I am taking away your maladaptive coping skills!

YOU MUST ELIMINATE THE FOLLOWING BEHAVIORS:
cutting, boozing, promescuity, ODing on benzos, vomiting, excessive spending....

I am taking away all of your maladaptive coping skills...if you need them, they will be in either my purse or the refrigerator - neither of which you are allowed to prowl without my permission, which of course you do not have.....
And what will we be replacing them with?
Oh -I'm glad you asked, Crazybrain! 
We are replacing them with the following:
Radical acceptance
Wisemind
Half smile
Oh, you could exercise too, if you want: fat-ass!
Just deal with it! 
I personally think it's stupid to take away a person's crutches in life and expect them to deal effectively for more than a couple of days - without a mental meltdown!
Because then you get to live in hell until you can learn to short-circuit the brain's automatic responses that you developed because of a lifetime of f**kedupness.
DUMB!   I'm just sayin'    D~U~M~B!

WHERE ARE YOU TODAY, CRAZYBRAIN?

I woke up this morning in trauma brain hell!  Physical pain, emotionally exhausted - the best part of waking up on a Sunday morning (it's way worse than Folgers)!!!  And I have been desperately trying to ignore it, but I can feel it - I can't make it go away.  I watched a moive...I can feel all of it.  I took a bath...It won't stop.  I cleaned the kitchen...it's still here. I just want it to go away.  Nothing helps.  And I feel so GD worthless and defeated!  What a failure!

It’s like she said it to throw it in my face! I wouldn’t have even known there was a trauma seminar coming to town if she wouldn’t have mentioned it. But she did! And it wasn’t long after she spent 6x the cost on DBT. And of course crazybrain freaks that the therapist isn’t going. And then the therapist says, “Whether I go to the Van der kolk or any other seminar on trauma treatment or otherwise, I feel a need to remind you that the work in therapy right now appears to be your struggles with safety and trust. Of course you are going to be vigilant to whether safety exists in the context of facing your past, in my office or anywhere else when feelings, memories or core issues arise. This is an adaptive self protective function. I think it is important to remember that the safety is not just in my office or in our conversations, but in your ability to care for yourself when experiencing triggered emotions and thoughts. As you know, there have been times when you were not able to do this and this was terrifying. So, the pacing of your process needs lots of respect and time!”

But crazybrain says, it’s not about the safety and trust. Not as she sees it. It’s about the commitment of the therapist to help crazybrain. That’s what she thinks! She isn’t *committed*. Why did she even mention the stupid seminar anyway? Just to throw it in crazybrain’s face that she isn’t committed enough to helping crazybrain so she isn’t going? Even though she had just said she would “jump at the chance to go to a trauma seminar”…if there was one available. How does SHE know how “terrifying” it is? She isn’t here! I’ve been patient! She is committed to DBT –and onions- NOT to me! 
Why does CB think that?  Why can't she just get past it?  Why is she so GD irrational?  Why can CB just not STOP IT!  JUST STOP IT RIGHT NOW!

See, the past keeps coming up anyway!  It continues to haunt me mentally, physically, emotionally - whether I can "deal" with it, or not!  How am I going to LEARN how to "deal with it" when no one will teach me!  It just gets worse!  It keeps getting worse!  And I am still "ill-prepared".  It isn't like it just STOPS because I can't figure out how to find "safety and trust" - no - you know what?  Actually, that just makes it all worse.  It just makes it worse!  Can't *face* it - can't *outrun" it...so what does that leave??? Continuation of circling in hell?  Because I can say I can't do that much longer.  It hurts all the time!  I am ashamed and embarrassed and I feel like I deserve the pain and I take 20 steps backwards every single day and I want to pull my hair out from frustration!  I feel worthless!  I feel useless to even my children right now! I have NO faith anymore! NONE!

Don't *ask* me how I *feel* because no one cares how I *feel*.  I don't feel very safe right now.  Why do I never feel safe?  Why is there no safety anywhere? 

"WHERE ARE YOU TODAY, CB?"  IN HELL...just something else you can't "help" me with...
I'd write about why I'm in hell, but the therapist said that would just make it worse.  And since I am searching for a reason to keep breathing - I'm guessing making it worse wouldn't be a super idea.  THIS is bad enough!

Grace, if it wouldn’t have been the onion – you would have found something else to be mad about, another reason to push her away…

I had lunch with my friend L today. L is my friend who will “tell it like it is” no matter what (not in a rude way, but she isn’t that friend who just agrees with you no matter what you say…I like that about her). It’s been such a long time since L and I have really “talked” ~ so it was really nice to catch up with her. We always go to the same restaurant and we always sit at the same table…silly, I know, but it’s “familiar”. I’ve been in a really bad place for awhile (really, captain obvious, I hadn’t noticed!) so having lunch with L was really something I really needed today.

We talked about everything! Christmas, how much her parents spoiled her during the holidays, her BF…and then the dreaded topic of *therapy* came up. I told L about the fact that I’ve been really f’d up since I shared way too much of myself with the therapist, and then about the onions and the cat thing, and then the fact that she forgot Grace last Friday~ thing…and on and on…and she actively listened to me.

And when I had finished speaking, she said, “Grace, you do realize that if it wouldn’t have been the onions, you would have found another reason to be pissed at the therapist. You felt like you shared too much of yourself, which made you uncomfortable, you got scared, and so you’re now trying to find a reason to pull away, to push her away, to really piss her off so she will tell you to go away….instead of really dealing with the real problems.”

