I didn’t know there were actual stim toys available for sale! -Cut for length-
Summary: This was a really great day. I don’t think I had any mood swings, either (so I’m done counting days).
Sleep: I had terrible, terrible nightmares again last night. They were all about my ex trying to kill me again. Very odd.
Morning: I had my alarms set but I failed to respond very much to them; I managed to hit “snooze” a few times and then I nearly missed the tree planting this morning! I would have slept straight through it but for “Joe” calling me when I didn’t respond to any texts saying I was awake. Man, I really thought I had some momentum going for staying awake-ish in the mornings this week. But I won’t beat myself up over it. And a million thanks to “Joe” for that call, because I am so glad I got to attend the tree planting.
Excerpt(s) from my day: Everybody was so nice and it felt so wonderful to feel like I was helping the community somehow, even if the majority of my help was directed at lopping off the “suckers” and a handful of marked branches on the street-lining adult trees. It was warm and sunny and I actually got slightly sun burned, which is so insane because it’s February, the worst time of winter back Home. My newest friend had shown up, too, so I was not traveling around the city with a bunch of complete strangers. I had a really nice time. And now that I know these members of the group, I hope to attend again soon (although the chance of me getting up on time for it in the future…? We’ll see. I wish to attend Meditation too, and look how that’s been going. But we’ll see! I am hoping that I’m changing my mornings around, even if today was a fail). Later in the day, I got to hang out with “Joe”. I was tired from the morning events and he was tired from the activities of his morning, so it was sooo nice to get to chill out together and watch a little bit more Star Trek TNG. We actually exchanged some candies with each other, even though I’d previously been quite clear about my hatred of VD. I’m glad we had agreed to do that; it turned out to be really sweet (no pun intended, seriously). So in spite of or perhaps because of it being VD (I probably wouldn’t have tried so hard to get to the tree planting otherwise, for instance), it actually turned out to be a really great day. ❤ ❤
Note to dbp49: I even got to talk vermicomposting with one of the ladies whose tree we planted! I will post a picture later on sometime.
Tomorrow: My friend from Meditation is going to join me for a dinner party tomorrow evening. I’m a bit nervous because I haven’t seen her in a while (since I haven’t been attending Meditation and I was out of town the day she spontaneously invited me to lunch). I’m a bit nervous also because there are going to be 17 people attending and there will surely be a lot of alcohol, total strangers to me, and therefore some unpredictability. But then again, I look forward to it because I haven’t seen this friend in such a long time now and she’s so nice. And I’m really excited to speak with a female friend. I feel like that’s really important for me although it’s SO challenging (I don’t tend to know what to say to other females, face-to-face). But she’s super nice and friendly and I’m not too worried about that. I’m more worried about how everything else will go down. So tomorrow, I will get out of bed before 11, and help to CLEAN this house and get it ready for the dinner party. I’d like to throw in a walk if there is time after cleaning (preferably with the dogs).
This is kind of funny to me so I want to share it. I actually tried to go to bed “early” tonight. But as I lay there, I became more and more anxious on some topic and finally decided I would blog about it so it would stop playing out in my head.
Only, once I got here, I found myself scrolling through my WP Reader and reading Your Blogs. And although so many of you are going through so much trouble right now, I find myself feeling like I fit in, like I am somehow part of this community that Annie and a few other bloggers have mentioned recently. And strugglingbutstillfighting, I don’t know if you’ll see this, but your recent post was really powerful for me. Although it stemmed from nearly ending your life the other night, the determination at the end of your post, the tone of your “voice”, to turn this life around, even though nothing had really changed outside of yourself, was really something. It really motivates me again to hurry up and find some place to volunteer – that’s personally how I want to fulfill that aspect of finding “meaning” in my life.
I just feel so much more at peace after having “dropped in” on so many of Your Blogs tonight. OOhhh I never got to the funny part of all this: The funny part is that I’m totally calm now and literally have NO IDEA what I was going to post about in the first place! 😀
P.S. I’m going to do a Journal post tomorrow, but only one. Then, I will do no Journal posts on Wednesday.
