(no subject)
Trauma, whether it is the result of something done to you or something you yourself have done, almost always makes it difficult to engage in intimate relationships. After you have experienced something so unspeakable, how do you learn to trust yourself or anyone else again? Or, conversely, how can you surrender to an intimate relationship after you have been brutally violated? (van der Kolk, The Body Keeps the Score, 13)
On Monday of this week, I had a hysterical episode that I never want to repeat. I was afraid, felt worthless, and my brain went to death--the logic of 'to stop the hurting you must stop yourself from being'. I know how to deal with these feelings and usually am able to reason them away. Someone I love dearly wanted to stop communicating with me because I was trauma bonding and being too clingy. And that led to the episode.
Trauma bonding. I haven't told many people seemingly ever that I was raped when I was young. Or that my stalker ex would try to kill me, fuck me, drug me, and barter drugs with me for sexual acts. I've been telling this person all of the most intimate thoughts and feelings with regards to some of the most intense but least talked about parts of my life. When I talk about Robert, I often talk about him as if it's this funny joke that happened long ago, a distancing technique I now realize I use to avoid reliving the shock and terror that those years were filled with. When I opened up to David, I started realizing my mood shifting. I was waking up sad, feeling bursts of anger for seemingly arbitrary things, acting very out of character, to say the least. I didn't think much about it until that episode on Monday.
I've upped my antidepressants, am taking two different kinds currently, am watching my sugar intake, am trying to exercise more, am engaging in meditation, and am journaling again. My friend Lizzie has been really supportive and lent me this book, The Body Keeps the Score, that maybe it's impossible to not see yourself within. Or this is what I keep on telling myself, because I can't help but see myself within it. I'm realizing now that opening up about those extreme times has triggered dormant feelings that are resulting in PTSD episodes--I mean, I'm no psychiatrist, so I can't diagnose myself, but it fits the script, for sure.
Right now I'm afraid of two things: losing Edward, who has been a supportive and caring person in my life for 14 years, and losing David, who I have an instant and intense connection with, whose words make me smile, and whose voice makes me melt. I want to live inside of David’s mind. I have never felt as connected to anyone in my life. But I think I'm doing them both dirty right now. I can't connect fully. I mean, I can, sure, but what part of me and my relationship attachments is the result of these repressed feelings of guilt and shame and fear and terror? I’m recognizing codependency issues and, while not all codependency is bad, I’m not sure how to tell what is good or what is bad, and I’m not sure if codependency is a stable thing.
David and I are going to be friends, at least for right now-flirty friends instead of plan-our-future-together lovers. Like, we can't not be friends. We are too in sync. And I will be moving from New Mexico, so Edward will become a phone call, which I can do, too. But I'm going to take this time for me, for figuring out me and better understanding what I do. I signed up for new insurance and am excited to start therapy. I'm approaching this thing head on. And, like, yeah, you don't have to heal all at once, I know. But I want to and need to kick some butt in healing soon. I'm feeling energized and excited to become a better version of myself.
On Monday of this week, I had a hysterical episode that I never want to repeat. I was afraid, felt worthless, and my brain went to death--the logic of 'to stop the hurting you must stop yourself from being'. I know how to deal with these feelings and usually am able to reason them away. Someone I love dearly wanted to stop communicating with me because I was trauma bonding and being too clingy. And that led to the episode.
Trauma bonding. I haven't told many people seemingly ever that I was raped when I was young. Or that my stalker ex would try to kill me, fuck me, drug me, and barter drugs with me for sexual acts. I've been telling this person all of the most intimate thoughts and feelings with regards to some of the most intense but least talked about parts of my life. When I talk about Robert, I often talk about him as if it's this funny joke that happened long ago, a distancing technique I now realize I use to avoid reliving the shock and terror that those years were filled with. When I opened up to David, I started realizing my mood shifting. I was waking up sad, feeling bursts of anger for seemingly arbitrary things, acting very out of character, to say the least. I didn't think much about it until that episode on Monday.
I've upped my antidepressants, am taking two different kinds currently, am watching my sugar intake, am trying to exercise more, am engaging in meditation, and am journaling again. My friend Lizzie has been really supportive and lent me this book, The Body Keeps the Score, that maybe it's impossible to not see yourself within. Or this is what I keep on telling myself, because I can't help but see myself within it. I'm realizing now that opening up about those extreme times has triggered dormant feelings that are resulting in PTSD episodes--I mean, I'm no psychiatrist, so I can't diagnose myself, but it fits the script, for sure.
Right now I'm afraid of two things: losing Edward, who has been a supportive and caring person in my life for 14 years, and losing David, who I have an instant and intense connection with, whose words make me smile, and whose voice makes me melt. I want to live inside of David’s mind. I have never felt as connected to anyone in my life. But I think I'm doing them both dirty right now. I can't connect fully. I mean, I can, sure, but what part of me and my relationship attachments is the result of these repressed feelings of guilt and shame and fear and terror? I’m recognizing codependency issues and, while not all codependency is bad, I’m not sure how to tell what is good or what is bad, and I’m not sure if codependency is a stable thing.
David and I are going to be friends, at least for right now-flirty friends instead of plan-our-future-together lovers. Like, we can't not be friends. We are too in sync. And I will be moving from New Mexico, so Edward will become a phone call, which I can do, too. But I'm going to take this time for me, for figuring out me and better understanding what I do. I signed up for new insurance and am excited to start therapy. I'm approaching this thing head on. And, like, yeah, you don't have to heal all at once, I know. But I want to and need to kick some butt in healing soon. I'm feeling energized and excited to become a better version of myself.