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I haven't been here for quite a while, so weird that I logged in today.  (Hi, Everyone!)

There was a bit of physical abuse from both parents and older sisters, but that seems minor to me.  The emotional abuse from my Mom is the hardest.

I still don't know WHAT I'd call it from my Mom, though...  therapists have called it CSA... certainly if the genders were reversed I would call it that.  There were MANY graphic and detailed threats from my Mom how she was going to rape or kill me, not daily, but several times a week.  There was direct SA from my older sisters which I've always remembered graphically (that occurred age 4-5).  And both friends and therapists have helped me able to actually say a lot of my adult sexual experiences were sexual assaults.  It's hard to even state that most places without being attacked.

I don't get the attitude from abused people much, but from the larger world, it's like I'm not ALLOWED to even recognise it as assault/abuse, since the moment I bring it up, I get the standard abuse minimization and invalidation, as well as arguments that "women have it worse", or worse, I'm lying and a misogynist.  There's pressure to see it as me "being lucky", but rarely to "hide it to be a man", though.  In my case at least, I don't think I've EVER experienced the second attitude expressed.

I feel very alone with it all, as well.  I still have a hard time even making any sense of this, since I find the culture at large is invalidating, ridiculing, and actively argue against the reality of what I went through.

I tried to get help for this 25 years ago, and was laughed at, yelled at, told I was lying.  It wasn't until a couple of years ago I found a therapist who would listen.

I remember what happened, so I don't have those doubts, but my Mom was a radical second-wave feminist, and that was always used as the justification for why I deserved it and it was my fault.  It messes with my head.

It happens next week.  I am feeling somewhat ambivalent.  But, I've been busy everyday doing yoga, and going to the gym and prepping for this years kayak trip...  I haven't been checking things out online much.

Thanks for asking Three Roses.  Hope everyone is managing okay.

Meursault

I gave my therapist the go ahead to schedule a session with the new guy.  She told me she won't charge me for her time, which I feel kind of guilty about, since she does so much for me.  She said it will sort of be like she and I interviewing him, and him interviewing her and I.  She is so careful with me, and was very reassuring me it will be SHE AND I, not me alone.  So I guess I'll give a guy therapist a try.  That wont happen for another week, though.

Meursault

Hi everyone....  I'm going to put up a couple of my poems.  The first one was written in the psych ward, four years after my Dad's death, when I first was finally able to mentally take a breath.  I'm a huge mythology geek, so most of the references would be lost on most people likely, but it all actually makes sense, even if it's inaccessible!  I actually made an annotation explaining the first one, and it took 12 pages.  I wrote the second one tonight, and they kind of work as book ends, I think....

Anyways:

Comes the Dawn – On the Death of My Father

I.
Comes the early-born, rosy-fingered dawn
Across a Zeus-fallen, mud-wet road.
Fortune wavering in sorrowed age,
Thumbing a ride bright-eyed
From drink to field.

Comes the early-born, rosy-fingered dawn
In grief and loss and Chthonic terror.
Comes a corpse-sodden son.
Comes the fattening field and drought-
Drenched mind in wine-watered loss.

Comes the early-born, rosy-fingered dawn
And shadows groping
From Eumenides long-balanced memory.

Comes the loom de-threaded.
Comes the father-slayer broken.
Comes Tisiphone in scouring dread,
Casting evil panic upon trusty hope.

Comes the scudding drift.
Comes the split-tongued sorceress's
Bewitching delicate chains;
Glaze-eyed swine queen with blackened
Heart.

Comes Poseidon's lumbering fool.
Comes the wine-black sun.
Comes the early-born, rosy-fingered dawn
Rending its Fury'd talon across forever.

II.
Comes the blackened, chaff-sparked night.
Father-burdened, Nyx-entombed,
Naiad-coupled.
Here climbs a Sisyphean boulder
To water's top-rippled edge
And tumbles again drowning.
Comes the dead and comes the dying.

