The Grief of Acceptance

     Today a person in my primary support group reached out in an effort to identify why she was feeling so much sadness and low worth.  She has been on no contact status with her abusive mother for four weeks now, and this is the third time doing it over the past several years.  Resuming contact in the past was in hopes that things would be better, and she is realizing that that hope has been in vain.  The first time she cut off contact, she grieved the loss of a mother.  The second time, she claimed her identity as a person. This time she felt a deep sadness whose origins she was having difficulty identifying.

     There are so many layers of grief that come with this territory of saying "No more!" and letting go.  As I was reading comments from other members reassuring her that what she is going through is normal and part of the process, it occurred to me that another aspect to the grief that she is feeling this time might have something to do with finality--an acceptance on her part that her mother is not going to change.  I think there is a sense of hope that we as survivors instilled in ourselves from a young age that things COULD change.  For me that hope stemmed from a basic belief that all people are essentially good, and thinking that if I could only get it right then I could have the carrot my mother was always dangling in front of me but never really allowing me to have (her acceptance).  It was also part of how I survived--it was too frightening to consider as a child that my mom was that dangerous and that that's just how it was.  Feeling that it was my fault and that I could therefore fix what was wrong felt much safer, although it was terrible for my self-esteem.  Realizing that what was  essentially wrong had nothing to do with me but was her stuff has been freeing, but has also brought grief as I've worked on accepting that it's not fixable.  It is a harsh reality to accept that you really never had a mother in the sense of what a mother is supposed to be.  It is hard to accept that you were really never loved because this person simply does not love--her overriding emotion is a need to feel superior to everyone else, her own children included.  Because of this we never received the true love and nurturing that a child is supposed to be able to receive.  Grieving that loss is huge, and acceptance that it will never be what you always held out hope for brings another layer of grief.

     I'm learning to sit with grief and sadness when it comes up.  I'm trying to do that without distracting myself through food, shopping or keeping myself ridiculously busy.  I'm trying to learn to allow myself to just "be."  Doing this isn't easy, but when I have done it I have learned a lot about myself and gained better understanding and insight to myself as a person.  I've been able to make sense of why I feel the way I do about certain things or why I have certain behaviors or responses.  And those things in turn have helped me to grow as a person.  I have so much less fear and anxiety than I had even six months ago and it feels really good.

Circus? No Thanks

     I have a LOT that I need to catch up on, but today I'm going to do a couple of posts concerning conversations that happened today.

     One thing I am really happy about in regards to my healing is how much stronger my boundaries have become.  As a child of a narcissist, I was taught that I had no rights and that anything I wanted or needed were secondary to what my mother's wants and desires were.  This extended past her and to everyone around me, through the ways that she defined my role in the family.  Often I was given the message that I was selfish if I didn't give younger siblings what they wanted, even to the extent that my privacy was invaded. Some of my siblings, and one in particular was a "master mind" at this, caught on to the game so well that they learned to manipulate situations in such a way that they got away with things and managed to get me in trouble in the process.  If I would try to defend myself I was chastised because they were younger than me, and how dare I pick on the younger kids like that?

     As I matured I tended to gravitate to friends who were either "friends," meaning that they were controlling and took advantage of me, or to kids who were shunned by my peers.  I felt sorry for the latter and wanted to be kind, but I think that in a way I also felt more comfortable.  I was in a little bit better of a place than they were and they weren't as difficult to interact with as the majority of the kids.  With the kids who tended to take advantage of me, I can see where having a parent who treated me the way she did conditioned me to gravitate to those kinds of kids and yearn to be accepted by them.  When you have a parent who dangles acceptance like carrot in front of you constantly, that becomes normal to you and so it becomes a familiar thing that you are drawn to outside of the home.  For the longest time I couldn't figure out why as I've gone through life I've always managed to find myself in the position of either being used for what someone could get out of me or often feeling like a "third wheel" and being overlooked.  As I have learned more about narcissism and narcissistic abuse, it has helped me to understand that dynamic.

The more I have pulled back from interacting with my mother, the stronger my boundaries have become. I've spent quite a bit more time alone over this past year, outside of my own husband and children, as I've become unwilling to put myself in situations where I am used.  It's been very interesting to see the people who have naturally dropped out of my life because I am no longer the girl who says yes to everything and is so desperate for approval.  In some instances it has been hurtful, but it has also been gratifying to me to realize that I recognize characteristics in people now whom I would be better off staying away from.  I've realized that the relationships that have dropped out of my life really weren't worth having in the first place.  I would rather have a small, genuine group of people around me than a large number of people who are insincere and only have their own interests at heart.