***CAUTION: GRAPHIC SEX TALK***
Dear Laura Schlessinger,
You ruined two lives.
You say gals MUST do things
To call themselves ‘wives’.
I can’t sleep because my throat is sore, and because I’m thinking of something kind of negative and it just keeps replaying in my mind. I had tried to hug my uncle goodnight tonight and he acted really uncomfortable. I’ve fucked something up somewhere along the way. I hadn’t expected it to be a big deal because he’d hugged other people earlier in the day. Where have I gone wrong? (Actually, I suspect I know.)
Oh well, you know? Got to let it go. Got to get touch from somewhere else. (I could hire someone from TaskRabbit to give me a hug every day 😉 ….I’m joking. Barely. But I am.) I might look into buying a weighted blanket, too. My skin is absolutely in agony right now and I just really need a hug. My now-ex husband used to just lay on top of me (non-sexual) when I felt this way. I just need the sensation. I need Temple Grandin’s squeeze machine. My eyes are tearing up. I don’t really know what to do for it in the meanwhile. I have three heavy blankets on me right now. I used to sleep with 7 heavy blankets on me.
I’ll go ahead and order a weighted blanket right now. I hope they’re not too expensive.
In other, yet connected, news, I have made my online account at the dating site and have gotten to chat with a couple of people so far. One of them, just by chance, has Asperger syndrome too! We chatted for freaking hours tonight. It was awesome. We totally geeked out and were talking Sci-Fi and stuff. He happens to be a huge fan of my favorite ever series, which is really rare. I’m going to keep screening him online for a while, but I have a feeling that eventually he and I will meet up and go bicycling together.
And yes, I have, in the past, accepted undesired sexual touch when that was all that was available at the time. But I’m not going to do that this time around. I’ll send out to Temple Grandin to build me a fucking squeeze machine if I must.
Okay, so I’m going to go take some pain medicine, probably half a clonazepam, and then order a weighted blanket online. Goodnight, all.
Update: Because it’s really not fair to me, and to anybody around me, to expect others to somehow fulfill my own needs, you know? It’ll ruin any platonic relationship I ever try to have at this point.
[begin boring journal post] This is just another boring journal post. But I want to document this day, too, because I’ve been in a fantastic mood all day, and those deserve their time in the spotlight.
This morning was very INTERESTING. My TaskRabbit called me up for my morning wake-up, and she couldn’t speak! She was totally hoarse from some party she was at last night. I felt so bad for her, trying so hard to talk to me, that I jumped out of bed and went straight to my dresser! Just so I could let her go and not have to talk to me. (I then decided that since I had 2.5 hours of overtime already logged for the week, I let myself lay back down for a little while, and that was fine). But still, the fact that I jumped out of bed with no trouble was very INTERESTING to me… [Soooo, I can get out of bed if it will prevent someone else’s suffering? How can I use THAT as daily motivation? 😛 ]
I’m SO FUCKING EXHAUSTED to the core, but I’m happy. I’ve done work today. I’ve even figured out something to get my aunt and uncle for Christmas, although I don’t know that they celebrate it. And it’s too expensive for me to get on my own, so I’m going to contact my brother and see if he wants to chip in too. It’s something I know they’d really appreciate (and think I’m crazy for buying it for them; it’s something they’ll have to buy some day down the road anyway because I noticed theirs is busted and is the kind of thing they’ll eventually replace).
I skipped lunch again but did snack on peanut butter and GF crackers. So I’m okay. I had a shit breakfast of sugar cereal-so-called-“granola”, and it didn’t kill me today, like it normally does. Or that is aiding to my exhaustion. Either way.
AND I just realized something about five minutes ago – one of my cousins is coming tonight!