Comes the blackened, chaff-sparked night.
Comes a lament from father-drowned.
And a father, Charon-bribed
Milling a son in wine-black terror.

Comes a son, father-ground.
And here there is a mill-wheel shattered.
Here a grist-shovelling soldier sneers
And baker kneading for Eumenidean feast.
Here the burning ovens.
Here the crackled loaf.
Here the dough encrusted.
Comes the blackened, chaff-sparked night.
Comes the early-born, rosy-fingered dawn.



Armistice Day - A Remembrance

How can I explain the terror,
Or the pounding that shook the world,
The disorientation
The smallness of me?
I can only say
"The War!  The War!"

I can't describe the numbing, the brokenness
Huddled in my trench
Awaiting the barrage of artillery
Creeping across the blasted emptiness
That separated the enemy and I,
I can only cry:
"The War!  The War!"

I can't make sense of the propaganda
In suspicious tone and accent
Blaring out across the plain
Ransacking my certainty
And filling me with doubt of my rightness
In my cause
And wondering at my own sanity
As I simply whisper:
"The War!  The War!"

I can't bear the loss
Of all my comrades
Who fell beside me
In the trench, or
Defected or
Were granted leave or
Sent to another posting,
As I cowered in the familiar muck,
Driven mad by the rats and fleas
In doubt and shame
The starvation of loneliness
The vacuum of touch
And the Cholera of despair
A seemingly endless sentry duty in
"The War!  The War!"

I dread the shame of reporting
The failures after failures
Of my tactics and campaigns,
As I lost ground,
Fled, broke, or lashed out at some
Phantom enemy position,
Going over the top, wildly
Desperately dashing
Vulnerable across open land
Toward strength and entrenchment
Looking the fool for my incompetence
In battle in
"The War!  The War!"

I can't bear the anguish, as
I see the faces of those who stayed behind and
Made lives and loves and grew into this world.
Who found connection and meaning and joy and peace
while I lost so many years in an arena which
Taught me to speak a language they do not understand,
Far away in
"The War!  The War!"

So I talk of tyrants and butchers,
Majors, Generals, and combat assaults,
Creeping barrages, Enfilades,
Triage, misery of cold and
Imminent death and disfigurement.
The devastation of divisions lost, routs,
Disease, discomfort, and powerlessness,
Scars, madness, and amputations,
Annihilation of squads, platoons, companies
Battalions,
A terror so powerful every cell exploded
In a different direction
With each falling shell,
As they speak of the same time --
Of the same place --
In a different language, and
With different emotion and call it
"Family, childhood, playing, growing, learning,
School, first dates, jobs, houses, lovers, children, and
Optimism of the future, while I can only
Mutter dumbly:
"The War!  The War!"

And now comes the dawn,
Comes the early-born, rosy-fingered dawn,
And now a strange silence,
The last echoes of
Bombs fading in the
Crisp new morning
Bouncing a diminishing
Repetition around me
"It's Over!  It's Over!
The War!  The War!"

http://jezebel.com/a-toast-to-all-the-brave-kids-who-broke-up-with-their-t-1702954639?utm_medium=sharefromsite&utm_source=Jezebel_facebook

Good point about the tri-pod of relationships.  The only other therapist I really connected with was a guy actually, but it was a limited number of sessions allowed.  When I was seeing him, I "dumped" my best friend and his wife, who was really best friend #2.  I was the best man at their wedding and stuff like that too.  They had been married over a decade, and were in the process of trying to conceive.  Three weeks after I removed myself from the dynamic, she filed for divorce.  Meanwhile the last time I talked to her she was talking about how they might need a fertility expert because they were having a hard time conceiving. 

I mentioned it to that therapist, and he pointed out how stable relationships are usually tripods.  Once I was gone, they had to directly address each other without balancing off of me.  He mentioned that the third party doesn't always have to be a person, but can be a shared interest, a pet, anything really.  In a way, in therapy, I think my "Inner Child" has been functioning as that for my therapist and I.