     Every now and then I almost get pulled into thinking that a small interaction with my mother is safe, and every time I do I end up sorry.  I'm no longer having the violent physiological reactions to the things that do occur, and I'm so thankful for that.  But it always puts me in some kind of compromising situation, and I'm just better off not going there.

     Today I saw a quote that really grabbed my attention.  I think the context it was given in was intended to be different than how it struck me, but WOW!!!  It was powerful in the way I saw it:

"Entertain a clown, become part of the circus."

     
I'm going to copy this and put it on my refrigerator and/or make some kind of art project out of it to hang somewhere (hello, tole painting--we really need to become acquainted again).  It really says it all when you put it in the context of what the consequences are of engaging a narcissist.  No matter how good and pure your intentions and no matter how well-behaved you are, you will become part of their circus.  And I'm much happier not being a part of the show.

Evidences of Healing

     I probably should have updated the blog here a lot sooner than now, especially with what a downer my last post was.  I didn't realize until a couple of months ago that I had gone so long without posting and have meant to update, but time has gotten away from me.

     I have seen a lot of progress since I last posted, and to start things off I want to share a couple of things that I shared in a support group back in April.  The things I posted about had actually happened a couple of months earlier, so happened right after that last blog post.  After that it has seemed that my healing process has sped up in so many ways, and there are good things happening.

     First I started noticing that I was handling certain situations better than I would have in the past, or that things that once freaked me out weren't doing that anymore.  Then I noticed that where boundaries are concerned, I wasn't having to overthink how to respond in certain situations; I was just automatically responding in healthier ways.  This told me that the things I've been learning and working on had become more integrated.  It has been a cool feeling after the fact to be able to say, "Wow, I handled that really well," and as time has gone on there has been less of a physiological response.  At first, "handling it well" was eliciting kind of a panic letdown response.

     Right around this time I had two things happen in rapid succession that blew my own mind. LOL  The first happened when I went back to an exercise club after avoiding going for quite awhile because my mother goes there and 1)  I didn't want to run into her and 2) I didn't want to deal with question like, "How is your mom doing?"  I finally decided I needed to quit shooting myself in the foot and went back during a time I knew she wouldn't  be there.  As I was signing in the owner said it was good to see me, and then asked how my daughter is (in regards to the health challenges she has been dealing with).  Then she said, "I've been keeping up that way because your mom keeps me updated."  Before I knew what was happening I said, "Huh, that is so weird because she doesn't even speak to me."  She got a little bit of a startled look on her face then leaned forward and with a lowered voice said, "Well, sometimes your mom has kind of an attitude."  I said, "Actually, she has an attitude all. the. time."  And you know what?  I had an awesome workout and I now have a much more comfortable relationship with the owner than I ever have before.  I realized after that incident that I while I do need to use wise judgment as far as how much to say, when and to whom, I don't have to live in fear of every single person on the planet judging me if I don't keep up my mother's fake little facade.  The owner has been so much more relaxed and congenial with me; I don't know if it's just that my manner has changed and I came across as a lot more "Leave me alone," than I realized before, or if it has more to do with her own personal experiences in dealing with my mother.  I suspect a combination of both.  Anyway, it felt awesome to just call it like it was and not go along with the statement about my mom keeping her updated, because anything she would be saying would be her making stuff up or telling what she might have heard through someone besides me.  I am so done with that crap.

     About two days later I was in the Walmart parking lot getting ready to leave.  This lady parked next to me and slammed into the passenger side of my van when she opened her door and was about to go on her way without even checking for damage.  I was kind of stunned but then rolled my window down and said, "Excuse me, did you just hit my van/'  She stopped and said, "Yes ma'am, just a little bit."  I said, "Is there a dent in it?" and she then checked and said no.  Then I asked her if she would have checked it if I hadn't said anything and she said, "Yes, ma'am."  I then said, "Okay then," and rolled my window back up.  And then I was like, "What did I just do???"  Once upon a time I would have just let her go on her way and then been upset for the rest of the night.  Totally did not see that coming!!!