I’ve decided that I’m going to start Internet dating again. Yesterday evening, I actually called and spoke with someone I once dated a while back. And it really cheered me up. He has a gentle voice that I could listen to forever. I normally have trouble thinking up questions to ask people, but I came up with a million to ask, if only so I could continue to listen to his voice.
Then at night, before going to bed, my uncle was watching a movie on TV, and I made decision. I walked right over and sat down beside him and rested my head on his shoulder and finished watching the movie with him that way. If I weirded him out, I don’t even care. Physical contact is the best damn anti-depressant there is on the planet for me. I hate that this culture often thinks of physical contact between non-romantic-partners as inappropriate. I can REMEMBER every time I had physical contact between the grades of 6 and 12. I can COUNT it out. That’s how damn important it is to me. It’s up there with food, water and shelter. In fact, I’d rank it higher than food and shelter for me.
I think it’s so stupid that “sex” gets ranked on the needs scale, but not platonic physical contact. I personally think it’s MUCH more of a “need”. People DO survive without sex – there are people who devote their lives that way. But without physical contact of any sort? I’d literally quit life. There would be no hope, no point, no purpose for proceeding. Maybe the shell of my body could technically survive with just the food and water and shelter, but the rest would not. The drive to eat goes away without it. The urge to seek shelter goes away without it. (Sorry, thirst stays #1 for me. 🙂 ).
(Ironically, the sugar crash just hit. I am trembling and weak, but just ate some stuff that will help.)
Again this morning, my uncle suggested I switch to working half time come this January, because I’ve been so exhausted. I probably should.
It’s not funny, but it is an “I told you so” so that’s rewarding. 😉 😉 When he was first pushing me to get a job, after I had been living with them for maybe a month or two already?, I had a HUGE meltdown. I was crying uncontrollably and couldn’t talk about it for a long time. At some point, I told him I was scared shitless of being employed again. Scared because it removes all possibility of life outside of work because I get so exhausted. I did NOT want a job, except a really, really stupid, no-brainer, no-pressure half-time job. So I had a meltdown over the prospect of work. And was so upset about it for at least a week. But then a job opportunity happened along and I couldn’t pass it up! So here I am, working full time and doing absolutely nothing else (except this blog). I haven’t even gone to meditation again because I’ve been too tired. I did text my “friend” that I met there once, though. 🙂 Mostly it was just a thank-you note for her help in encouraging me and teaching me how to take care of my insurance issues. But I had to do something to reach out. I don’t want that contact to die away. If she has any energy, I’m wondering if I could invite her over to my aunt & uncle’s place to visit with me there. They said it would be okay. I just need to get up the nerve to invite her (I have no clue if she would or not). She knits. Maybe I could invite her to a knit-night with me! I can’t remember if I brought my needles with me here or not.
Anyway, yeah, I think that vitamin suggestion is great. I totally screwed up on getting the new health insurance so I’m stuck with the super freaking incredibly expensive one still for now. But the plus side is I’m sure I’ve met my deductible by now and it’s almost time for me to get my bloodwork done. So that should go smoothly. (And I won’t ask the phlebotomist to inject air into my vein this time.) Truthfully, I always hope that it’ll show my thyroid out of wack, because in my dreams, once my thyroid gets to a proper adjustment, I won’t feel tired ever again… It hasn’t happened that way a single time, but I always hope.
I eat my soup straight out of the can without warming it up (because I don’t want to dirty any dishes). I like to pretend I’m eating dog food. If only I just got cheap shit soup, I’d be really happy with myself for saving money on it, too. But I end up getting the GF, vegan soup. My favorite is lentil vegetable.
Now you know. And I’m sure you’re glad of it. 😉 [/end boring journal post]
P.S. I’m super scared about the upcoming holidays period. It’s going to be another party type dinner, I’m sure, and I failed so badly at the last one. Also, it’ll be my first time here for holidays. And then after that, I fly to my grandfather’s memorial. Someday, I want to write a post about 1) flying, 2) why I swear (I actually force myself to swear, even though it might offend some of you. There’s a reason. When I have more time, I want to write it out).
