So tired...

[sasha~]

I had a rough T session today. My T is great - safe, honest, authentic, caring. She actually said she was sorry today - sorry for what happened to me and I just went to pieces and cried my eyes out. I couldn't explain or even breathe. (She kept saying "breathe now")  Then the mean voice inside starts telling me how stupid I'm being and how sorry I'll be later and how she'll think bad things about me. Telling the inner critic to shut up - fighting fire with fire. Maybe not the best, my T suggested. Perhaps telling the inner critic that it was OK and that I was safe and that it doesn't have to be angry.

I'm tired of all this. I'm tired of all the "voices" in my head and wishing to shut everyone up except the grown up me - the me I've created as an adult: responsible, kind, good, trustworthy. I'm tired of hiding that bad child who got abused. I'm tired of hiding the angry voice who is trying to protect the child. (I guess??) I'm tired of feeling afraid all the time - I'm tired that PANIC is my only emotion. I'm either in a panic or hiding panic or numbing it with a drink or sleep. I'm tired of waiting for my abuser to die so I can breathe again and be safe for the first time. (I'm NC with the abusers but, still, it never feels totally safe.)

I'm an adult. I'm a good mom. I'm a good wife. I'm a good worker in a helping field. People like me. But these are the created me -- the me I've created. The only me I want to be, but there's no way to escape the other mes... the one people did things to. It's such poisonous shame. Like a toxic swamp of quicksand.

I've always loved mystery stories. The good kind: Agatha Christie, etc. Old fashioned ones where the good guy gets the bad guy. The brave people get the bad people. I've got to face facts though, don't I? The brave people aren't coming. There isn't anyone who is going to get the bad people. The bad people are going to get away with it and no one is going to stop them.

I'm big now. I'm safe. But I don't feel safe or big. I'm tired of waiting for someone to rescue me. They're never coming, are they? No one is coming to help me.

I'm tired. Maybe tomorrow will be better. Thank you for listening.

[Trees]

Sasha, I am sorry you are feeling overwhelmed with negative stuff.  You don't deserve it.  You deserve safety, and also the sensation of safety as well as the actual reality of safety.  You deserve love and comfort and safety.

Sometimes it feels embarrassing to break down crying, even in front of one's own therapist, but I am beginning to find personally that it is the gut-wrenching kind of crying that helps me get unstuck a little bit.  It seems like the more I express my grief, actually squeeze it out of me, I can actually start to feel a bit of relief.

It is hard to be that full of grief.  I hope you will stay in touch here. 
Sending hugs           

[DaisyMae]

HI Sasha,

I'm here with you.  I know exactly how you feel.  I was starting to feel better.  Or I thought at least less tired.  I can't seem to get past the shame of so many things when I was a child, the feelings of worthlessness and no matter what I do now as an adult is never good enough for anyone.  I, too, have been waiting for someone to rescue me but they are never coming.  My T has reminded me of that several times.  We have to rescue ourselves, no one else is going to save us.  But, it is okay to ask for help and the T is there to help guide us. 

DM

[woodsgnome]

Sasha,

For me, the fatigue factor is huge, and it takes a heavy toll dealing with that burden of pain, shame and especially people who take advantage of those they consider to be weak.

Something you wrote especially struck me. You said: "I've got to face facts though, don't I? The brave people aren't coming [to rescue me]. There isn't anyone who is going to get the bad people." The facts are that you ARE that brave person you're seeking. You demonstrated that by showing the true courage that starts from the depths of feeling vulnerable and taken advantage of. The bad people could never match that bravery--they only knew how to destroy, and they're the shameful ones.

And you found refuge here, and with your T, too. You felt safe and strong enough to share and ask for help when you truly needed it. That's the real mark of that brave person you're seeking. So thank you ! We all have days when the fatigue falls heavy; but also times when we can rediscover the vast sense of power these four words can bring: Be Kind to Yourself.   

[sasha~]

Thank you all so much. I am still so tired. I am a teacher - I teach adult learners. Part of what I do is help instill a sense of self-worth and self-value in my students. This week I taught a wonderful class of really wonderful people. And also a mentor and friend died - a woman who helped so many people through hospice and she died in another state... so quickly. I am overwhelmed with the unfairness of life right now. I know for many of us that's always there - life is unfair. It feels almost unbearable at the moment.

Raising children with love, self-respect and self-esteem, raising great human beings didn't fix my childhood. I thought it would, but it didn't. Teaching wounded and needy people to help themselves and others doesn't fix my childhood. Helping others to feel loved doesn't repair the fact that I have never been loved or cared for or protected by someone bigger than me. So much of my adult life was spent trying to fix the damage done to me, by making sure it wasn't done to anyone else -- by loving and caring for and protecting other people. Why does it leave me hollow? Why didn't it work?

I'm not sorry I chose this path. I'm a people-empowerer. A compulsive encourager. A person who will never let someone else be hurt, because I know how it feels.

But it doesn't erase the utter heartbreak of what people did to me, and the people who let it happen. All these years. First the years of suffering at the hands of people who should have helped me. Then the years of trying to make it right by loving others.

Now... it didn't work. It didn't make things right. I'm still the exact same unloved, unprotected, unimportant, overlooked, unworthly, ugly little thing I always was.

What I did didn't fix it. How hard is it to love one little girl? Really love her? Keep her safe... It must be impossible -- no one could do it.

[CreativeCat]

Sasha, I'm sorry this is feeling so hard at the moment. I feel this could be my own ic speaking.

You sound lovely and loveable. Ive come to the conclusion myself that people can be stupid and selfish and clueless and nasty. As a child being around people like this you would have sucked that all in and taken it on as your own. It was not you.

Keep goung, I know its hard but keep going and you will find love and compassion for yourself and then forgiveness for not having it all along. I'm sure you will want to sweep yourself up into a big giant hug and keep yourself safe and love yourself.

We're here with you

[coda]

First the years of suffering at the hands of people who should have helped me. Then the years of trying to make it right by loving others.

Now... it didn't work. It didn't make things right.

Yes, this is so familiar, and at times nearly unbearable. The unrelenting,  seemingly unfixable power of the original sins against our personhood. The "gift" that never stops giving--that deep sense of unworthiness, worthlessness. The futility of ever making it right, no matter how hard we try...or what we actually achieve. The hole that gets patched over with real life happiness but never truly gets filled. I think sometimes that love itself was forever poisoned, certainly self love. Helping others, giving them exactly what we were (and often still are) denied feels wonderful and meaningful, and it is an achievement to do good. That's not a platitude. The older I get the more I respect kindness, because I see it is so hard and so rare. But you're right. It isn't enough, not nearly. It doesn't take the pain or fear away.

I'm still the exact same unloved, unprotected, unimportant, overlooked, unworthly, ugly little thing I always was.

No, this I can't agree with. The child within us is perpetually beaten down and friendless. This is her howl, and she needs to be acknowledged. Do that, but don't think like her, and don't believe anything but her pain. Her view is from inside the cell, limited by powerlessness, marrow-deep despair and our family's perversions. She hurts, and she's part of you, but not all of you. Not even close, sasha.

I've long suspected (and worried -- because I can't figure out how to overcome it) that childhood damage like ours created a desire that can never be met, not by anything or anyone. Nothing we do, nothing we receive, ever quite reaches the hollow part, or sates our hunger for long. And when those pangs start they can take over, disparaging everything, forcing us back into that dank cell, along with our ancient ruminations and our family's hatred/incompetence. We dreamed of freedom, fairness, purpose and love, but perhaps unrealistically, as only a child who's never known those things imagines them. This is the part of us that nobody gets and nobody reaches.