“Yes”, I told L, “But then the therapist said she would be patient again, and I hate that because I want her to tell me to F off because I am so mean and disgusting! And I know she thinks that too – and she just won’t say it. NO ONE is that patient! And I’m not getting any better. I mean, I haven’t SI’d in over 3 months – but I think about it all the time, and I think about SUI all the time...and I have so much time late at night that I don’t remember but I’m not asleep – and I just don’t think I can get better.”

L told me that she does think the therapist knows what’s going on with me, and why I’m *acting out* right now, and that if I haven’t pushed the therapist away with the behavior I exhibited in 2008 and early 2009 then she ain’t going to leave now –and I have to learn to be patient with myself, just like the therapist has said she will be patient with me. L said that she KNOWS I am better now than I was 2 years ago – because she has been there to witness it.

I don’t know…I love L and I treasure her friendship and I trust her… and I know she made some honest and valid points today…but I just feel freakin’ lost! And tired! Ya know? Like I feel like I paddle so fast and hard to get upstream and then I stop for a minute and I’m suddenly back to where I started. I don’t know the answers. But L got me to eat something which is more than I’ve been able to do for myself in nearly 4 days… And she’s right – about the therapist. I know that. And yet still…there’s doubt.  And I'm still scared.

I'll be patient while you work through your anger, Grace...."...or you could just die already, that'd be fine, too

That’s what the therapist said to me last night, in the Wed night email, that we “agreed” too ~ when she doesn’t forget…. She said, “I am optimistic that you will find a way through this irritation at me. And if not, the part of you that continues to be angry must feel a need to stay protective and guarded...and so I will wait, seek to understand and gently challenge when called for from my perceptions.”

So, since I’ve had a couple glasses of wine, let me just throw it all out there, before I go puke (having some serious digestive issues as a result of the wine, no food intake, no sleep – and some overwhelming rage/anxiety/depression). Here it is…coming around again…her seemingly endless “patience” at my acting out behavior (I will use that because I know that’s what she thinks it is). Gawd, Grace is acting out again! But like the parent of a 2 year old in the midst of a temper tantrum…I will just wait it out, until she calms down and I can reason with her. When really, I would prefer her to just scream right back at me, tell me I’m a GD baby and that she HATES dealing with me and wishes I had never crossed the threshold of her onion smelling office, and that I would never return again! That’s what I would prefer…and I think it would make me less angry – if she would just say it! I’m not 3 years old! I’m a 38 year old bitch! Sometimes the tears of frustration fall and I want to call her up and tell her that I hate her! Because I know she isn’t really that “patient” ~ no one is! And I know she must truly hate me.  I'm sure of it!

And then when things start to calm down, there is that part of me who is attached to her, and when that part of me starts to feel cared for, safe, and trusting again, then another part of me goes on high-alert and starts looking for some reason why the therapist cannot be trusted. And the most recent reasons: she leaves her cats alone for days, she forgot to email me on Friday when she know how hard Fridays are for me, and she ate onions right before my appointment, in her office, stinking up the whole joint – and not taking me into consideration when she knows my history about onions (because the trusting part told her...told her way too much!).

When I get angry and pull away from the therapist, the 5 year old screams even more ~ and rather than try anything to comfort her, I wish she would just DIE already! She is so GD annoying! The week after Christmas when the therapist changed my appointment time by 15 minutes, the 5 year old freaked out like there was some big announcement going to be made and the therapist needed the 15 minutes between appointments because she knew the 5 year old was going to be a complete mess....something the 5 year old can't handle because life is so "unpredictible" and all.  That's why I hate that stupid whiny baby! I want her to shut up and if she can't - then I want her to die! 

So now what…now comes the part where she throws out the whole, “I’ll be patient while you work through your hurt and anger at me, Grace.” And what she doesn’t realize, is a really big part of me believes that she either cannot see how close I am to just ending it all, or she doesn’t care. My stubbornness is as endless as her patience…I wonder who will win because I am ready to die for my cause!

And why should we“trust”the therapist? Every time we do, she does something that hurts and makes me pull away –and then PAG goes on a BL rampage trying to hurt both of us because she obviously doesn’t care or she wouldn’t have (enter: forgot to email ,eaten onions etc). So, in an effort to make me think she’s all non-judgmental of my out of control behavior directed toward her (inappropriately, I’m sure) she will be “patient”. And that’s because no one was ever “patient” or “listened” too little Grace…so the therapist thinks she can change this? Really, it just makes me think she is just biding her time, avoiding me, until I get my behavior in check and act like an adult…so she doesn’t have to deal with me. And I just hope that I can go long enough without eating or drinking anything that my heart will just stop. Yes, it really does hurt that much now! I was in the bathtub earlier today and I curled my arms around my legs, like a pretzel, and put my face in the surface of the water…and I wondered how hard and painful it would be to just leave my head there, under the water…until my heart really did stop.

I wish it would have. But it didn’t. But she can continue to be *patient* until I’m dead. And even though her patience seems “endless” ~ I hope it doesn’t take that long because I'm really effin' tired….and I don't want to hurt anymore ~ I don't want to feel anything anymore.  I want to go away.  I want the therapist to go away.  I just want it all to stop.

Just throw me in the recycle bin - reuse the parts that aren't broken for someone else! Someone more *willing* and less *willful*!

