Isolated and pained
I feel so angry. I'm just so angry. I can't stand to be around my mother. I hate her as a mother. I've never dealt with this before, and I've always coped because I know I'd be the one to get tossed out of the family if I expressed how I feel about her. How she's traumatized me in so many ways, how being compared to her makes me want to scream because I am nothing like her. Because I am rational (even in my most emotional bouts, I know I'm being irrational), because I'm fair, because I take responsibility for myself, because I'm honest, because I am thoughtful and considerate and well-read and kind and seldom put my foot in my mouth. I'm observant and kind to my core. Because I live and would die by my morals. Because I'm fucking strong. I'm strong. It's weird to say that I'm strong when I feel so broken.
I guess that means I'm not broken.
But I'm in so much pain, and I feel like I'm not allowed to be, that I should be doing my best to minimize how much I'm affecting others, that I shouldn't be angry, that I shouldn't concentrate on it because it's "victimizing" myself. FUCK MY FAMILY. That's the first time I've ever written that, but FUCK MY FAMILY. They have shown me over the years that I count the least. That I'm supposed to adapt to their changing views of the world with my personhood, that I'm not wise enough or old enough or stable enough. My father felt I couldn't survive on my own for the longest time. They all worried about me constantly. So ironic that they "worried" about me, but when I was raped-when I was RAPED-they did NOTHING. My mother told me to stop crying an hour after i told her about the first rape; my father said nothing. My mother told me it was my fault after the second one, after I came home with a torn dress (so cliché), told me he must have been "really small" if I didn't feel him enter me, told me not to tell my father. My family told me not to tell my grandfather when Alex beat me up because they worried about him and his health.
WHAT ABOUT ME. No question mark.
My mother who told people I looked great when I weighted 110lbs and was severely anorexic; my therapist heard her at Judy's Shiva. Someone expressed concern for me, and my mother said, "yes, it's the best she's ever looked."
The worst part about my mother is that she remembers being caring, remembers being a good mother. And it kills me when she tells people what she "learned in psychology," when she was studying to be a psychologist. Fuck that shit. EVEN WORSE is that I was going through heartbreak with John and realized no one in my family has experienced heartbreak, so no wonder they all thought I was beyond nuts; my mother says (get this): I have been through heart break and felt that loss-I thought I'd lost you; you broke my heart.
I BROKE HER HEART??? What? When I tried to break off my relationship with her after Jason raped me and she said all the aforementioned things and then screamed at me several times when i was convinced he'd given me HIV? I had to wait three months in agony. I'm a hypochondriac. I was working for her, and she would sigh and tell me with 0 compassion and absolute anger and annoyance, "You DON'T have HIV. I'm TELLING you." And I'd say, "But how do you know?" and I'd cry. And then, after waiting the three-month period, I waited outside Planned Parenthood for over an hour, waiting for them to open. They couldn't take me until 10, and I was working for her at the time. I called her and told her what I was doing. I took the test and it came up negative (thank God), and then went straight back to the office where she was so angry with me. I wanted someone to be happy with me. Instead, we got into a huge fight because she "knew" I didn't have HIV, and that I'd been silly and then had let it get in the way of my life. I walked out on her and quit. She tells me a million times that I walked out on her. I can't say anything. Even writing that, I feel nauseous, so filled with anger.
And I feel so alone. Since therapy last Wednesday, I've been experiencing so many flashbacks of Sasan, Jason, and Dave, and so much hatred toward my mother. The worst part is I can't get away from her because Josh and Robin are in town, so I just look so mean toward her while she's bright and happy and in her "I love my family soooooooooo much" mood, and she keeps coming over and touching me: If I have to sit beside her, she rubs me on the knee; if I'm sitting, she'll come over and rub my back. It makes my skin crawl. I can't take it.
And I had this dream last week that's been playing over and over in my head. I think I finally figured it out, at least partially: I'm having sex with this guy, and I'm disgusting because I'm covered in his sperm. I realize it's John, but I'm afraid he doesn't love me anymore, so I keep complimenting him. There's more to it, but that's the gist. I've realized that the whole being covered in sperm thing is from Sasan-he came on me when he raped me, because I told him I felt that was the most disrespectful thing you could ever do to a woman; I think that means I feel John used me, violated me, that all these things are connected, as my therapist told me they are-90% of my life is affected by all of this.
