fuckity fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck (trigger warning)

[catharsis_logs]

I wish I could stop judging myself by my interactions with other people. I wish I valued the judgments of other people less, especially people I admire. If I make a mistake or act stupid or say something insensitive in front of someone and they express disapproval or annoyance (or even get a funny look on their face) I feel like I instantly turn into the seven year old who pissed off mommy and is being grabbed by the chin with sharp nails and rings on every finger and forced to look her in the face and told how much of a failure, a disappointment, a loser, a piece of worthless shit that doesn't deserve love for any mistake I make.

She taught me from a very young age that any mistake I made was worth my debasement. I embarrassed her in public and she was The Best Mother Ever to other adults while her nails were digging holes in my arm. I was supposed to shower her in apologies any time I did something she considered 'bad'. One time she caught me sneaking downstairs to get a board game in the middle of the night when my best friend was upstairs and my friend didn't understand why I was having a panic attack, crying my eyes out and writing "I'm sorry" over and over again in a notebook after I got back upstairs.

She was the one who taught me to cry silently. She was the one who taught me to be invisible, to not interfere when her attention was on someone else because at least it wasn't on me. She's the one who taught me to apologize for anything and everything. She taught me to be afraid of playing because god help me if I got stains on my clothes. I got grass stains on my pants one time and people couldn't understand why I was freaking out.

I'm glad she's fucking dead and yet she still colors my interactions with other people(someone points their finger at me in a confrontational way: panic attack). She still colors the way I think about myself, she still colors the way I react to accidents (if I accidentally break something: instant panic attack). I have nightmares about her being not dead and everything returning to 'normal'. I WANT HER OUT OF MY FUCKING MIND

Comments

[enemyofperfect]

I don't know what to say except that that's horrible, and I'm sorry you're still clawing your way through so much of it.

And maybe also -- let me know, if there's anything it would be good/bad to hear, in this kind of context, from me? For all my love of open communication, I have a strong tendency to just fall back on my instincts and hope I muddle through somehow, instead of asking, but when it comes to chronic pain and the legacy of your mother's amazingly terrible parenthood, I feel like I'm more than usually likely to get it wrong. So just. Let me know if there's something more I could do, or that you'd like me to stop doing, okay? ♥

*hugs*

[catharsis_logs]

Basic words of comfort and vague reassurances are really really nice. Validation is something I got at PSU from people who *surprise* weren't counselors/psychiatrists/psychologists (I've had a bad run of those, though my current one is pretty cool) and I've never really realized before how empowering a simple validation can be. One of my favorite people at school became one of my favorites and most trusted because when I came to them with emotional pain and I need to talk pretty much all they did was act as reflective sources of comfort and "Wow, that really sucks, I can totally understand why you would feel that way" and "it's totally valid to feel what you're feeling right now" and basically what you said in your comment above. :)

*hugs back*

[enemyofperfect]

Basic and vague, I think I can do. ♥ And hey, yay acquiring a better mental health professional after a string of bad ones?