     Besides these events being huge in and of themselves, what really stunned me was how automatic and spontaneous my responses were.  They were instant and the thought process was completely in the moment.  That told me right away that I was making a lot of progress internally.

     I have more to write about, but that seemed like a good way to get back on here and say howdy. :)

Who Am I, Anyway???

    I have really been struggling with depression lately.  There are a lot of factors playing into it and I know this is just part of the process.  Lately I have just felt so despondent and like things are never going to get better.

    I am still working through spiritual abuse issues, and expect that this will be an ongoing process.  As I mentioned in this post a little bit back, I am working through a book called The Subtle Power of Spiritual Abuse. I have to take it in chunks because so much resonates with me; I can't plow through it.  I will probably go back and read it a second time after I am done with it, keeping a notebook with me to write down thoughts as they occur to me as I'm reading.  I'm amazed at how the authors nail on the head so many of the feelings and internal struggles I have had all of my life, including conflicting feelings about God and feeling so much guilt over having those feelings that I have felt paralyzed and that I needed to up my outer performance in order to be in good graces with Him.

    As different things have come to my mind regarding my parents' treatment of me, I've realized how often my dad really was very unkind to me.  Some of the things he would say to me were really mean and things that I don't believe any father should ever say to a daughter.  For a long time I've seen my dad as the "Good Parent" because my mother is the one I had to deal with most of the time.  My dad had a fun sense of humor and I think he meant well in a lot of ways, but the more I learn about abusive family systems it is so plain to me that he was a classic enabler as far as my mom was concerned.  I turned to him so many times in tears, wanting him to help me and protect me, and he usually just backed her up and I would get a lecture on what I had done to deserve the treatment I got (based on what she would tell him).  There were so many times that he made me responsible, through both reactions and things he would say to me, for his and my mothers' emotional well-being; like if they were unhappy it was my fault.  I guess I really had some nerve deciding to be born (maybe they should have used birth control awhile longer before deciding to become parents if having that responsibility was going to make them so miserable).  I wasn't celebrated; I was tolerated.

    I've been watching parts of the Winter Olympics, and love watching the figure skating.  I think it must be such an amazing feeling to have parents who are so supportive of your dreams and desires, and who encourage and believe in you.  One of the skaters I watched from Thursday, from Italy, is a former Olympic contender who almost didn't come back after some devastating losses from previous Games.  She decided to come back one last time at the urging of her mother, who told her to just skate for the joy of skating.  I didn't see the short programs but her long program was beautiful and an absolute triumph.  They showed her mother hugging her afterward saying, "Do you see?  Do you believe now?"  What an amazing feeling that must be!

    Something I am feeling so keenly is grief over what might have been.  How different could my life have been if I was adored and encouraged, instead of torn down and humiliated on a regular basis? What if I had been born to parents who weren't so injured themselves that they would have nurtured my self esteem instead of screaming at me that they couldn't understand why my self-esteem was so low?  What if my feelings had been validated and I would have been listened to when I was hurting?  What if I hadn't had to fight to make every single opportunity for myself that I got? What if I had felt God as a loving, empowering force to joyfully embrace instead of this supreme, angry being to be feared any time I made a mistake?  What if I could have been free to just discover myself without all of the constraints and fears that were drilled into me, and could have been allowed to be the joyful little being that I naturally was instead of being seen as someone who needed to be broken?  What if I hadn't dealt with so much trauma that I wasn't constantly walking around in a daydreamy haze and could have actually comprehended the things going on around me and interacted in a normal way with my peers? At my age (I am 47), I am feeling like all the pieces that are coming together are too little, too late.

    In a lot of ways, I feel very lost.  I don't really know who I am. I'm realizing with more and more clarity that almost everything that I involved myself in, including talents/abilities I cultivated, I did in an effort to be accepted and to fit in somewhere.  I'm not sure I even really know what my true nature is because I had to use adaptive behaviors to survive by the time I was three years old.  I had to gauge situations for volatility and then chose behaviors that would serve my well-being in the best way, and many times what I chose was extreme opposites:  either super-perform for oohs and ahs and applause, or to try and be invisible.  The way I latched on to religion was a way to be a "good girl" and not get into trouble, and since there were nice teachers there who liked me for being well-behaved in class and knowing all the answers, that was somewhere that I sought approval from.  Now that the scales are falling from my eyes and I'm looking at things as they really are and how they have truly fit into my life, I feel a kind of nothingness.  I don't know what defines me. The way I am chaffing at the bit as far as church goes is getting me increased isolation as well, because this is not desirable behavior in a church member.  If I were to freely speak my mind to other church members whom I have considered to be my friends, they wouldn't want anything to do with me because I would be considered to be falling into forbidden paths that lead to "apostacy," and therefore a bad influence. So really, if I were being outwardly truthful about how I am feeling, I would probably lose most of the friendships I have.