Better hurry tho - before I completely destroy the *rest* of me!  Especially since I am so unwilling to relinquish my stubborn willfulness *in the service of exploring other ideas*.

Crazy and Trauma are flowing freely though every single vein and artery in my body. The pain has coated the inside of me to the point that I cannot bear to have another person touch me in any way lest they be contaminated by the badness that is me. I am a vessel of darkness that is so sinister, so toxic, I no longer recognize who I once was. So many different parts of me screaming and yelling in such chaos and I have found no way to sooth or accommodate them at all. There is a bad, menacing part, she is venomous and in my inability to work with her, I find it best if I stay hidden from the public eye ~ lest her poison will leak into someone else. I feel so angry and so weary right now.

And I cannot face the therapist tomorrow. I cannot sit there and talk and talk and talk…she would say I am too “willful” and I would say I was plenty “willing” to discuss the “bad stuff” last week and I have been fucked up ever since! And I’m angry with her right now. Angry because I feel so sick right now, and because she forgot me on Friday. Angry because she leaves her cats and thinks they are happy and social and healthy! That’s what people said about me too, therapist when I was a kid! 

And I feel sick and jaded and I know that if I go tomorrow and I don’t feel better it will because I wasn’t “open” or “willing” enough and that’s why I’m not better. And I can’t face that right now. I already know how f’d up I am…I already KNOW I’m not getting any better. I know that! I don’t want to hear it tomorrow! I don’t want to hear it again!

Why not just throw my *willful* ass in the recycle bin…surely there are some pieces of me that are not broken, pieces that are salvageable and can be given to someone else to use. There has to be something that isn’t broken! 

***STRING OF CB EXPLETIVES *** thrown out in exasperation because I don't know what else to do!!!!  I don't know what to do.  Why can't she hear that?  Why can't any of them hear that?  It hurts all the time right now.  I need it to just stop.

"Grace, there's a difference between being independent and being so self-reliant as to shut people out." There is?

In my *real* life I tend to pull inside myself when I find myself in a place of fear or pain; much like a turtle hiding inside her shell when she feels threatened. It’s difficult for me to reach out to someone for help, or even just for ‘company’. I don’t feel that way “here” ~ for a couple of reasons, there is, of course, the anonymity factor, but also because I think most people who ‘read’ my blog feel and struggle with much of the same things I do. In my *real* life that isn’t the case.

On Monday I shared the puking in the IHOP parking lot with the therapist, and I told her that I just told the hus and DS & DD that I wasn’t feeling well and that I swallowed wrong…and she asked me if I thought it might be better if I shared the truth with them…not like the gross explicit details of what was running rampant through my crazybrain, but just that the waitress had said something that triggered a past memory for me and it made me sick. And without even thinking about it, I said, “No way! I don’t want them to know!” It’s hard to share the bad things in real life with real life people because I don’t want them to see me the way I see myself; weak and gross and dirty and depressed. I want them to see the Grace that I’ve always been….because I’m embarrassed of the other “graces”. And they are to be kept in the dark, as they have always been.

Monday’s therapy session was very difficult because we continued to talk about the ‘hard stuff’ the stuff I don’t talk about and I pushed myself to share more of the *bad* stuff with her than I ever have before and at one point she even asked me if I wanted to stop talking about it and I said no. And I think I pushed myself because I want to feel better so badly that I just want to spew it all out of me so “we” can figure out how to deal with it so there is less confusion and craziness and fighting inside my head. But my plan kind of back-fired on me because Monday night there was even more craziness and fighting…voices screaming that we shared too much with the therapist. Embarrassment, shame, fear, pain…all pummeled me until I wanted to cut the voices right out of my brain! What was I thinking? Why did I tell her that? What she must think of me now! Holy shit! Now I can never go back there she knows way to much! And this continuous tape recorder did not stop until late Tuesday night.

I had text messages and VM messages and emails from friends and I couldn’t answer any of them because I couldn’t let anyone know (IRL) how much pain I was in and how much shame I felt from therapy on Monday.  But then last night, I did respond to some of the emails and text messages, apologizing for my lack of response but that I wasn’t really in a place to talk on Monday. And I realized that I do have friends who love me and would be there for me, if I would let them… I responded to one friend and told her I wasn’t in a good place on Monday so I couldn’t respond to her then…and she said, “That’s when you walk up to me for a hug and know that I am here for you always.”
Another friend emailed this to me: Grace, there's a difference between being independent and being so self-reliant as to shut people out :) Not that I feel shut out! It's just that you have some reason why you have to keep everything locked up inside and can't talk to anybody. I mean if it's for your own benefit that's one thing, if it's a control thing or whatever, but if you seriously think you're benefiting ME by holding it in...get a grip, girl! I care about you, I care about what happens to you, what goes on in your mind, for good OR bad, and I always will. You matter to me. What you feel matters to me too. You don't have to talk when you don't feel like it, I promise you that, but if you feel like it and you're sitting on it cause you're worried about ME, I'm gonna have to...I dunno, mail you a fruitcake as punishment. Fruuuuuitcake *ghostly voice* Be afraid. Fear the fruitcake!

I have some really good friends out there…but you know what still holds me back from reaching out to them? That voice inside who says, “Grace, they don’t KNOW the truth about you. That’s why they love you. If they knew the truth they would surely run away…just as you have run away from yourself for so many years…” and so I didn’t respond to either of them.

And until they invent water-proof mascara that is truly water-proof,
I ain't crying in front of anyone...but dear therapist!

