Through the looking glass....(Triggery so proceed with caution)
The only problem is that my dark passengers are so many(I think?) that there is no room for me to drive. Which describes my life perfectly.
I was so afraid of being abandoned/rejected that after years of taunting and abuse that I treated each conversation with people as an interview to stay in their lives. I gave so very much, leaving nothing for myself. I took on the characteristics that my church deemed as "good", and emulated it. I wanted to go to heaven, but even more than that I wanted someone to think I was worthy of love and attention.
I tried so hard that I went past the realm of people pleaser to the unknown place of the martyr. I sacrified myself, who I was(or thought I was) on the combined altars of fear and faith, effectively removing who I was or was supposed to be.
S, my therapist tells me that I take too much of what happened to me on myself, and he's so right. But it's hard NOT to when you found justification in your upbringing to act as I did.
I try to pinpoint the moment which caused me to become so inward turned, and I think it was when I was about six or so.
I felt so very different, and didn't know why. I was overweight, affectionate, and creative.The kids made fun of me A LOT. I tell myself that is what childhood was like, but something tugs at me saying that No six year old should EVER get the idea that no one likes them and that they should spend their life trying to become "special" so that everyone would love them and not treat them like dirt.
Even before the sexual abuse, it was as if I was being primed to become another broken child. My step-grandfather was abusive towards my madea(my caretaker) and sometimes lashed out at me. But I thought that was normal. I just assumed they were my parents.
(They were not)
About this time, I found out who my real mother was(and real father). My mom was a hard person at this time, saying she wished that she never had me. It still haunts me even though she's grown up a bit.
My father began this "push me/pull you" relationship with me where he would accept/reject me at his whim. To state him as capricious would be an understatement. I just wanted his love and validation. Saying that now makes me see myself as even a worse person than he. According to my mother, I shouldn't long for these things because he's a jerk. But I still do.
Before I hit seven, I didn't pay mind to what genitalia I had. But my assailant changed that. He made it my only focus to the point I feared that if I did not keep my mind on it that it would either fall off or I'd be an abuser just like him.
By age 11, I was convinced that in my town knew that I was damaged goods. I had very few friends, and did not know how to respond to guys. I thought if I threw myself at them that they would love me. Not so.I became so desperate for someone to love me and never leave me that I was convincing myself that I will need to put any person in my life through a battery of tests so I wouldn't be lonely. Which made me only more lonely.
Throw in a favorite uncle groping me and commanding me to take a bath so he can have sex with me with a touch of "What the heck is going on with my body" and "boys like boobs, maybe I should tease them..." and you have a little girl who appears boy crazy.
I tried so so so hard, only to fail.
My first attempt was a little bit before Christmas during this time. Someone walked in before I could actually cause damage to myself. Which is a good thing now that I think about it.
It was also the time that I started to stuff down the pain and hurt inside of me. It would come out at the worst times. I lost lots of friends that way. Which fed into the belief that I should no longer be here.
Thinking about it now, I feel like I should yell at myself and tell me to grow up. That I shouldn't sit here and admit that I think I have a personality that is as deep as a kiddy pool with no water. That feeling bad for myself just feeds this bad behavior.
I've actually been told that actually. And I believed it.
I took everything they said(or I thought they said) about me and lived my life according to their dictates. And their belief was that I was NOT a person.
I took all that loathing for other people and turned it in on myself. I came to the thought at 11 years old that maybe I was the problem.
I'm almost 30 and I still have that thought process. My mother gets angry with me because I literally sit there and say "this happened, and I admit the spiritual abuse happened because I wanted someone to love me".
I know it disgusts her, but honestly...what does she expect? You treat someone like they won't become anything special..leave them with people that abuse and demean them..then laugh at them while they cry...
You get me, who is afraid of losing control. Everything has to be perfect. If it isn't perfect, then I just won't bother. I get afraid of losing control over my emotions and becoming that woman who clings to everything in those lifetime movies. You get a woman who doesn't know what she wants at ALL and who tries to smother(haha like a chicken) any streaks of rebellion or leadership within her.
You get a woman like me who really really really need lots of hugs and the ability to talk out this stuff more than once a month in a therapist's office.
But I see the glimmer of HER, the me that's hiding under all the junk. She's luminous. I want to befriend her. I've been trying my best to clear the path for her, but it's so much rubble.
I get tired easier, I notice that I try to hide from men now. But she's like a peacock and so bright and vibrant....she won't let me sink back into the background. Well, she does actually from time to time, because she's weak, scarred, and bruised. I don't know how to make it better. I usually know how..But I'm clueless.
I'm so scared of this journey. Every time I try to start on the path to healing, things go wonky. Like large boulders being hurled by angry giants, it is usually dangerous crap too.
I want my mom, I want some deity, or my stepdad to tell me what the heck to do. I follow orders well(if I take my ADD meds, ha!).
I know I am not alone because there are people on here, but..I just feel..different.
I wish I was a robot