Life is weird
Aug. 12th, 2018 02:14 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
catharsis_logsI'm vacillating between posting here and posting on tumblr. I feel better about posting short stuff on tumblr because then I don't have to do a readmore but also... there are a LOT of porn bots out there and they seem to zero in on original content and my friend (*waves at enemyofperfect*) doesn't get to have the back-and-forth conversations that I like to have as often and I kinda miss that. I appreciate every comment so just know, if you post something I am reading it, I am thinking about you, and I just might not know what to post back. I do better with responding when there are questions because then I know the conversation isn't over which is why *I* get irritated sometimes in my personal communications (text, and texting is the worst for this for me) when someone doesn't respond to a question. It was a source of anxiety and distress with my childhood friend and most of it wasn't either of our faults, we just had shitty cell reception.
[uhhh, I get kind of intense below in discussing trauma, mentions of rape are made, trigger warning for child abuse, emotional and psychological)
Sometimes I feel frozen in amber, as if some of my early life has trapped me in a feeling (thanks PTSD) that I can't seem to escape and I can't seem to explain. I've realized (and this realization is not really new, I'm just articulating it now) that I'm always searching for the answer to the question of "blah blah my mom hated me blah blah why?" Logically I know that there is no answer to that question. She was severely mentally ill, she didn't want to be a mom, but that doesn't make any of what she did okay. She made me feel so unsafe I felt that I couldn't say no to a medical procedure that did traumatize me even if I don't think she was in the room at the time. Her very presence turned something pretty normal for a kid into something that was very borderline rape to my eleven year old brain along with allllll the shame that comes with that kind of situation. I had a yeast infection. A fucking yeast infection. And something made the doctor think he needed to do a pap smear on an eleven-year-old and I didn't feel safe enough to make a 'scene' to say no, because my mother was there. So, not rape, but basically the same thing to an emotionally and psychologically abused little child.
So anyway I had an idea for therapy. I've got to stop searching for things "wrong" with me and then letting that fuel my anxiety and depression.
Edit: And I'm also recovering. Most of the therapists that I've actually become 'close' with have told me that I've improved from when I first walked in their door. When I'm not in the depths of my depression or anxiety I can usually tell this too. So I'm fine. Just have rough days here and there, especially when I'm at my childhood home and I'm not occupied with work/school.
[uhhh, I get kind of intense below in discussing trauma, mentions of rape are made, trigger warning for child abuse, emotional and psychological)
Sometimes I feel frozen in amber, as if some of my early life has trapped me in a feeling (thanks PTSD) that I can't seem to escape and I can't seem to explain. I've realized (and this realization is not really new, I'm just articulating it now) that I'm always searching for the answer to the question of "blah blah my mom hated me blah blah why?" Logically I know that there is no answer to that question. She was severely mentally ill, she didn't want to be a mom, but that doesn't make any of what she did okay. She made me feel so unsafe I felt that I couldn't say no to a medical procedure that did traumatize me even if I don't think she was in the room at the time. Her very presence turned something pretty normal for a kid into something that was very borderline rape to my eleven year old brain along with allllll the shame that comes with that kind of situation. I had a yeast infection. A fucking yeast infection. And something made the doctor think he needed to do a pap smear on an eleven-year-old and I didn't feel safe enough to make a 'scene' to say no, because my mother was there. So, not rape, but basically the same thing to an emotionally and psychologically abused little child.
So anyway I had an idea for therapy. I've got to stop searching for things "wrong" with me and then letting that fuel my anxiety and depression.
Edit: And I'm also recovering. Most of the therapists that I've actually become 'close' with have told me that I've improved from when I first walked in their door. When I'm not in the depths of my depression or anxiety I can usually tell this too. So I'm fine. Just have rough days here and there, especially when I'm at my childhood home and I'm not occupied with work/school.
no subject
Date: 2018-08-13 02:24 am (UTC)And aww, I appreciate hearing that about my comments. <3 Not that I ever hold it against you when you don't reply -- tumblr just isn't as good for conversation, honestly. I know my responses over there tend to be briefer, too, so there's less for you to reply to in any case.
Moving on to the more intense part of your entry...
Trauma is really notorious for freezing emotions just as fresh and terrible as they were to begin with, isn't it? :/ It sounds like you're doing really well at finding perspective even despite the strength of those feelings, though, which is really great. And it's awesome that your therapists can see you improve over the time that they work with you!
As for the medical trauma -- oh my gosh, you have my complete sympathy. I was never in that situation, but starting in my preteens, I was terrified that a doctor might want me to have a pelvic exam, so I can only imagine how awful it was for you. The doctor should have noticed that he was upsetting you and stopped the procedure immediately. I'm so sorry he didn't. You had enough to deal with at home without being hurt by yet another adult you should have been able to trust.