Once upon a time...there was silence

It hurts ~ that we don't speak of by GracefullyGrowing featuring Alexander McQueen accessories

Do you know what it's like to feel trapped? That no matter where you turn there is no way out. The light is gradually sucked out of your life. You live in darkness. At first you are afraid of the dark and the agony, but after a while you get used to it. No matter where you turned, you find only pain and abandonment. And at first you find this unsettling you’re human and you crave love and connection. But as time passes you begin to realize that you are undeserving of this bond, and you become a shell with no soul. You no longer exist; you simply drift from moment to moment trying to keep some semblance of sanity. Certain people take notice, but fear overwhelms you and you remain silent. They cannot be trusted. No one can be trusted.

You were little, though in reality you were never allowed to be so, and you realized that is just isn't worth it. It is not worth the pain and heartache - and so you wait....in silence. You do what is expected of you and expect nothing of anyone else. It hurts more than anyone will ever know.

You put up a front for show. You try to shield others from this darkness You were always a pawn in a sick and twisted game; you still are. Your pain does not matter, you do not matter. You become what he wants you to be. And nothing else. You give in to his commands. Partially out of fear but also because you no longer care, and it’s all you’ve ever known. You realized early on that your life is meaningless. You are an object, void of emotion or need. Evil things are said and done, and this is their warped vision of fun. You must deserve this. You must be inherently evil because a kind and gracious God would not allow this to happen. Time passes.......you are in need of guidance but too afraid to ask.

The nightmares from the past still linger, bleeding into your life now. Still, you wait, in silence. Still, you live in fear. There is too much confusion and chaos in your head. You want to scream, but you cry instead.

It is the same now as it was then - crying - alone, lying bleeding on the cold floor. Praying for it all to end. Praying for it to be over. Praying to a God who never heard you then, the God who does not hear you now.

How are you *feeling* today, Grace? Well, DT, let me check the chart....

The therapist has this *feeling* chart up on her wall (who's therapist doesn't, right?) ~ I look at it sometimes although it's on the same wall as the couch so it's difficult to see ~ I'd suggest she move it ~ but you know how us *crazyheads* are ~ we don't like change - so it's probably not a good idea.  Anyway, I was thinking about that chart today, and how hard it is for me to even know how I'm "feeling" at any given point in time.  Today I feel like a big fat fucking failure ~ yep ~ that's how I *FEEL* ~ I can't find that on the chart, dear therapist...does that mean I'm not *allowed* to FEEL that way?  Cuz I do!

Yup ~ big fat fucking failure...that would be a combination of many of these stupid-ass faces! 
Fuck it! Who cares!  I sure don't!!!

Rock a Bye Angel

Rock-a-bye angel soon you will fall
Soon your tears will be known to all.
Rock-a-bye angel please don't cry
Just close your eyes and say goodbye
Rock-a-bye angel say your prayers
Say goodbye to taunts and stares
Goodbye to those who never cared
Rock-a-bye angel fallen from the sky
Just take the pills and close your eyes

Rock a Bye Angel by GracefullyGrowing on Polyvore.com

I had *crazyhead* on Friday

Last Friday I got confused between then and now.  I thought I was past that but obviously I'm not.
Because it happened again.  I was 9 when my mother took my little brother and went away for 2 weeks with my biological father and left me with the evil step-father.  And last Friday I got *crazyhead* early in the evening and when I was talking to the therapist I cried and told her she couldn't help me. And I got confused. The therapist was suddenly the host body and she left me with the evil kid-f'ing SF. And I told the therapist I did not need her and she could not help me and I hung up on her. And I don't remember much else after that.
I don't know how to get the crazy out of my head. I need to find a cure soon ~ because although I didn't find any cuts/scabs/burns later...this last case of the crazies was worse than most. 
I can't get out of bed now...all I want to do is stay asleep...I just want to sleep...

I am hanging on to the words you say ~ that I am not crazy, and I will be okay

"You are not crazy and you will be okay". I am holding tightly onto your words, dear therapist. I have hidden them under my tear stained pillow where they can be easily reached when I wake up in terror and confusion.

Last Friday night was the worst I’ve experienced in a long time. I know in part it was due to the shameful disclosures I made in the therapist’s office, but there is more to it than that. And I have been trying to put the puzzle together, yet there are still missing pieces lost in the darkness, and it seems as though I have caught another case of trauma brain, in addition to a head cold. As you know *borderline freak outs* are a common side effect of trauma brain and I appreciate her endless patience when dealing with PAG. I understand there is no reasoning with her, which is why I choose to leave when she comes around.