And oh my GOD I am SO SCARED because after the memorial, my dad is coming back with me. But ohmygod my dad, some of you saw the huge post I wrote about him, is mildly on the autism spectrum, more than me, and he can’t read people and he can’t filter and you know my uncle has already been poisoned toward my dad because of what my brother was saying (it’s all in that post). And my mom can’t come, so who will be there to protect him? I’m really scared for him. But I so look forward to spending time with him and getting to show him the places I go around here. But you know what I’m picturing — with the amount of alcohol potentially to be ingested by both him and my uncle, how could it possibly go well? And if politics is brought up, there will be an explosion. Not that my dad is argumentative but his has an opinion period. And my uncle has an opinion period. And they don’t differ that much but it doesn’t even matter when two people Who Have An Opinion Period start on that topic. I need to not worry ahead of time, though, you know? No sense in spending weeks worrying and THEN having something bad happen. May as well have these weeks be smooth first and THEN have the bad happen and deal with it only the once, right? 😉
I feel so much gratitude and warmth right now. I’m not going to go into details (amazing, I know), but Thank You, all of you, for being there and being so accepting. Even when my words come out a little crazy and I FEEL a little crazy, there’s always somebody there who is accepting & not judging of it.
I feel a moment of peace, and that’s my only real goal in life.
So hold onto this feeling and aim for this feeling. When the thoughts turn crazy, try to remember it’s okay. Don’t judge your own thoughts. Let the crazy be as crazy as it wants to be and it’s okay. Just let it subside and keep on breathing.
I’m going to continue on this path because that’s who I want to be. This is where I want to head. Don’t judge, don’t blame. Just give yourself the time and move on when you’re ready. Don’t berate yourself for going negative. Don’t hate yourself for expressing negative things. It’s okay.
I’m mostly talking to myself here, but if it helps any of you, all the better. ❤
I had insomnia again last night. My thoughts were too busy to let me rest. And I felt so lonely and wanted a hug. So I sat up and tried meditating on a Koan I mentioned having just learned: “Can I bear this happiness?” At first, I couldn’t connect. I wasn’t feeling happiness at all. My thoughts scattered across the room. I would whisper the sentence and then a minute would pass with my thoughts all over the damn place. I’d remember what I was doing and whisper it again, and same thing. After at least seven minutes, I did start to focus, and the most amazing things happened. I felt warmth spreading through my body. I felt a little fuzz of joy inside. I smiled. I thought of positive things. It’s really indescribable and amazing. I am astounded that it could get beneath my skin so quickly and make such a difference.
I can’t leave the previous post sitting open on my page like this, so I have to post again to move it down.
So here’s an update. I didn’t fail too badly this weekend. I did sleep through my alarm clock on Saturday, so somebody had to come and wake me up by banging on my door, an hour after we were supposed to have left. But overall, it was a good day. We saw beautiful scenery, walked the dogs, and I saw the ocean, the sunset and random wild deer. And a lot of cows, some of which I really wanted to stop and photograph because of the lighting.
On Sunday, I got up at noon. It’s later than I would like, but so much better than 4 p.m. I’ve been in a bit of a funk since then. I didn’t sleep well on one of those nights, although I don’t remember which one. I was in a definite funk today, but realize this evening that I’d forgotten to take my damn meds again this morning. (It’s not the meds that make me mad, it’s the act of forgetting them yet again.) And that they cost me $175 (generic!) at the pharmacy on Sunday.
I feel like I’m going down in my mood and that this time it’s going to last a while. I can just tell. I’ve been really good for at least three weeks, maybe four, but I feel it going downhill and I don’t really know why. I feel like I’m not getting enough exercise and I’m not sleeping well again. If I’m not going to take my new sleep medicine, then I should go back to the clonazepam. I guess I stopped taking the new medicine because someone I live with right now expressed a strong opinion that I shouldn’t be taking it. I “shouldn’t” give a shit what other people think of me and my choices and all that but alas … of course I do! Y’all know that already. No sense in me pretending otherwise, even though I know it’s the “right” thing to say.