Intuition/Feelings of Warning vs. Plain Old Worry

    One of the things that has been baffling for me to distinguish has been identifying whether I'm getting true intuition/guidance from higher power or just being a paranoid worrywart when I get a feeling of warning about something.  Usually my gut feelings are pretty much right on, but I have had a few times where I've absolutely been wrong (at least from anything I've been able to determine from what is visible).

    In my last post I referred to an incident of "mom-worry."  This happened several weeks ago.  I wasn't sure what to make of it afterward.  I had a hard time trusting my initial feelings of unease for a long time and would second-guess those feelings, which I know now put my children in harm's way (like letting my mom have access to them because of wanting to give her a chance to be a grandmother to them and have her be a significant part of their lives) more than once.  My counselor explained to me that your body is designed to let you know when there is danger, but when you are abused you learn to not trust that and it gets screwed up.  I can totally see where it first got messed up because of my mom's games and cruelty; it was further damaged by various kinds of abuse from other people, as well, when I was young.  For most of my life I heard, "You're so suspicious/paranoid/over-reactive," so as an adult when I've had those feelings my first inclination, if not impulsively freaking out unnecessarily, I've second-guessed by telling myself I'm just being a worry-wart.

    With the incident that happened several weeks ago, I turned out to be wrong.  The conclusions I drew were really scary and when I acted on the push I felt to go and check on the person I couldn't find them and it made things worse for me internally.  I had the biggest adrenaline surge and truly thought there was an assault going on; even after eating I felt like my blood sugar was low.  I had not had this drastic of a response in a really long time; after the fact it reminded me of another time just before my daughter's 3rd grade year when I thought I was prompted about something where I think it turned out that I was wrong.  I have felt completely lost on how to distinguish when that is going on versus when action is called for.

    I asked for suggestions on this and got a lot of good responses. Collectively it was generally agreed that it's better to act on those feelings when they come than to ignore them; better safe than sorry.  Most of the time there is probably a reason you are feeling that way, and better to not beat yourself up for the times when you are wrong.  One of the members said that when she has total peace about something then she knows it is her true intuition, the whisper from her Higher Power whom she chooses to call God, that is working in and through her.  When she has anxiety, doubt, fear, feeling of unrest then she knows it's her PTSD.  A lot of the other posters agreed with her.  I remember the first time many years ago when I started to realize that maybe I was having far more fear responses than "promptings" that something was wrong or not to do something when I was sitting in church one day and during one of the lessons they said that fear is never of the Spirit.

    Still working through this, and it will probably take me quite awhile to get it right.  It's hard to wrap my head around how getting a prompting regarding someone being in danger, etc. wouldn't involve a feeling of fear or similar negative feeling, because in those instances something is wrong.  I can't see how that would involve a feeling of peace.  Added to the mix for me is the fact that I really never felt a sense of everything being okay as I was growing up because there was so much emotional upheaval on an ongoing basis.  I was always stepping on eggshells; if I didn't tread carefully I was in for it.  So it is really hard to not view the world around me with anxiety, some amount of fear and distrust, etc.

    If you feel so inclined, I would love comments about this (and any other post).  I think this is an area of common difficulty among those of us who deal with PTSD, and it would be great to have additional thoughts and insights so that we can all learn from each other.  So if you feel so inclined, feel free to chime in on comments (this is always welcome on any post, so long as comments are respectful).

Helpful Remedy For the "After" of a Panic Attack

    I meant to post this some time ago.  I asked for help with managing adrenal letdown several weeks ago after an incident of mom-worry that ended up not being what I thought it was, but the conclusions I was drawing in my head were so frightening that I had a LOT of adrenaline pumping.  The adrenaline letdown I had after that was a doozy.  Even several hours later, after eating, resting, drinking water, etc. I was so lightheaded and had the hardest time focusing on anything.  The altered focus, etc. was still evident a few days later, and I was so fatigued.  This is one of the things that led to me going back on medication, which I talked about in this post.