I am sorry that I told the therapist that she doesn’t “get it” ~ that wasn’t fair, and I am sorry for hanging up on her and telling her that I do not need anything from her, including her ‘support’. Last Friday when I was talking to her the giddy sound in her voice and the fact that I perceived she called me back in front of the BF made me feel even more ashamed and embarrassed. And she sounded so happy and from my perspective not in a place where she could possibly understand that Grace’s internal security threat level had gone from a barely supportable ‘orange’ to unendurable “RED” and yet I had no way to communicate that to her because…well, I don’t really know why, exactly…I can only hypothesize and surmise and draw my own conclusions drawn from assumptions and guesswork:
1. I was angry that the therapist called me back from her BF’s house (although, I have to say I do like him better than the fossil – obviously he has email and a dog – and anyone who loves dogs is a-ok in my book) but I didn’t want to be a high-maintenance pain in the ass ~ or rain on her *happy parade* especially since she sounded so giggly and happy and I was in hell.
2. The kids were not home on Friday night and I knew that would make it worse for me ~ they are at least a distraction for part of the night.
3. The hus had already made some inferences that had kicked the 5 year old fear into full defcon 5 trauma brain.
4. I could not regain control of any situation on Friday night. I was not able to control what came out of my mouth, or what my body would do. Nothing! And the later it got ~ the worse it got. I could not stay in my body, or mind, for even 10 minutes.
5. I was not able to soothe any part of me or find any safety at all.
6. I felt like an inconvenience ~ she did not say that...in fact, she was trying to help me, but I felt like an inconvenience because…well, because that’s how I’ve always felt when I need help.
7.  ....and other stuff
I know at one point on Friday night I was talking to my friend Lynn on one phone and the therapist on another…but I remember only a snippet of each conversation. It was all surreal – like I was not attached to my body at all – and I couldn’t feel anything, but could see what was happening- and it was complete chaos. I felt like the body I was seeing was dead and there were these people around her trying to help her live but she couldn’t understand them. And it was so loud and chaotic and confusing that I could not handle any of it so I stopped watching because it was weird and scary and tiring and no one could make that girl understand anything – and she just wanted it all to stop. The next thing I remember was the hus waking me up outside at 3am – wondering what the hell I was doing outside, as was I.

And just as I told the therapist she doesn’t “get” what it’s like for me at night, I surely cannot “get” what it must be like for her to try to figure out where I am and what’s going on when I cannot communicate with her and we are on the phone so it’s not like she can ‘see me’ – and I certainly do not “get” what it’s like for her to get a frantic phone call from me when I am in that state…and it’s discouraging because I thought I was doing better. I really did.

And I couldn’t deal with any of it the rest of the weekend so I just stayed in bed. But I’m still holding on…the therapist told me that I will be okay and I am not crazy. I am holding onto her words right now. Because I do not feel okay ~ and I do feel crazy. I feel like I am falling apart…

And the best you can hope for is to die in your sleep...

Right now I'd rather turn around and walk away forever…make that RUN. It's much easier than facing the truth. I will do virtually anything to keep from ‘feeling’ the searing pain that has manifested itself in my soul in both my 'past' and 'present moment'...and  it has made me so very tired. And frankly I don’t know how to survive right now. I have nothing left~ I lack the energy to even make it through the days. So I have been taking advantage of the copious amount of anti-anxiety drugs that PDOC so graciously prescribed for me during *times like these* (aka: “crazy grace” times).
Every hand is a winner and every hand’s a loser…and I have come to the decision that the winning hand for me is to stay asleep as much as possible. I haven’t been feeling well physically – perhaps a cold from sleeping outside until after 3am on Friday night in the below freezing weather...I am not really sure.  
And the fact is that I have been plagued by nightmares when awake and asleep. Sunday morning I opened my eyes for the first time at 11:30am and not even a strong cup of coffee could keep me awake and functioning, so I saw the light for only a short time. Why fight it ~ isn’t that what the therapist would say? “Grace, listen to your body and if you need to sleep 22 hours out of the day, then *be okay* with that."  So I have been listening to this sluggish, disgusting, hurting body telling me to just take the drugs and go to sleep. And take enough of them to ensure we all stay asleep. 
The drugs do not prevent the nightmares but somehow make them more bearable, if that makes any sense at all. I still feel fear, still wake up in a cold sweat with my heart pounding, but right now it is still more tolerable than being awake.
I don’t think I have been this numb to the reality of life in a long time. I have been 'present' and 'in my body' and 'aware' of my surroundings for about 10 minutes the entire weekend. I'm okay with that because in this body is the last place I want to be right now. I’ve done zero Christmas shopping for my children. An inner critic is screaming about the Christmas shopping thing and yet I still cannot seem to rid my brain of the infinite dark cloudiness in my head long enough to even muster up the cognitive ability to order anything from Amazon. 

I am tired ~ drained ~ unwell

I wish I  could talk about what has happened but I cannot.  So please forgive me if I check out for a while...I did not plan this ~ but it is what it is ~ and I cannot change it right this minute.  I amdiscouraged, angry, frustrated, fearful, confused...and I cannot face any of that right now. 

And so I have a bedside table with the necessities to make it through the rest of this festive holiday season: bottles of seroquel, lorazapam, xanax and a bottle of water to wash them down with...and a bottle of wine and some vodka...if need be.  I just want to be totally and completely 100% numb for now. 

What? Grace, I thought you were past that? Yeah, me too…but I was wrong.

Now the best I can hope for is to turn toward the window and hope that somewhere in the darkess, I, like the gambler, will *break even*~ because I'm currently out of aces...

TEMPORARILY AWAY: relocated to the Island of Misfit Survivors

I don’t know where to go from here. I am bleeding inside and it hurts. I want the hurt to go away and yet I do not want to reach out for any type of help. I continue to struggle with the conflict inside of me, and making decisions that are not consensual with all parts of me, and the backlash that occurs as a result. Once the decision is made there is pushback and anxiety and I while I realize there are no ‘take backs’ I feel like I need to run away to the Island of Misfit Toys right now.