I’m not sure why I feel so lazy. I suggested and followed through on a bike ride yesterday (biked to the pharmacy to get my freaking expensive medicine). I went on several walks the day before.
I did two chores yesterday but it’s not enough. I feel lazy and unproductive and unhelpful. I’ve been very cranky in the morning for the past two or three mornings. My TaskRabbit helped me get through it this morning (even though I actually fell asleep while talking with her at one point!). She’s so amazingly upbeat and keeps trying to find things that will interest and motivate me. She’s definitely worth the money. I am so glad my therapist told me about the TaskRabbit services.
I’m frustrated, too, that I keep goofing off instead of finding people to talk with in person. I NEED to attend a meet-up group this week. I WANT it to be directly after work, but there is this super-tempting one this Sunday that I REALLY want to attend. It’s another meditation-related one. And it starts after noon, so it might be possible. Maybe I will see if my TaskRabbit can work this Sunday morning for me! I don’t know if she does weekend tasks or not.
Ooohhhh you know what? I missed meals all weekend. That is always a good way to bring on a funk. All I ate was cereal basically, until dinner. That’s super unhealthy for me and always affects my energy levels and mood drastically. I’m hypoglycemic and I’m not supposed to eat that kind of crap unless it’s a small portion with an otherwise protein-and-fiber filled meal, to make it break down and enter the blood stream more slowly.
On the plus side, a good funk helps me feel more creative. I might even doodle later. I haven’t sketched or anything at all since my divorce. This blog is the most creative I’ve been since then. Part of why I love this blog so much is because it motivates me to take pictures again, which I’d stopped caring about for a while there. ❤
But yeah, I think my current mood funk is why I’ve been contemplating the things I’ve been posting about just recently. Kinda gray. But I know I’ll be okay soon enough and it won’t last. If only I can get out of my funk by TOMORROW, it could be a special day. But I do feel this is going to last a while before it leaves.
P.S. I’m not going to write tomorrow. I enforce that kind of thing whenever I know I’ve been posting “too often” (by whose standards? my own?). I’ll write again either on Wednesday or Thursday.
I just finished the post on childhood abuse. And it lead me to think of dissociation. When I came back from college with my first mental breakdown, one of the things I was diagnosed with was a dissociative disorder. The therapist told my parents, behind my back, that I would never recover from it. They grieved and grieved and were in a very bad place for a long time after that. THANKFULLY the therapist was WRONG. After two years, I was able to feel alive again. More on that to come.
I’m going it do my best to describe dissociation as I experience it. I’ll work backwards, for now. So when I came back from college, so very many things were going on. I was barely alive. I should have been hospitalized but my parents are too scared of such things ruining the future (they didn’t know I was so suicidal). I couldn’t feel, physically. I had no sense of touch anymore. I could close my eyes and touch both a pile of feathers and a pile of sandpaper and not be able to tell them apart.
I was having experiences like hearing somebody talking but not understanding what they were saying and not recognizing the voice….and then realizing it was my OWN voice. I was talking but was so far apart from myself, I didn’t know I was talking and didn’t know what I was saying. I would see a hand reach for a doorknob in front of me and not recognize it as my own hand. At one point, in the midst of the most stressful point of college, the part that lead to the destruction of everything, my vision altered, too. The horizon became diagonal, although my head was straight.
I could go places and experience nothing from it. I wasn’t there. It wasn’t that I was looking down on myself from above — I wasn’t there at all.
At some point, I picked up a childhood dog puppet. Scared my parents TO DEATH. But I could “show” the world to the soft, friendly dog puppet I’d had forever. I could walk around the world and point things out to the dog puppet, and that is how I started to “see” things in the world again. My mom actually allowed me to take the dog puppet with me everywhere I went for like two years during this time. That’s huge for her. There are pictures of me at a music workshop in another state, me wearing the dog puppet and looking out at the ocean, and the dog puppet looking out at the ocean.
