Things I Think About - Anatomy of my Breakdowns
I recently came across this article about PTSD, and it's been on my mind. The Circuit-breaking/Return of Feelings bits, in particular.
Many years ago a guy I was briefly seeing told me I was like the water fixture in O-Ren Ishii's back garden from Kill Bill, and he wasn't wrong. You know, the one that sits there and then periodically spills over? And yeah, it's a pretty damn good analogy for my emotions. Hold back, hold back, hold back, then floooooood.
It's something I've been working on for a very good long while, at this point. At that stage in my life, I had barely even started dealing with my PTSD, the bulk of which centered around pregnancy and babies. Not kids, mind you, but those very early stages of new life where there's little to do but wait patiently and see what happens next. Also, major abandonment issues surrounding my dad. Yadda yadda yadda.
And I've been actively working on this shit. For yeeeeeeeaaars, now. And it's boiled down to three major things.
Firstly, I spent so much time shutting down my own emotions, I had a backlog of ugly feelings that just needed to be let out and processed. For a very long time, almost any emotional reaction was an over-reaction, as years worth of anger could come out simply cause that dude in traffic pissed me off. And sometimes, I was so flooded with so many feelings, I couldn't even tell you what the real source of my reaction was.
TJ eventually described these moments as "emotional throwing food at the wall". I had a feeling, so I named every damn thing that made me feel that way. To anyone on the outside, this could easily be seen as me giving very long lists of why everything was terrible in every way. But during that process, I would name something that made me cry. And once I named the thing that made me cry, I knew that was the source. Once I had the source, I would deal with it.
And I've been working that process for years, and the various floods of emotions have receded. I name the feelings and events for what they are, do something about it, and keep going. I had hoped that this was a ripple effect. That once I got through the big waves, the reactions would keep getting smaller until eventually the pool was still and smooth.
I suppose if time were to stand still that would work, but I've come to realize there's always new ripples in the pond. That said, the waves are much smaller most of the time these days.
Secondly, and very linked to a ton of repression, I've been dealing with secrets. All the things I've been attempting to hide due to shame, and a significant amount of self-hatred. When you have a parent who lies, abandons, and in every practical way communicates that you don't matter, you tend to believe you deserve it. That this is normal and that's just what you're gonna get.
By default, I tend to believe that love and affection are other people lying to themselves or me. Especially when all I hear are words. Because of my damage, I believe what people do far more than what people say. I can get past those default beliefs, and there are many times I've chosen to believe others without the proof. But eventually, their actions are going to become more convincing than their words. My favorite people show me who they are, and that their words have meaning, by what they do.
The trouble for me is that middle part. The part where I choose to believe and not enough actions have occurred for me to know whether it's real or just more pretty words. When unsure of myself, I don't talk about things. And oh, the secrets I've buried myself under in the process.
Like when we quit Ren Fest. Sure, I made a big stink before going, 'cause I don't leave things quietly when they matter to me, but I rarely talked to anyone about why. The short, true version of that story is this:
He left because of show politics
I left with him so I wouldn't cheat on his ass
And it's not like I had an agenda on that front. I just knew that all I needed was one really good day out there, knowing he refused to set foot on the grounds, and I was gonna do something impulsive. And in the process of not talking about it, 'cause no one else did, I alienated myself from a lot of people that I actually miss a great deal. At the time I made this decision, I figured I'd eventually go back. But now that they'll be digging the place up, that doesn't seem so likely.
Last spring, I got involved in a artistic project that centered around secrets which was pretty damn therapeutic. And from there, I started working on reconnecting with people. There's something about secrets that isolates you from other people. I hate that.
Which isn't to say that dealing with those secrets is enjoyable. Sharing pictures I took of my collage pieces for the artistic project straight up led to one friend telling me I was a bad person and a bad mother. So that was fun. But the process itself led me to deal with and let go of old baggage, and most of the people I shared that stuff with didn't have a negative reaction at all, including my therapist.
The thing is, it's hard to be close to people while locking down your secrets. And the people who would reject you for those secrets typically aren't people you can be close to anyway. So what's the point? Why live that way? For me, the answer ended up being I can't live that way.
Thirdly, I've been working on Cognitive Behavior Therapy, which is an intentional rewriting of your gut impulses. My "mental illness" is based in trauma. I don't have issues dealing with reality. I have issues of repression and self-hatred. I've been medicated at times in the past, but my shit is mostly episodic, and involves reprocessing and reclaiming myself from trauma.
But in order to rewrite those impulses, I have to dig into the source, dissect the ever loving shit out of myself and my behavior, and then choose how to change that behavior. And OMG that doesn't happen fast. But it does happen.
It kinda reminds me of how I changed my cursive writing style as a girl. I decided I wanted loops in my letters vs. stems. This meant going slow, and intentionally making a loop every damn time. Then, after months of being intentional about it, the loops became the new norm and I no longer had to think about it anymore.
And that's what I've been working on since I got hit with my post-partum almost two years ago now. Identifying sources and making intentional changes.
Thing is, life won't slow down. There will always be new ripples and waves to deal with. But I have developed a method for my madness. And at the end of the day, I need to set an example for my girls. Odds are high that they too will get to deal with some of the genetic side of things. And I can't just feed them pretty words, I need to show them how to deal.
And I have learned how to be present in the moment, especially with them.