I want some semblance of sanity in my life. I want the pain to go away, or at least dull ~ I want the body stuff to stop and the movies to stop at night. And I know I need help for that to happen….but I don’t want help because I don’t want to depend on someone to help me, and I don’t want the vulnerability of actually talking about it. So where does that leave me? Yes, exactly! On the “Island of Misfit Survivors”, that’s where!  Feelings of vulnerability compromise my ‘inner security’, which then sends out alerts to PAG, who then makes life hell, and not just for me. Who doesn’t have issues with trust and vulnerability, right? That’s not a unique quality that simply I must bear. Especially in a one-sided relationship like therapy.

My mind is reeling with the thoughts of someone else seeing the ugly death inside my body that has metastasized into all 5 foot 3 inches of me; and I'm  wondering if I even have the ability and strength to try to figure out a way to communicate what I can only describe as an intense pain that cannot be expressed in the verbiage of the human language. The words simply do not exist. And even if they did I don’t know that I would be able to verbalize them.

Last night I found myself literally “Rocking around the Christmas Tree” in the quiet desperation of the darkness. And I sat on the floor, crying and wrapped in a blanket, rocking and counting the white and red lights on the tree in my living room. And when the lights would blur from the tears in my eyes, I would close my eyes, reopen them, and start again…counting and rocking…counting to save myself from shattering, counting to save myself from falling deeper into the pit of hopeless abandonment. Counting and rocking… counting to save my life.

I don’t know what I need ~ to pray harder? That doesn’t work well for me. I should ask someone to pray for me? Maybe that would work. Prayer for strength? I cannot believe I that I am doubting myself yet again just when I thought I had taken a step forward in this fight. My mind is a chaotic mess! I need to go throw up and then try to find something else to focus on. The less I think about this right now, the better.

Please brace yourself and assume the crash landing position...

Inside, all is not calm ~ all is not bright.

Those who dwell inside of me are struggling in this internal civil war ~ and all the while I try to retain some sort of reasonable life and carry out my responsibilities and obligations.  It ain't easy...it really hurts to be inside this mind and this body right now.  I'm bracing myself for a crash landing tomorrow in therapy and I should probably forwarn the therapist that I feel this way so she can do the same.  Even though she probably wouldn't anyway ~ but rather  still be "the same" calm and nonjudging woman she always is (which I hate, by the way).  I would much prefer her to grab me by the shoulders and tell me to get a grip!

I have tried really hard to listen and dialogue with all the internal voices but there's still no cohesiveness.  One will allow the therapist in, trust her enough to tell her something shameful and horrifying, and then later there's all of this anxiety and doubt that jolts me like an electrical shock.  I am struggling to make sense of things; questioning decisions and disclosures.  Even though the therapist continues to try to establish trust and safety with/for me there are still so many feelings of hurt and distrust toward her.  Parts of me are still skeptical and defiant and still are ready to flee.  And a very strong part of me still stands behind this brick wall of emotional boundaries and I know that she walks a fine line when trying to reach out to me, ask questions, offer suggestions for help.  I know that I am more than a handful, but I have good reasons for being scared ~ my struggles with fear and distrust are valid and real.

I feel irritable and angry because I cannot seem to work through this.  I am agitated to the point I have not been able to sit still since about last Thursday.  And I know that I have choices, there's always a choice.  I can choose to go see the therapist tomorrow and be as honest as I am here and know that I will feel utterly vulnerable that she will be horrified by my weaknesses and disappointed in my lack of growth, or, I can sit behind the facade of togetherness and be humorous and strong, intelligent and masked, and then leave her office in a state of inner turmoil because I continue to stand close enough to touch even a minute of relief from all of this and yet still deny myself from reaching out and grabbing it.  The decision may sound like a no-brainer, but it's so much more complicated than the surface choices.  And I feel overwhelmed with both choices. 

I am coping....but just barely....

Unable to reach out...she sits alone ~ in tears...

she sits by the old tree
waiting..
a tiny girl in tears.
wrapping her arms around her knees
she embraces the ache of fear
there's a light in a cottage so near
casting soft shadows on a moonlit face
voices serenade the darkness
inflaming the embers
of a belonging so close,
but never close enough...
for her to reach

Little girl by the tree... by GracefullyGrowing on Polyvore.com

"How I Hate DBT"...in the past, in the future, and in my "PRESENT MOMENT"

So Marsha can put that in her barrette, tie it up in her scarf, or hide it under her habit...I stumbled upon some DBT 'crap' this morning...SURPRISE! 

Recently, I received an email from someone who found my blog by googling "how I hate DBT" and it still saddens and angers me that the great and powerful MHPs still think DBT is the best mode of treatment for trauma survivors.  And I have to believe that my anger and need to express my feelings about dbt is more than just for selfish reasons ~  more than just a spoke in my menstral cycle. 

Yeah, I am more than a statistic...and so is this young woman who emailed me.  As I read the word of this woman who emailed me about her hatred of DBT, and how she is still attending the classes even though she finds the classes to be angering and triggering for her, I was reminded of my own feelings and how I felt when it was "strongly" suggested that I go to dbt ~ I say strongly suggested, but really it felt forced to me.  Forced to go by someone I trusted more than I had trusted anyone else in my life to have my 'best interests' in mind. 

When I asked the young lady why she continued to go despite the fact she did not find the classes helpful, she said, "I argue with my therapist about it all of the time. I don't know why I still go...I think to humor my therapist and because I have a hard time saying no to her. Must be under her spell."  