I honestly don't know what I'm doing in therapy that's opening all of this up. I know somatic therapy is supposed to be powerful, but I don't know what we did to trigger all this. But I just want to cry all the time.
And I'm afraid of going to Josh because (it's the same thing over and over again) I feel I'm always drama. I feel drama is me in his eyes, and i don't feel that's only projection-this comes from years of having been told I "victimize" myself when shit happens to me. My mother does that, not me. Things ACTUALLY happen to me-my mother's habit is to just never take responsibility for anything and always see herself as passive, having bad things done to her. Because I've tried to dissociate myself from this, I've done a fine job hiding drama from most of my friends, especially those who haven't known me for long, and have accepted it when friends don't want to hear or acknowledge what's happened to me. I've been invalidated by more people than validated, and the invalidation always seems to count the most, anyway.
I feel so stuck, so alone, and so afraid of being seen as an angry person. And then, I have the urge to tell Robin what's going on with me and why I'm so angry, and I'm terrified she'll think I'm making the whole thing up (because who could have been beat up by her roommate and raped by three different people in a 6-month period...and if it happened, who could be stupid enough to put herself in those situations. For the longest time, I was told that it was my choice which situations I put myself in, and that I attracted these types of people to myself-all victim blaming, all so unfair.) That's me being scared of expressing my own emotions, feeling that I don't have a right to them. For instance, about an hour ago, I wrote this to Josh:
Hey Joshi, I'm hoping I can talk to you some time soon, just to let you know what's going on with me. I'm not asking for support, but I don't want you and robin to think I've just turned into an angry person or something.
Rereading that, that's insane. He's my brother. If I were another person who knew me, I'd know something were going on with me. I'd care; I'd ask. I'd put everything together. I often do this.
And I don't know what to do with this anger. It feels urgent that I get back to therapy. It's like I went in for surgery, and before they closed me up, they assembled my bones wrong; I don't work correctly right now, and I need my therapist to set me right so I can go back to living my life.
I'm stuck in no-man's land right now, and it's crazy. I've actually been thinking about just cutting off my family entirely because I feel they'll never understand, and I can't take their not understanding anymore. It's too painful, and now that I'm an adult, I feel the need to protect myself from people who minimize my pain and experiences. No one should ever be invalidated and minimized and denigrated and censored and blamed for the things that I went through, especially the number of times I went through it.
I just feel on the verge of rage and desperation constantly now.
I guess that means I'm not broken.
But I'm in so much pain, and I feel like I'm not allowed to be, that I should be doing my best to minimize how much I'm affecting others, that I shouldn't be angry, that I shouldn't concentrate on it because it's "victimizing" myself. FUCK MY FAMILY. That's the first time I've ever written that, but FUCK MY FAMILY. They have shown me over the years that I count the least. That I'm supposed to adapt to their changing views of the world with my personhood, that I'm not wise enough or old enough or stable enough. My father felt I couldn't survive on my own for the longest time. They all worried about me constantly. So ironic that they "worried" about me, but when I was raped-when I was RAPED-they did NOTHING. My mother told me to stop crying an hour after i told her about the first rape; my father said nothing. My mother told me it was my fault after the second one, after I came home with a torn dress (so cliché), told me he must have been "really small" if I didn't feel him enter me, told me not to tell my father. My family told me not to tell my grandfather when Alex beat me up because they worried about him and his health.
WHAT ABOUT ME. No question mark.
My mother who told people I looked great when I weighted 110lbs and was severely anorexic; my therapist heard her at Judy's Shiva. Someone expressed concern for me, and my mother said, "yes, it's the best she's ever looked."
The worst part about my mother is that she remembers being caring, remembers being a good mother. And it kills me when she tells people what she "learned in psychology," when she was studying to be a psychologist. Fuck that shit. EVEN WORSE is that I was going through heartbreak with John and realized no one in my family has experienced heartbreak, so no wonder they all thought I was beyond nuts; my mother says (get this): I have been through heart break and felt that loss-I thought I'd lost you; you broke my heart.