Part of me is really scared about what my therapist will say about me.  I guess I'm worried about hearing some negative assessment from her.  Still, I guess I should hear it if she does.  She knows me better than anybody.

She reassured me that she is not trying to get rid of me, and said she hopes we work together for a long time yet, if I feel I need it.  She told me she can just see how much I'm hurting and how urgently I feel this need for connection and affection and thinks adding another aspect to my healing might help speed things up and also provide something she is unable to provide.

When she got one of the "Share" pieces when we played Jenga, she told me that she is sometimes worried she is not good enough at her job to give me the help I need.  It was kind of humanizing for her to tell me that, and sort of allows me to see her as more of an equal, rather than some idealized goddess on a pedestal!

Anyways....

Oops, I almost forgot.  I think I understand some of the anger i have towards males.  Partially because of my Dad, I think.  How he never helped me with my Mom.  He openly said he was glad I was around because then my Mom "took it out" on me instead of him.  Then I think any time I hear something positive come out a guys mouth, there is just this spiteful anger that rises up, and the thought goes through my head:  "Easy for you to say!  Women want you!  Now #@$@#!$ off."

Still, I think I'll have to go there eventually.  My therapist is exceptionally good looking, and I thought that would be a deal breaker, but it turns out it's the opposite, so I can easily be wrong on this.  Like Three Roses, I think there is a lot that needs to heal with someone like that.

Really, I think the best dynamic for me is a female therapist of roughly my age or slightly younger.  Older women carry a lot of issues especially with the skewed power dynamic of therapy.  Older male therapists can be okay, but there is a lot of hostility from me there, plus the way men think is usually not a good fit.  I hate being told how to "fix" me.  Younger males are sort of sexual competitors, and I hate them.  Plus it kills my self esteem when I see their various failings as well, and how they are happy and have a life and women want them, and yet my whole life has been stolen, despite having as much in me that is worth it as they have.  It demoralizes me badly.  That is likely the worst dynamic of all...

Meursault

I agree with you, anything that shames or bullies someone into being someone they are not is abusive.  Moreso with children, even, IMO.

With the EMDR therapist I saw, I brought in a bunch of pictures at different ages, and all of that stuff was very evident to her too.  SHe commented on them all and showed compassion to the different mes.   I looked just "blank and stunned" in them, and she pointed out that I didn't in the pictures as a baby, but around three to four it showed up.  Looking at the pictures of me, yeah, I know what you mean.  The difference between me and other kids is so stark!  How did nobody notice it?  T pointed out that my older sister had the same look.

It was actually a good thing.  You don't have to get into it with your T at that age, but maybe she will have a reaction that will make you feel safer and more willing to get into it.  And maybe that's a step you can actually take towards dealing with that period that is in your control to address.

Meursault

Occasionally I think I've found a way to deal with this.  For a while it was working pretty well, but not as much at the moment.  BAsically, I am sometimes able to maintain "Executive control" and not let the IC take charge of what I do, while still hearing him.  I pretend I'm the father, bold-facing through it all, and holding the IC in my arms, as they thrash around wildly and try to twist free, but I'm holding him for his own good, like a good Dad would.  Sort of if I was holding an autistic kid who was throwing a tantrum in my arms, and I have to hold him to keep him from running into traffic.

Might not help, and it certainly doesn't always for me, but the short version:  you still listen to the IC, just don't let them take charge.

Meursault

That's a super weird doll.  She's awesome.

I am enrolled in the yoga teacher training!  Woohoo!!!

I haven't worked in a couple of years, and out of the blue, the owner of a business that was next to the place I was working in 2013 called me up on Monday.  He had tracked down my number.  HE called to offer me a job.    I feel pretty good about that, how he recognized my work ethic and all that jazz, and put in that much effort to try to hire me.