The first time I actually experienced reality again was in my childhood bedroom — I had my hand out my bedroom window and suddenly felt a breeze on my hand. That was the first feeling I’d had in two years. It marked the start of recovery from the dissociation. Up until then, we were all told and believed that it was going to be a permanent condition for me. (I made no commitments to life or to stay alive at that point.)
Since then, I was quite afraid of travel in general, for fear it would cause me to dissociate again. But NO, I have NOT gone through another phase like this. THANK GOD.
So when did I first learn to dissociate? Anyone who read my previous post already knows. Childhood ‘abuse’. There were more times than I can tell you for all the times I dissociated as a child. For example, when he pinned me down, held my eye open and touched my eyeball with the eraser of a pencil (yep, that started some OCD symptoms, too — like the fear of me stabbing my own eyes out with metal hangers, that I’ve previously mentioned). You can’t be present for that. Where do you think you go? That is dissociation. I would simply not be present when he would pin me down and do things to me. But not just for physical things — it’s also useful in events of verbal stress. Like if someone is yelling at me.
That’s how I deal with stressful verbal situations today. If you’re going to trap me in “conversation” in which I can’t respond and can’t escape physically, then I’ll mentally escape.
It comes in handy for other things, too, like when a kid throws up on your leg and you’re still 15 minutes away from your destination and can’t do anything about it until then… Just turn your head and go someplace else mentally.
I don’t feel like I’ve described this very well. I’ll probably go back through and add some links later.
I’m hesitant to write this post due to the chance that anybody in my family might someday come across this. But I sense that several of my new “followers” (terrifying still) have experienced some similar childhood messages, so I want to write about it. Writing really helps me think, even though it often comes out as a big mess. I’ll just try to avoid some specifics.
When I was in elementary school, I received some very strong, literal verbal messages from an older kid who I spent lots of time with every day in elementary school. He was awesome and I worshipped the ground he walked on. (Enter start of my screwed up relationships with people, anyone?) Anyway, so the word I’ve learned to describe this is “abuse”. He was abusive toward me. I’m going to focus just on the verbal aspect right now. And although I have read and read and studied on the topic of abuse since then, I still couldn’t tell you if this is “verbal” “emotional” or whatever abuse. I don’t get the difference between some of the different types.
Anyway (focus! I wonder if I can get through this). So this kid was really into psychology and psychological experiments. I do wonder what he’d studied, now. How could he have been so smart? Anyway. So one of his messages to me was, “If you don’t have anything interesting to say, then don’t say anything at all.” This was his own variation to what my parents used to tell me (“If you don’t have anything nice to say, then don’t say anything at all”). He followed through on this by not allowing me to speak. If I opened my mouth, I got physical threats or maybe things thrown at me. I became semi mute for a while in elementary school. I believe I did speak at school and at home a little still, but not very much. One of my goals in life became to literally one day grow up and be the mute servant to a king. It’s what I wanted. That literal image. I became proud to do anything this person required of me, at the moment he required it. I jumped if you said jump. I ducked if you threatened. I dropped to the floor and went limp if you ran at me like you were going to attack me. You had me lick dirt off your shoes to show off your training of me in front of your friends, and I did it and I was proud of your training.
There were many times I was sure I was going to die. You held me under water in swimming pools until I panicked. You picked me up with one arm by my throat and held me there until I was panicking (OCD symptoms came after that one — NOTHING could touch my throat for many years — no necklaces, no shirt collars, nothing could even BUMP my throat, I was so afraid of strangulation). You held me over like you were going to throw me off the side of a mountain.
But I never knew anything was wrong with this, at the time. I never told anybody. I screamed when I saw you enter the same room as me, and adults came at first, but it would be unprovoked at that point and I wouldn’t have any words to explain, so in the end, I started to get in trouble for screaming for no cause.
