supplies for them which was magical for the 15 years that in the evening while I made dinner they sat and painted, collaged, talked about their day. But those days are past. I could empty the cabinet.

I also have more books than I need I haven't been able to read on paper in 7 years.

And I need to attend some more meetups. Some of this is some isolation. No spark.

[HannahOne]

A pickle. A conundrum. A situation.

Holding Frank and massaging his ears, he breathes extremely rapidly. Is he afraid, or excited? I really think he is excited. He absolutely loves to be scritched and scratched. And, the line between excitement/wanting and fear/not wanting is thin for him. I have to be careful and aware and make sure that every moment I'm tuned in. Scratching, but not TOO much. He can get overstimulated, shake his head and hop down. Have to scratch just right.

I want to be cared for. I want to be nurtured. Not taken care of, necessarily, more cared for, cared about. Thoughtfully brought a nice juice. A hand massage. Be squeezed. Listened to.

Yet I find these things so difficult to allow.

And often I push it away. Part of me does.

I'm left feeling so much sadness, pain, longing, and missing.

I think it's true that nothing that happens here and now can resolve what happened there and then. What happens now can't seem to touch the loss, sadness, grief, unmet needs of the past.

AND

I think it would be nice if I could receive some care here and now.

Instead it seems like I in some way perpetuate the deprivation and alienation of the past.

To receive care now also touches on the wound, plays those strings, and that hurts too.

It is wrong to say no one cares, because I have...4 long distance friends, a nearish friend, and a current family plus a sibling all of whom care. Very much. And it's so common and easy for me to think "no one cares," to feel totally alone and uncared for.

I want to give myself what I need. Both the parts of me from the past that were so neglected. And also me now, the adult who doesn't feel happy living in an isolated way.

So many of my "plans" to have "structure" still somehow don't involve people, or don't involve people directly. I'm out "among" the people but I'm not necessarily interacting. I go here, there, but alone. I'm going away on a short vacation---alone.

The next step would be to do some meetups. Or invite some people. Or go to a group activity like a book club, a partnered dance class, a group hike.

And then there's this man in my house who would be happy to hold me. But I feel it would be too sad. Somehow it would not meet the need or touch the hurt. And that would be even sadder.

I know these are younger parts of me, parts that are too young to have a husband, who want a mother's care. I am a mother. And I feel a bit helpless in the face of them. I make the right noises, say the right things. But it's so difficult for them to receive. Maybe I'm just too blended.

With Frank, I have to slow way down. I have to first attune to him. It's very subtle. Hard to describe. It's getting very quiet and slowing down inside, not thinking. Being fully present. There's a flow of energy like an infinity symbol that loops through him, to me, to him. You can also feel when it's interrupted, when he wants space, a break, or when he leans into it, or when he adds his own theta waves to it.

I can do it with an animal. So much harder with a human. I just don't feel safe. Still. I feel afraid and ashamed before my husband of thirty years, and he's a good man. I just can't let him see my pain and need.

So I'm alone.

I know there's a way through this pickle. Frank is equally proud in his way. He will flick me off with his hind feet, he has to raise his head up and down ten times before settling in. Sometimes he just wants to get down, or hops away so I can't pick him up. When he wants to be picked up, he melts into it and becomes like butter. When he doesn't want to be cuddled, he tenses and hops from my hands. Sometimes he just doesn't want to open that Pandora's box with a human, sometimes be prefers to keep his own counsel. Maybe I also have moods and modes. I hopped away today. I'm so tired of being sad and feeling this old pain. And, maybe that's what All of Me needed today and no current cuddling adult to adult would help.

