Messages

Greetings! I know that a lot of you (most? All?) can relate to chronic fatigue. I've been exhausted my entire life and wish I knew what it is like to have sustained energy. I fight the guilt and shame of my "laziness" every single day.

I was diagnosed with breast cancer this past October and have since had a couple of surgeries and just finished a round of radiation treatment. I have been spared chemo, thankfully. I can't imagine how it would be if I had to deal with that as well. As it is, I'm just so tired. I finished radiation two weeks ago. I went on a short hike yesterday, barely a mile, and I'm useless today, nothing but sleeping.

I read about so many women who continue to exercise through chemo, go right back to work, etc., and I swear the guilt makes me feel even more tired. I know better than to compare myself to normies, but it's not like I have a choice. The shame of my laziness is deeply rooted in me. Sometimes I try to imagine what a life free from the stress of constantly and continuously measuring my shortcomings, of the guilt and shame of being such a weak, pathetic being. I think about being lighthearted and having the energy to get through a day without collapsing and I don't think I'll ever get there.

And all this is happening in my own brain. I'm completely no contact with my FOO. My husband supports me 100% and even my coworkers encourage me to rest more. I want to tear out this guilt and shame by the roots. Goals, I guess, goals. 

Well done, Healing Finally! It seems like it should be a simple enough realization, but it's such a freakin' hard place to get to!  Realizing that my mom said and did things like that for the express purpose of hurting me was a tough one for me. But your experience is so familiar to me.

I think turning your back on that identity they created for you is so powerful. Once you walk away there is nothing they can do to you. They'll try, for sure, but you rock that grey rock!

Bach, that does sound awful! And I expect you'll not be able to read or write here for a while, either. But know that we're thinking of you and eagerly awaiting your return!

I feel like my memories are about in line with all of yours, which helps me feel reassured. I guess I don't actually care what we "should" remember, or more like, as you say, Blueberry, what I might remember if I had no reason to repress anything. I was quite seriously ill for a year when I was 7 years old, and my entire life is divided at that point. I remember almost nothing before that, and a little more after. But everything changed, for a lot of reasons. They were the sort of things that an actual functioning mother would help a child with, which obviously did not happen.

What does surprise me, no idea why it does because it makes sense, is the general repulsion we all have to our mothers' touch. Mine has a lot to do with her boundary stomping and general attitude that I was more of an object than a person, along with the gaslighting, etc. She is the hardest, coldest person I've ever met. All sharp angles, no softness whatsoever. For someone who appeared to despise me, she certainly wanted total control over me.  And she invaded every aspect of my life until I finally realized that I have agency and could walk away from it.

I appreciate all of these responses so much. I am ok with not remembering much. Sometimes I feel a little scared that a repressed memory will emerge and devastate me, but I honestly think that's my anxiety looking for something to latch onto. I've been know to worry about really unlikely problems during times that I'm doing well. I joke that I'm "running low on things to worry about." I know it's not a joke, but it helps me calm down.

Thank you all for your wonderful perspectives and really, really interesting observations. 

Oh my gosh, these responses!! I've been away for a couple of days, I'll respond this weekend. So much to think about. Thank you, All! More soon.

I started this journey sure that I had no repressed memories. I still don't think I really do. But one the other hand, I don't actually remember much of my childhood, which seems like that might be a red flag? I asked my therapist about it and she told me that I *should* remember my childhood. She asked me, who was your fourth grade teacher? Ok, I have no idea. But I kind of remember other grades. In third grade there was nice lay teacher (Catholic school), but I don't recall her name. I have vague recollection of the nuns in 1st and 2nd. 5th and 7th, I don't know. 6th and 8th, i think I do recall the nuns that taught those grades. So, yeah, red flags indeed.

Do you all remember who your teachers were?

Lately there has been this image flitting around in my brain. My mother grabbing me by the shoulders and pushing me between her and something/someone that was coming at her. I think it might have involved alcohol and might have been all in fun. I was, maybe, 9 or 10,maybe younger or maybe older. I recall something like being startled and confused. For one, she was touching me. Her touch repulses me, but I don't know when that started, or why really. I have no memories of her touching me in a kind or caring way. On a rare occasion I got slapped for being mouthy, but that was about it.

I don't know where I'm going with this. I've been comfortable with not remembering much of my childhood for so long, and it makes me nervous to have these little flashes of remembering. It's not like I'm suddenly remembering something that happened as much as I remember *remembering* something. Something I used to think about when I was younger. Something I'd rather not revisit.

Is this part of healing? We don't really have to remember things...do we? Do I really have to think about why my mother would reflexively put me between her and something dangerous, or even something pretending to be dangerous? Why am suddenly thinking about this, and why do I even care? Rhetorical questions, of course. It's been a long winter for me.

Hi Pianoplant, and welcome. You're not alone here. I feel your sadness and grief, and share with you wondering how much trauma contributed to my multiple strange diagnoses (multiple tumors all over, pulmonary neuroendocrine cancer most recently). It's tough. But you can know this -- you're among friends here. Glad you're here. 

Hi Kizzie, hope you are feeling well and peaceful. May I be added to the private journal group? Thx.

Bermuda, you know you don't have to apologize to us, right? Struggling to be present is what we all do to some degree or other. We don't have to explain; we get it.

You are delightful wherever you are beaming in from!

I am particularly fond of Moonrise Kingdom, where I feel like they finally got the weird kids right. But the movie that has most resonated with me is an old Betty Davis one called "Now, Voyager." OMG. I could talk about it for hours.

I cannot handle any kind of war movie. Partly because of the victims, and part because they are so loud.

It's wonderfully wonderful! (Kind of wondering what that store sells, exactly, though)

Oh, Phoebes, I so hate it when that happens. I try to remember that everything other people say is 99% about them, not me. Rinse, repeat as necessary.

Oh. My. Dog., Bermuda, your life and your stories are so important to me. I find myself thinking that I don't deserve to be here, because I never went through such things. Except maybe for that time...then a door slams such in my brain. So I don't know.

But I do get is the need to do things, to get things done, simply because they need to be done, and the astonishment that anyone else thinks it's something to praise. It's not that you are looking for a hard way to do things, it's that it's a thing that needs done. Them pumpkins ain't going to carry themselves. It's just work. It's easy compared to emotional desperation and despair. It's nothing compared to forced isolation and abandonment, or a child waiting so long for *someone* to please come help and that help never comes. It's just work. It's easy.

You are a treasure.

Yeah, I think Armee's right. It sounds like that part of the healing that hurts more than the thing itself, but only for a while. Because healing, by definition, gets better.

{hugs} to you, Bach.

This is a new realization for me. I adore everything about this day, except for the jump-scare. When he was little, and maybe even still, my son loved going to haunted houses. The scarier, the better, especially when a zombie or whatever would jump out of nowhere to scare us. OMG, I thought I was going to die every time that happened. I would jump three feet in the air and scream. And I mean full-throated scream. I hated it! But he loved it and I'll never understand it.

That shock to my nervous system was just so freakin' painful, it hurts just remembering. He also loves scary amusement park rides, which I also find painfully awful.

I'm glad to know why I'm this way now, but it doesn't seem to alleviate the stress.

At least there's candy.