The woman I dated for a couple of months over the winter, whom I told I wasn't ready for sex yet, and who had been a friend for almost 25 years, sent me a letter in the mail.  It was six pages, and she was apologizing about how she treated me.  Makes me feel okay about that too.  I was just wondering what was so wrong with me.  She certainly behaved quite a bit different as a friend compared to a girlfriend.  She let me know that she has been feeling guilty about how she treated me and hopes I can forgive her and whatnot.  I texted her that I got the letter, and yeah, I've assumed we would be friends again at some point, but I'm not ready yet.

Therapy today was awesome.  I mentioned in the Inner Child category about playing Jenga.  There was a lot that happened, and we had 45 minutes of really good open ctalking and me being vulnerable before the Jenga came out.

She told me of the colleague she talked to that she wanted to enlist as another therapist for me.  He has a narrative approach, and she said that they figure, if I'm willing to do it, that the way to proceed would be for the three of us to sit down and talk about me.  Having my therapist say what is going on with me etc, and us answering his questions.  Sort of him interviewing us, and we interviewing him, all talking about this deeply painful and traumatic stuff from my life.  Hearing my therapist describe ME to a stranger in front of me.  Yikes.

Scares the bejeezus out of me, so I said I need to think about it.  I'm pretty sure I'll do it.  I trust that she doesn't want to hurt me, but it is still very scary!  I utterly hate the idea of a male therapist.  For some reason, I get really angry and defensive thinking about seeing a male therapist.  So I'm a little uncertain about that as well.  My therapist worked with him at some place for a few years, though, so I guess I can trust her assessment.

Anybody else ever do something like that?  I think I'll feel very exposed, and very much like a broken and severely damaged scientific curiosity when it happens.  Two therapists talking about me, in front of me!  I feel shaky just thinking about it!

For the wilderness trip, it will be 40ish days rather than 70ish, so it's still considerable.  I didn't have the nerve to read my poetry at that thing on the weekend. 

Meursault

Did an interesting activity in therapy today that was very Inner Child related that might interest other people to try.  Actually, it might even be a good relationship building game!  My therapist brought a Jenga set, and all the pieces had either "Question", "Admire", or "Share" written on them.  Basically, if you got a piece out, you did that thing.  Ask the other person a question, say something you admire about them, or share something personal.  It was really good.  My therapist asked questions to my Inner Child mostly, like: "What is Little Meursault most scared of?" and that sort of thing. 

It was really good, and I felt very connected and EQUAL to my therapist doing that.  And actually cared for as well....  Our session lasted an extra twenty minutes because we were both doing really well with steady hands.

Anyhow, it was a good little exercise and it helped to feel closer to her and more accepted.  It was kind of a lighter session hat way than normal as well.

Thought that was pretty good, and maybe other people might want to try it.

Meursault

I went and bought myself a teddy bear about a year ago.  I thought I'd just put it on the shelf as a sort of reminder or totem.  Turns out, I sleep with it...  and I'm not too embarrassed to admit it!  I'm super glad I got it.

Meursault

Yay!  I'm glad for you!

Thanks, Radical!

I've been going on these solo kayak/canoe trips since 2003, IIRC.  My longest one so far is 42 days.  Most years, I see no one.  I am way too remote for that.  I missed a couple of years because of my legal stuff, they added a curfew, and there were a couple of years I couldn't get the courts permission to do it.  The last two years of being under bail conditions I went to court, with therapist letters saying it's psychologically beneficial (duh!), but the last two years the trips didn't turn out (the only ones since 2003!).  In 2015, the court set a window of time I had to check in with the police on an Indian Reserve, but I got winded in on Great Slave Lake for many days, and turned around rather than breaching my bail conditions.  Then last year, I had that bear encounter, which kiboshed things.

I'm still just holding on, though.  I just caught a romantic commercial on TV and there was this dreamy sequence of the guy picking up this smiling cute woman, and it made me just want to jump off a ledge....  Just that,  a few minutes ago, and I am all shaky, and I'd rather be dead than endure another day of this *...  ugh.... oh well, just try to stop feeling, I suppose... 

Meursault