I BROKE HER HEART??? What? When I tried to break off my relationship with her after Jason raped me and she said all the aforementioned things and then screamed at me several times when i was convinced he'd given me HIV? I had to wait three months in agony. I'm a hypochondriac. I was working for her, and she would sigh and tell me with 0 compassion and absolute anger and annoyance, "You DON'T have HIV. I'm TELLING you." And I'd say, "But how do you know?" and I'd cry. And then, after waiting the three-month period, I waited outside Planned Parenthood for over an hour, waiting for them to open. They couldn't take me until 10, and I was working for her at the time. I called her and told her what I was doing. I took the test and it came up negative (thank God), and then went straight back to the office where she was so angry with me. I wanted someone to be happy with me. Instead, we got into a huge fight because she "knew" I didn't have HIV, and that I'd been silly and then had let it get in the way of my life. I walked out on her and quit. She tells me a million times that I walked out on her. I can't say anything. Even writing that, I feel nauseous, so filled with anger.
And I feel so alone. Since therapy last Wednesday, I've been experiencing so many flashbacks of Sasan, Jason, and Dave, and so much hatred toward my mother. The worst part is I can't get away from her because Josh and Robin are in town, so I just look so mean toward her while she's bright and happy and in her "I love my family soooooooooo much" mood, and she keeps coming over and touching me: If I have to sit beside her, she rubs me on the knee; if I'm sitting, she'll come over and rub my back. It makes my skin crawl. I can't take it.
And I had this dream last week that's been playing over and over in my head. I think I finally figured it out, at least partially: I'm having sex with this guy, and I'm disgusting because I'm covered in his sperm. I realize it's John, but I'm afraid he doesn't love me anymore, so I keep complimenting him. There's more to it, but that's the gist. I've realized that the whole being covered in sperm thing is from Sasan-he came on me when he raped me, because I told him I felt that was the most disrespectful thing you could ever do to a woman; I think that means I feel John used me, violated me, that all these things are connected, as my therapist told me they are-90% of my life is affected by all of this.
I honestly don't know what I'm doing in therapy that's opening all of this up. I know somatic therapy is supposed to be powerful, but I don't know what we did to trigger all this. But I just want to cry all the time.
And I'm afraid of going to Josh because (it's the same thing over and over again) I feel I'm always drama. I feel drama is me in his eyes, and i don't feel that's only projection-this comes from years of having been told I "victimize" myself when shit happens to me. My mother does that, not me. Things ACTUALLY happen to me-my mother's habit is to just never take responsibility for anything and always see herself as passive, having bad things done to her. Because I've tried to dissociate myself from this, I've done a fine job hiding drama from most of my friends, especially those who haven't known me for long, and have accepted it when friends don't want to hear or acknowledge what's happened to me. I've been invalidated by more people than validated, and the invalidation always seems to count the most, anyway.
I feel so stuck, so alone, and so afraid of being seen as an angry person. And then, I have the urge to tell Robin what's going on with me and why I'm so angry, and I'm terrified she'll think I'm making the whole thing up (because who could have been beat up by her roommate and raped by three different people in a 6-month period...and if it happened, who could be stupid enough to put herself in those situations. For the longest time, I was told that it was my choice which situations I put myself in, and that I attracted these types of people to myself-all victim blaming, all so unfair.) That's me being scared of expressing my own emotions, feeling that I don't have a right to them. For instance, about an hour ago, I wrote this to Josh:
Hey Joshi, I'm hoping I can talk to you some time soon, just to let you know what's going on with me. I'm not asking for support, but I don't want you and robin to think I've just turned into an angry person or something.
Rereading that, that's insane. He's my brother. If I were another person who knew me, I'd know something were going on with me. I'd care; I'd ask. I'd put everything together. I often do this.
And I don't know what to do with this anger. It feels urgent that I get back to therapy. It's like I went in for surgery, and before they closed me up, they assembled my bones wrong; I don't work correctly right now, and I need my therapist to set me right so I can go back to living my life.
I'm stuck in no-man's land right now, and it's crazy. I've actually been thinking about just cutting off my family entirely because I feel they'll never understand, and I can't take their not understanding anymore. It's too painful, and now that I'm an adult, I feel the need to protect myself from people who minimize my pain and experiences. No one should ever be invalidated and minimized and denigrated and censored and blamed for the things that I went through, especially the number of times I went through it.
I just feel on the verge of rage and desperation constantly now.