    Any way, the suggestion given to me was to take an epsom salt bath  with 4-6 cups salts (I misread and have used 2 cups salts and this has been beneficial) in the hottest water you can stand.  Soak for at least 30 minutes.  This is a proven way to increase cellular magnesium as well as sulfate--both of which neutralize and then detoxify the adrenaline.  Take a glass of water in there with you and be sure to hydrate.  She recommended soaking for 45 minutes before bed, which helps you to sleep well despite the earlier stress response.

    I haven't done it with the larger amount of salts, but I find that I am taking epsom salts baths at least 3 times per week lately.  It's become almost an auto-pilot response to feeling anxiety lately LOL. I also add about 5 drops of essential oil into the bath; I love rose oil an have also used lavender, lemon and sweet marjoram (separately).  It's amazing how much better I feel just being in the water, apart from adding anything else to it. I've noticed this whenever I get into a swimming pool--I feel my whole body relax. Don't know if that's because I'm a scorpio or what, but I'm totally a water baby.

Onions, Juggling Balls and Exposed Wires

    I was just glancing at the subtitle under the name of my blog here, where it says, "Working Each Day Toward Wholeness."  It seems a little ironic for how crappy I'm feeling today, but I'm also reminded of a time in my life several years ago that was very dark, and how I realized that progress can look very different from day to day, and that applies to what our best is, as well.  My best effort on one day may look outwardly like I have a lot on the ball because of getting many "checklist tasks" done, finishing projects, having a full work schedule, etc. but yet another day my great accomplishment is that I'm vertical and moving.

    It's great to understand that and I'm glad I came to that realization that long ago, but the lack of consistency really frustrates me.  I am the kind of person who likes to be busy and out there, but I swear that most of my adulthood has been such a struggle that way.  When I was younger, especially during my college years, I was busy ALL THE TIME, often overextending myself and keeping too many balls in the air--and in a lot of ways I was great at it.  Now it feels like all my balls fell to the ground and occasionally I find one and am able to to toss it up and catch it for a bit before becoming so exhausted that I don't even have the energy to remember where I let it land when I'm done with it.

    Today my nerves are shot.  I haven't gotten a full night's sleep in about a week; I'm often getting to bed too late (even for me) and then only sleeping for about 6 hours.  When night comes I feel a compulsion to stay up, even if I am tired, and my anxiety level is pretty high.  During times like this I become fearful of driving, worry more about my family members' safety when they are out and about, etc.  This past month the anxiety has been worse than it has been in years, and when it rears up this way I feel immobilized.

    Honestly, in some ways it feels like I have regressed by 5 or 6 years.  I have to keep reminding myself that I am in a healing process and that it goes in layers, like peeling an onion (Shrek would agree with me).  You peel back one layer and work through the stuff you find underneath it, and then after a period of time it's pretty cleaned up and you feel better.  Then the next layer starts cracking with the stuff underneath it that needs to come out and you have to deal with that.  Fortunately, my experience has been that although it DOES NOT FEEL LIKE IT SOMETIMES, that next layer doesn't start cracking until your system knows you are strong enough to handle it.

    This spiritual abuse layer I'm working on is brutal and is really doing a number on me.  I was given the recommendation to read the book The Subtle Power of Spiritual Abuse by David Johnson and Jeff Van Vonderen and started it this past week.  It is excellent and I felt a lot of comfort when I started reading it, just in the introductory pages.  As I'm going through it, though, so much is resonating with me and a lot of stuff is coming up.  This is scary territory for me, given how intertwined in my upbringing religious tenets were.  I'm very much going against the grain by looking at this squarely and actually stating my feelings, so on some levels it feels like rebellion (which in and of itself is not allowable if you want to be a faithful person and be in favor with God).  Scary stuff. In some ways I feel like I don't even know who I really am and it's very disconcerting in a lot of ways.

    I was in the car driving home a little bit ago and reflected that I feel like the end of a set of coated wires where all the wires are exposed.  I feel like all my nerve endings are exposed and raw.  It's icky.  But I'm determined to see this process through, rather than go back into denial, stuff my feelings with food or start getting busy to distract myself.