I wouldn't be able to do that without all the decades of work I've been putting into myself.
Many years ago a guy I was briefly seeing told me I was like the water fixture in O-Ren Ishii's back garden from Kill Bill, and he wasn't wrong. You know, the one that sits there and then periodically spills over? And yeah, it's a pretty damn good analogy for my emotions. Hold back, hold back, hold back, then floooooood.
It's something I've been working on for a very good long while, at this point. At that stage in my life, I had barely even started dealing with my PTSD, the bulk of which centered around pregnancy and babies. Not kids, mind you, but those very early stages of new life where there's little to do but wait patiently and see what happens next. Also, major abandonment issues surrounding my dad. Yadda yadda yadda.
And I've been actively working on this shit. For yeeeeeeeaaars, now. And it's boiled down to three major things.
Firstly, I spent so much time shutting down my own emotions, I had a backlog of ugly feelings that just needed to be let out and processed. For a very long time, almost any emotional reaction was an over-reaction, as years worth of anger could come out simply cause that dude in traffic pissed me off. And sometimes, I was so flooded with so many feelings, I couldn't even tell you what the real source of my reaction was.
TJ eventually described these moments as "emotional throwing food at the wall". I had a feeling, so I named every damn thing that made me feel that way. To anyone on the outside, this could easily be seen as me giving very long lists of why everything was terrible in every way. But during that process, I would name something that made me cry. And once I named the thing that made me cry, I knew that was the source. Once I had the source, I would deal with it.
And I've been working that process for years, and the various floods of emotions have receded. I name the feelings and events for what they are, do something about it, and keep going. I had hoped that this was a ripple effect. That once I got through the big waves, the reactions would keep getting smaller until eventually the pool was still and smooth.
I suppose if time were to stand still that would work, but I've come to realize there's always new ripples in the pond. That said, the waves are much smaller most of the time these days.
Secondly, and very linked to a ton of repression, I've been dealing with secrets. All the things I've been attempting to hide due to shame, and a significant amount of self-hatred. When you have a parent who lies, abandons, and in every practical way communicates that you don't matter, you tend to believe you deserve it. That this is normal and that's just what you're gonna get.
By default, I tend to believe that love and affection are other people lying to themselves or me. Especially when all I hear are words. Because of my damage, I believe what people do far more than what people say. I can get past those default beliefs, and there are many times I've chosen to believe others without the proof. But eventually, their actions are going to become more convincing than their words. My favorite people show me who they are, and that their words have meaning, by what they do.
The trouble for me is that middle part. The part where I choose to believe and not enough actions have occurred for me to know whether it's real or just more pretty words. When unsure of myself, I don't talk about things. And oh, the secrets I've buried myself under in the process.
Like when we quit Ren Fest. Sure, I made a big stink before going, 'cause I don't leave things quietly when they matter to me, but I rarely talked to anyone about why. The short, true version of that story is this:
He left because of show politics
I left with him so I wouldn't cheat on his ass
And it's not like I had an agenda on that front. I just knew that all I needed was one really good day out there, knowing he refused to set foot on the grounds, and I was gonna do something impulsive. And in the process of not talking about it, 'cause no one else did, I alienated myself from a lot of people that I actually miss a great deal. At the time I made this decision, I figured I'd eventually go back. But now that they'll be digging the place up, that doesn't seem so likely.
Last spring, I got involved in a artistic project that centered around secrets which was pretty damn therapeutic. And from there, I started working on reconnecting with people. There's something about secrets that isolates you from other people. I hate that.
Which isn't to say that dealing with those secrets is enjoyable. Sharing pictures I took of my collage pieces for the artistic project straight up led to one friend telling me I was a bad person and a bad mother. So that was fun. But the process itself led me to deal with and let go of old baggage, and most of the people I shared that stuff with didn't have a negative reaction at all, including my therapist.
The thing is, it's hard to be close to people while locking down your secrets. And the people who would reject you for those secrets typically aren't people you can be close to anyway. So what's the point? Why live that way? For me, the answer ended up being I can't live that way.
Thirdly, I've been working on Cognitive Behavior Therapy, which is an intentional rewriting of your gut impulses. My "mental illness" is based in trauma. I don't have issues dealing with reality. I have issues of repression and self-hatred. I've been medicated at times in the past, but my shit is mostly episodic, and involves reprocessing and reclaiming myself from trauma.
But in order to rewrite those impulses, I have to dig into the source, dissect the ever loving shit out of myself and my behavior, and then choose how to change that behavior. And OMG that doesn't happen fast. But it does happen.
It kinda reminds me of how I changed my cursive writing style as a girl. I decided I wanted loops in my letters vs. stems. This meant going slow, and intentionally making a loop every damn time. Then, after months of being intentional about it, the loops became the new norm and I no longer had to think about it anymore.
And that's what I've been working on since I got hit with my post-partum almost two years ago now. Identifying sources and making intentional changes.
Thing is, life won't slow down. There will always be new ripples and waves to deal with. But I have developed a method for my madness. And at the end of the day, I need to set an example for my girls. Odds are high that they too will get to deal with some of the genetic side of things. And I can't just feed them pretty words, I need to show them how to deal.
And I have learned how to be present in the moment, especially with them.
I wouldn't be able to do that without all the decades of work I've been putting into myself.