I didn’t start to really speak, in general, until I was out of elementary school and away from you. I remember my parents commenting on how much more I was talking at home, and wondering about that. But I never thought to tell them about you. It just never even occurred to me.
In 8th grade, I was writing in my journal at 1 a.m. with my blue light on (that’s in a previous post), and I had a flashback, to you pinning me down under a heavy object and touching me sexually. That was the first time it had come to my mind since it happened. Yet it still never occurred to me to tell anybody. (Besides, you weren’t in my life anymore.) But it was your words that stayed with me the most, not the touch. You made me ashamed of myself in all ways possible. Your words had more meaning and humilation than I could ever hope to describe to anybody. (They’re still too shameful to even write here in an anonymous blog.)
In high school, my mom forced me into family counseling because I had stopped talking with her (she offended me with a question one night, and I told myself I’d never speak to her again. I already had good training for not-talking, so it wasn’t hard for me). In counseling, I remember the lady asking me many, many times if I had any past abuse, and I thought about it and said no. I didn’t know what you did was abuse. I wasn’t intentionally lying — I really didn’t consider that abuse. It was just part of my past, part of my life. It didn’t occur to me to say anything. It didn’t even cross my mind. I was diagnosed with depression, which marks my first official diagnosis of anything.
(In middle school, my whole family went to a counseling session for my brother, because he was getting depressed and stuff. I remember that appointment because it was a trip to the big city for me. I was already very depressed by this point. It was a very gray day outside (summer), which I loved, and made me want to cry. I sat on a sofa, looking out the window at the gray cars below (we were not on the first floor, so I was looking down on a street). I recall nothing else from the entire day. But I later learned that the counselor had asked me my grade level after the appointment, and I didn’t answer because I wasn’t sure if he was asking what grade I had just finished, or the one I was going to be starting after summer). After the appointment, he pulled my mom aside and told her that he thought it was me who needed to be in counseling. I am not sure why she didn’t persue that. But what kills me is that somehow he had asked her what my favorite movie was, and she told him it was Journey to Spirit Island, and he then revealed to her that he was wearing an amulet!!!! I BELIEVE HE COULD HAVE CHANGED MY LIFE. IF ONLY she had let him talk with me. IF ONLY I could have his name and track him down. I was SO religious/spiritual back then. On the other hand, I was so screwed up back then, I would have latched on to him so much and followed him to the ends of the earth, I am sure.)
The point of this post was in the messages I received in elementary school. I wonder it is valid to think that that’s probably why I still feel like a “phony” and so inferior to everyone around me. He told me over and over again for years that I was ugly, stupid, worthless, etc. That everyone who seemed to like me was just faking because they pitied me. He set me up to tell one of his friends that I liked him, only to be hiding with other friends around the corner, who then all came out and laughed at me. He told me I had nothing to offer, that nobody wanted to hear me. He picked on my physical features and told me how each feature made me ugly.
To date, I am ashamed of my face. I feel very ugly. I always feel ugly. No matter what clothes I wear, I feel dirty and ugly. No matter how much I pay to have my hair done, I feel stupid and ugly. And unclean. He made me ashamed of my body and my thoughts. Oh my god, my legs. SO MUCH shame about my legs. If he ever saw my legs, he made me cover them up because they were so ugly (I had eczema all over my legs back then). Now I have the scars from the eczema on my legs. I feel they’re so ugly, I try never to show them, but I did this-past summer. I wore a skort a lot. I even shaved them. But I still feel they are hideous).
So what I’m wondering is, can messages given to you in childhood still have such a strong effect on you today? Can this really be the cause of some of today’s insecurities? Or is it just a “bullshit excuse” I use to be less than 100% today?
Yet to this day, if someone advances toward me rapidly with the body language of physical attack, I will still play dead. (Then he couldn’t carry me as easily/ as far.)
I’m going to talk about dissociation at some point in this blog, too. Maybe I’ll start a new post for it right now.