I resonate with what she was saying because I felt the same way!  And really, in the long run, it actually made me resentful of my therapist because I felt like she forced me to go and she knew saying 'no' is something I struggle with.  I did not have a right to say no growing up ~ she knew that ~and I feel like she took advantage of that by making me go to the classes which really just set me back 2 years in therapy with respect to 'trust' and 'safety'.  I feel like I should get 1/2 my GD money back!  I left every single class more pissed off and suicidal than when I arrived.  

And the MHPs know this, too.  Once, after dbt class, I reached out to my therapist to tell her how upset I was and she responded with, "Of course you are going to feel irritable after DBT class as this class runs counter to what your emotional mind wants which is to be heard, understood and comforted, vs being told to modulate, distract, "pretend" to feel good, etc."  So really she KNEW I wanted to be heard and understood, and yet she wanted me to "distract" and "pretend" ~ skills I learned SO well as a child, skills that were just reinforced during dbt classes that now that's all can do, IRL! AGAIN!  It's a beautiful thing!  "Where are you today, Grace?"  In Grace robotic voice, "I am  fine, DT.  I am distracting myself by doing math problems inside my head so I tell you nothing because I no longer trust you and am afraid of you...."  DBTs star pupil! 

I am more than just a half smile ~ more than just a number on a diary card!  Just like this person stated: I am More than a Statistic!

I have been allowed an understanding that the Marsha drinking kool-aid compound residents have chosen to ignore.  So many people are basically being forced to go to DBT even though they don't find it helpful, and in fact, are bitter and resentful for being sent.  If you went to dbt and found it helpful ~ great!  But I'm speaking for those of us who found it more harmful and traumatic and now feel even more untrusting and 'hushed'...why didn't you listen to us when we told you "NO"?  Why should we trust that you will listen to us now?  I want to live in a world where survivors get to have a say in their *treatment* ~ a world where there is actually HELP and not just words of "this is your last hope".... a world where I am free of dbt!  A world where the MHPs will listen to more than just the nun...

OH, and this is what I think about "no self-harm/sui contracts":  SI/SUI Contracts... I don't need an "agreement" with an MHP to "stay safe" ~ I don't give a shit if it makes YOU feel better, or not. 

Your feelings and needs are safe with me and you will not be forgotten...

But what if you do? What if something comes up and you don’t have room for me anymore? What if you do forget how much it hurts? …………but what if you don’t?
I have an idea of something that I think might work in trying to reopen the lines of communication with the therapist…but something is still holding me back…is it fear?  Trust?  Safety? 

A girl holds a pillow in front of her face, her eyes water but she doesn’t blink so no tears fall. She is screaming inside, “I am afraid. You will hurt me. You will destroy me. You will get sick and tired of me and you will throw me in the trash just as they did. I am afraid of you so I will remain quiet and I will try to be good.”

And another girl speaks, stubborn and questioning all thoughts of safety and trust, “Now you want to ‘hear’ me again? NOW? Where were you then when I needed you? Where were you? Why should I trust you? I did trust you and you took it away. Shattered me. I can’t let that happen again! It’s easier to deal with it myself than to trust someone else. You won’t be there when I am frozen in pain and forget how to breathe. You won’t be there. It is too much for you. I will not talk to you. You will tell me to get over it, stay in the present moment. If I tell you I need to hurt myself because I deserve it you will send me away. You won’t understand and you will think I am pathetic and weak. I will walk away right now! I do not need you or your help!”

Another voice questions the genuiness of the therapist’s words, “Why do you try so hard to be nice to me? I don’t need your kindness because it isn’t real. Your kindness cuts me, it makes me sad. It hurts more than any pain. I prefer to fight you and push you away because I know how to do that! I know how to fight back. If you accept me, if you know me and accept me and then still tell me you care and treat me with kindness and respect? And then if I accept your kindness and lower my wall, my defenses, then I will be exposed and you can hurt me then. You will hurt her.

There is another girl, a smaller one, one who cries because she is so lost and afraid…because it hurts so much inside and she does believe in the therapist but the others, they won’t let her talk. They try to protect her but really they are hurting her. Because every night her body hurts, her body feels things that her mind cannot process. It scares her and leaves her aching with shame and badness. She whispers things we don’t speak of. She wants help now. She wants it to stop.

How do I make it stop? How do I make it stop for her? I am filled with uncertainty and pain. She told me she would be here. She said she would not leave me and she would try to help me to the best of her ability. She said my feelings are safe with her and she will not forget me.

Dearest Therapist,
I am trying really hard to find a way back to trusting you. It is so hard to find a way to navigate through all of the internal conflict and pain. I cannot do it alone and I have an idea that I am holding close to me right now still cautious and uncertain. Because I cannot fail in this again…I really need to trust you. I really need your help.
Because it hurts all the time and I need to find my way out.
Can you help me if I can find a way to talk to you?

Due to recent cutbacks ~ the light at the end of the tunnel has been shut off...

Phantoms of the past rule my nights and control my reactions. Most nights I don’t know who I am…I am blind to me and I grope around in the darkness of the too familiar territory. There is no light switch, no flame flickering from a candle, no star to guide me through. I find no validation, or understanding, or compassion here ~ those feelings are all indefinable for the cretin that is me, the creature who was crushed long ago by predators and demons. Beliefs of badness were branded into my soul, painting me in shades of pain and terror. Each night I once again walk through the hallways of the past, once again, before me are the gaping holes of pain splattered in blood scrawled in hate, cries echo and pain hisses as I am guided deeper into the source. There is continuous shifting in the rubble of pain that was me ~ it is still alive in me ~ intent on impeding progress, the pain moans and growls. There is no relief. Hope and trust were obliterated time and time again…hopelessness has snuffed out what little light had remained.