It can be confusing having so much old pain. It's hard to know what's now and what's from the past and it's a lot to manage. It feels like the pain will never end but I know it will. It came on very suddenly. I think in part it's sinking in my kid is moving out, it's just a change, a good change. But a big change to the system that came suddenly. Kid won't let me help pack, and I"m left to wring my hands, did I do enough, do they have enough, was it all enough? And my younger is away. So less distraction from myself, more focus on myself. And I myself am packing! LOL. For my time in the city. A lot of leaving and letting go, which is a trigger. My dad was a traveling salesman and watching him pack was always such a mixed bag, literally. I used to make little paper clothes and implements for him to take, some kind of weird double, a spell, voodoo copies of what he already had. I don't know what that was about. I wanted him to leave, and I was terrified until he returned, with food. I didn't want him to leave and gripped his leg and sobbed, and he peeled me off and went; then I didn't want him to come back; And, stay out! The disorganization of the attachment was deliberately created. Passive voice. He deliberately created a disorganization in the attachment for his own reasons.

So all these shifts in the attachments in my current family might be triggering. And, the lack of a therapist is getting to me. I can feel it. It's been months now, a year? a little over a year that I can't find a relationship that works. Hoping this city one will work but it takes time to build it. To have the transference. To have the enactment. Then the repair. THEN the work begins. Ugh. And I hurt right now. But there's no bandaid for this, I know.

It's late and I didn't eat dinner. I don't know what to eat. I guess I'll have an apple and peanut butter and hope to sleep. Took sleep meds, pain meds, everything I'm supposed to take. I would like to watch a movie but I don't know what and that too, I both want to, it could be comforting and also I don't want to, I watched a lot of TV alone as a kid. There's just nothing that feels like it will be comforting to whatever this activated pain is. So I will just endure it until it passes. Frank is hunched in his corner, eyes open but half asleep in his always vigilant crepuscular state. I am hunched in bed, suitcase by the door, my journal and drawing stuff and paints and outfits and 7 pairs of shoes for 5 days because Frank knows, we have to have the right vibe to the outfit, we cannot have class without edge, we cannot have edge without ease, it all must be balanced just so to express All of Me, out and about, and taking this sadness, this disconnection and sense that no one cares, with me.

The decision is carrots and hummus, avocado on a tostada, AND apple with peanut butter. I'm ashamed that I'm eating close to midnight, that I'm off schedule, that I didn't work out today. I pulled a muscle in my shoulder it seems, or something. I hurt my left shoulder. Tomorrow is another day. Weekends are HARD. I did well today compared to the last few. I didn't stay in bed, I did two loads of laundry and one of dishes, I made lentil soup for the week for me and kid, I cleaned Franks litter box and packed a suitcase and walked the dogs twice. And prepared medications for the next 6 weeks into pill boxes. Took out trash. I didn't stay in bed. Tomorrow I will get up, the man in my house proposes brunch. Again. Sure, I'll try. I'll try to show up for brunch. The poor man has the patience of a saint. I hope to wear pink pants and a sheer blouse with a black tank under it, or maybe a denim top. And leopard print shoes. Or maybe red shoes, analogous to the pink. Or nude slides, effortlessly slipped into so it doesn't look like I tried too hard. Something that will make me feel more visible, that my skin wants to feel, that makes me walk the way I want to walk, that makes me want to go into a restaurant and make contact with the world. Maybe flirt with the man across the table.

It was amusing last night we went out to dinner and my husband was flabbergasted at my facial expressions. Very annoyed, he turned around to see who I was flirting with. It was a baby. The most adorable baby was making big smiles at me, and I was raising my eyebrows, tilting my head, smiling and winking back. Babies are wonderful and I miss having them, although I don't have the energy anymore. It was nice to see a baby making such big smiles at me, totally unafraid, unselfconscious, totally present, fully in its skin. May we all experience a taste of that original freedom, original safety, original presence, original joy.

[NarcKiddo]

Flirting with a baby. That's funny. And cute.

Want and not want. All that resonates so much. My life is mostly Schrodinger's something or other.

I'm sorry your shoulder is bothering you. In case it is of interest or relevance to you, I often have unexplained shoulder issues that I can't tie down to anything I actually did. My conclusion now is that what I actually did was breathe. That's all. My lung issues mean I have usually have to use accessory muscles to help so my neck and shoulders do double duty most of the time. It doesn't take much to make them angry. It's frustrating because I can't exactly not breathe, but since I like to know reasons I pursue them until something makes sense even if I can't fix it.