Pandora's Aquarium: All over the place - Pandora's Aquarium

There is so much in my head right now, I am overwhelmed by everything that is hitting me at the moment. And yet, somehow thinking of something to type is difficult. What is in my head will not form into words, I am struggling with verbalizing it. I think my tendency is to become overly analytical, analyzing myself in a clinical and professional way, using my training to help understand my psyche, but from a distance, detached and dissociated. Rarely do I find myself experiencing myself, my life exists as if I am watching a movie, I find myself outside my body, just watching the world around me.

My therapist suggested the other day I take a break...I let it sit for awhile. She is going away and we have a week and a half between sessions, so what a lovely opportunity to "avoid." I wish it were that easy. I don't feel like it is even possible. It is always with me, every moment of every day, On some level it is there. I cant push it away or pretend it does not exist or keep myself busy. I am overworked and overtired as is, and it does not help take it away. If anything it completely paralyzes me from doing what it is I need to be doing.

The body memories the hardest to push away. It is hard to take a break when it feels like it is still happening, when I experience it in my body I feel disgusting, I feel disgusted, I feel haunted. It is terrifying and feels like it will never stop, it will never end, I cannot even imagine not feeling this way. I want to curl up into a little ball and make it go away, I want to cut it out of me like I used to, I want to starve myself like I used to. But I can't do any of those things any longer, instead I feel it, I remember it.

I have done some work, both in art, and with my therapist, about infancy, about being in the NICU, and my parents. It is odd, I used to come at it from the angle of what was wrong with me, what did I do wrong, why was I so bad? But I realized none of those things are true, it wasn't my fault, I did not cause it, I did not make it happen. I was made to feel that way by my parents, my father rejected me, and my mother is incapable of being there for me emotionally, of meeting my needs. She didn't then, and she doesn't now. The feeling is that they never really loved me, I used to think I was simply unlovable, of course they did not love me there was nothing to love just me this horrible terrible person who deserved to be hated and rejected and ridiculed and raped.

But I don't believe that anymore. I know that is a false belief, that was reinforced by them and by others for years. So what it leads me to, is that something was wrong with them. I am not the problem. And it is further confusing by the places where they were good parents, where they supported me and advocated for me etc. But I am realizing in sitting in that tension, that no matter what they did that was good, it does not take away what was bad. What was pretty horrible. What was even maybe possibly emotionally abusive?

I am struggling not to hate my body. I am struggling with realizing everything it has been through, and how those things are not my fault and how I am not disgusting and should not be ashamed of it. There is part of me that believes I need to stay separate from my body, that if I could just get a new one I would be fine. Its all in there.

It is strange what I can still feel in my body, even from the NICU. I can feel needles in my arms. I can feel pain of my diaper being changed. I can feel cold and alone, in a world where I was helpless and needy and my needs were not being met. Where my reality was simply medical procedures, which I could not possibly understand, or know what was happening. My world was cold and painful. In many ways, it still is.

It takes away so much, darkens any joy I have in my life, I cannot really be because of what haunts me and follows me everywhere. I am haunted by memories and feelings and pain and ridicule, and it won't leave me.

Now as I write this I feel horribly guilty. For saying all these things. I feel like saying it isn't so bad, my adult life is good, where I am in this moment is good. So I feel guilty, like this is some kind of poor me pity party and I dont want that. I don't want to be whining about how horrible my childhood was and that is what I feel like I am doing.

I tried to convince my therapist I did not have a bad childhood, I even told her it was pretty good. She just gave me a look, she gives this look sometimes, a look that says "really?" She didn't believe me. She said no I actually had a pretty horrible childhood. But others had it worse, I tell her, others had worse things happen to them. But apparently that does not matter, mine was still bad

I am just tired of the supposed reality of my horrible childhood getting in the way of potentially having a fairly decent adulthood.