Phantoms and Demons Rule at Night by GracefullyGrowing on Polyvore.com

DO NOT DEVIATE FROM THE SCRIPT, GRACE!

I mean it, Grace ~ YOU have done enough!

Dearest Therapist:
There is nothing wrong with me. I don’t see what you see. I feel fine today ~ it must have been a dream. I don’t know why I ever told you anything at all. I have no problems, there’s nothing wrong with me. How could there possibly be? I am the perfect girl. Things like that don’t happen to girls like me. I have the perfect life, with the perfect kids, the perfect friends, the perfect job, the perfect house, the perfect smile. There is no way I could have ever suffered something like that. I am not pathetic and sorry. Girls like me don’t have problems. Girls like me don’t feel pain. Girls like me have everything anyone could possibly wish for, and then some. There is nothing I cannot achieve. I am so sorry for wasting your time.

WHAT ACHES TO BE SAID BUT WILL REMAIN HIDDEN BEHIND THE SMILE: I am not that perfect girl. My heart and soul have third degree burns that cannot be repaired. It hurts so much inside that at times it is unbearable and I cannot remain here, housed in this body. I hide behind a smile because all I have left is a small amount of pride and a whole bushel of stubborn will. My life is one big lie. No one will see me with my head in the toilet or the scars on my arms that were once covered with blood. No one will ever know that the perfect girl is not real. The reality of it all is way too difficult to divulge and much less complicated to conceal. Tonight I cry alone but when tomorrow comes I will once again live that ‘perfect life’ ~ the life of no pain, the life of no shame, and the life with no fear. And you will never know that when the darkness falls, and I am once again alone, I will feel the pain I push away all day long. And I will lock myself in the bathroom and I will sob on the cold tile floor. But I will do it in the silence of my bathroom, alone, in the darkness.

You will never know….because I will not speak...I am not allowed to speak. 

I don’t have a problem. I am sorry I said anything at all. Look at me and you can tell~ there is nothing wrong here. I am the perfect girl, living the perfect life.

I am stuck in this place of begging for someone to listen to me and denying my own desires to talk

It is still here – the longing to cry with someone – but it is impossible now. It’s been impossible for so long I don’t know why I even bother with any of it. I don’t know to help her…no one knows how to help her.

It doesn’t matter if you feel like a victim or a survivor, or at times, both…it still happened. It was me. It was me lying there – it was my body. I am no longer that little girl but it was undeniably me. I was hurt, I cried, I yielded all of my power to him. Me. It was me. No one helped me. I can’t make that any different. I can’t change that….not through my writing, not by speaking, not inside my mind. I can’t undo it.

I want to bury this hurt in an airtight coffin until it suffocates and can no longer damage me. I want to smash the pain with a boulder until it is crushed and no longer alive in me. I am stuck in this place of begging for someone to listen to me and denying my own desires to talk. It all comes back to the forbidden words of trust and need and I’m having a difficult time trying to shift and reposition myself in a positive, healing way.

It’s difficult to get the words out without the tears and emotions. And I won’t cry in front of anyone…and that list now includes the therapist. There are times when I am aching with the desire to talk about difficult things and I hold back. Why? Multifaceted…complicated question and an equally complicated answer. First, there is a part of me that does not trust her, or even want to trust her. A part of me is embarrassed at the Grace she sees when the tears start. It is not the me that everyone knows…it’s the miserable, self-indulgent, childish, hopeless me. And I cannot risk being seen like that. And there’s a third reason…it feels incredibly undignified to cry in front her when she just sits there…silent and unmoving. And in the past few months I have become much more conscious of the fact that she is really, in some respects, a stranger to me, especially when the dramatic shift from ‘caring’ to ‘symptom’ management occurred. Late at night, when it is overwhelming and relentless, I don’t reach for the therapist because I know it is not her ‘job’ to be here, but I ache for someone to talk to about this pain, someone who loves me, not someone who is paid to listen.

Recently I had an opportunity to visit with an old friend I had not seen in 4 years ~ and she told me I needed to tell my mother to go to hell, once and for all, and asked me if I thought that would help.  I told her maybe.  There are many nights I want to call her and tell her to go straight to hell! It's probably a good thing I don't have her phone number ~ and definately a good thing the bitch doesn't have email ~ because PAG would certainly be burning up the phone lines and cyberspace...because she has a lot to say to the host body.

Dearest Host Body ~ Fuck you! Go have your fucking mental breakdown! Drink and pass out! Go lock yourself in the bathroom and OD and try to kill yourself while your alcoholic husband rapes me! Go ahead and wallow in self pity while that monster hunts me like prey, and skins and kills me when he catches me…over and over and over again! 
I am broken! I am so full of infection…pain and rage and disgust – I can’t find joy in the “gift of life” you so graciously gave me! There is darkness inside of me and inside that darkness is nothing - void of all humanism. Tell me mother ~ was I born this way? Was I born defective and broken?
Fuck your problems! Fuck your anger about having the responsibility to take care of your kids – which you never did anyway! Fuck your sadness about your life! Screw you! Fuck your misery! You can’t even take care of yourself! You never could! You could have helped me but you didn’t! So fuck you, mother!
You never loved me, you never showed me how to love!  But you taught me how to hate, mother - and I hate you!   Grace