voicelessagony2 journal

[Kizzie]

It is good practice isn't it?!       The first while that I posted at OOTF was so unnerving and I remember having EFs because I just felt so vulnerable, like someone was going to yell at me (enter the ghosts of my FOO). 

I'm able to be much more open now and credit that to being at OOTF and now here.  I must admit though that I still have moments when I feel uneasy about a post and want to hide    I have to remind myself I am in a safe place and that's it a good (healthy) thing to use my voice. 

FWIW you might want to try posting in one of the forums in the Guest Centre about what you'd like others to know about your experience and needs/wants re CPTSD.  No pressure or anything, it's just an opportunity for some more practice.      

[voicelessagony2]

I'm working up to that. I want to write something to post in there, but I'm not sure how to describe what I want to say... it's not a fearful thing, I just want to be coherent, and right now I'm just not sure how to say what I want to say.

Does that make sense?

[Kizzie]

It does Voiceless (make sense). Sometimes I find it it takes forever to write a post and I go over it and over it because I can't quite capture what it is I want to say.  Comes from not being heard for so long I guess. Thinking something in your head and getting it down is a bit of an art.

[voicelessagony2]

I'm so glad you understand.

I'm really surprised at myself, in a good way, that I've been somewhat consistently journaling. That's always been tough for me, but I totally understand why it's important and I see firsthand the benefits beginning to happen.

I know I have an excellent writer in me, somewhere. I can't wait to get some of this blockage chipped away, and start telling my stories!

[voicelessagony2]

I'm angry at the whole world right now.

I'm sick of trying to get what I want from R. and maybe it's not deliberate, but it is predictable and systematic, the way he shuts down every single attempt at any communication I initiate. Every time I share some progress I have made with my most difficult inner struggles, he responds by saying, "I TOLD you that a long time ago!!! If you would just listen to me, you would already know that! I'M so frustrated that you won't listen! You never listen to me!" That was his response when I told him that I was excited because I caught a ANT - automatic negative thought - which really is a big deal to me, because they are SO automatic that they just blend in with the swirling fog of emotions and non-negative thoughts... it's like learning about a nearly invisible insect, and seeing one for the first time in the wild, and actually CATCHING it... but of course, it's one thing for me to find the words for such a vivid description now, when I have time to sit down, alone with my thoughts, and write, as opposed to responding in the moment, for me literally impossible because my brain has been hijacked by a full blown EF.

This is how he responds to every goddamn thing I say to him, no matter what topic, no matter how benign or even positive. He refutes, disputes, and disagrees with everything as a matter of foregone conclusion. If it's coming out of my mouth, it is presumed to be wrong. So, even if I try to tell him exactly that, (that he disagrees with everything) he disagrees with THAT, completely missing the irony, and I am declared to be "wrong." He will defend his own character to the death of this relationship, because I cannot ask him to change anything about himself, or the way he communicates with me.

I've tried writing down things I want to say to him in emails or printing them out, and he won't read them. Or, if he does, he won't respond, either in writing or verbally. When I ask him if he read it, he says "Why can't you just talk to me about it? I don't have time/I'm too tired/etc. to read stuff like that."

I'm sick of trying to fix myself all day, every day, with no emotional support from him. And it would seem that I'm trying to fix this relationship by myself, too.

I had a migraine that lasted for 3 full days that started last Friday. I was out of medicine. I woke up Friday with the migraine (about a level 3 on a scale of 1 to 10, with 10 being the worst), but didn't say anything until around mid-day Saturday, when I just couldn't take it any more, and it had increased to about a level 5. I searched through my papers until I found the rx I got a couple weeks ago, and I had to ask him for money to get it filled. He said, "Are you serious? I just spent $100 ordering some meds (from overseas), it will be here in a few weeks! Are you sure you really need this right now? You don't seem to be in pain, you've been doing stuff around the house, you don't act like you are in pain???" Eventually he gave in and I got my meds. But, another nail in the coffin.

He also took back the credit card he had given me, which I was using for gas and food. I was being as responsible as I knew how to be, only buying food to cook dinners with, not using a lot of gas - not difficult for me, as I would rather not leave the house anyway - but he still thought I was spending too much, and took it away. Surprisingly, I wasn't even upset at the moment, and we had a calm discussion, but I'm really disappointed with the outcome. Here's why: When he gave me the card, he never gave me any limit or guideline, like a dollar amount per week or whatever to shoot for, so I just shopped for food as I always have. After we talked, I had to admit, that I had never bothered to compare prices at different grocery stores. (I know, basic stuff, but I've never done this... money has always been overwhelming and confusing to me.) HOWEVER, I'm aware enough to know that with no income, I cannot keep buying non-essentials like alcohol, snacks, sodas, (I even gave up my Monster addiction!) so that stuff was already off the table. All I needed (but it did not occur to me to ask for) was for him to give me a number, like, if he had said at the beginning "Keep it around $100 a week" I would have done whatever it took to stay in that limit. So he made this decision in his own mind, and told me that he would give me $100 in cash, plus $30 for gas or whatever. I told him fine, whatever, but all you had to do was tell me. His response was to tell me that he shouldn't have to tell me, that I should have been able to "figure it out" or whatever, what the limit was.

So that, to me is unacceptable. Not the fact that he took his credit card away, but the fact that I was supposed to GUESS what my spending limit was. And even now, after we talked, he is unwilling to give me the card WITH the agreed-upon guidelines.

Sometimes I think about the men you see on TV and movies that just assume that the women they marry or live with are going to cost them lots of money, and those women go shopping for clothes, buy stuff for their kids, and the men just work harder to earn more money for their family. Is that even real? How is it that I have never once experienced anything anywhere close to that?

And then I think about the countless Sundays in church, listening to the preachers talk about how evil money is, how it's easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to go to heaven. They tell this to a building full of working-class people, in a church that cost more than any of them could imagine spending on a house, and being asked to give 10% of their blue collar wages to "the Lord."

Money, like food, becomes toxic to some of us with mental illness - necessary for survival, but also a source of shame, binging and purging, anorexia, and the equivalent of body image distortion (unable to judge amount), and we need help to learn how to use it in a healthy way. Maybe religion didn't cause my money disorder, but it didn't help.

I grew up doing everything I was told to do. I got good grades, I kept my mouth shut, I never cried or complained. In my early teens I became painfully aware of my appearance, and transformed myself from a neglected, nerdy, awkward child to a trend savvy, fashion conscious young lady. I taught myself to shove my insecurity and shame deep, paste on a smile, and put my best face out there, for fear someone would see the real me. Dress for success.

Later in life, I got a degree, and my panic-fueled drive pushed me to constantly reach for better and better jobs, and I managed to advance in my career.

(Can anybody else see the irony of working so hard to look the part, and being so successful at doing so, that nobody will listen or believe you when you try to tell them something is wrong?)

It was always easy for me to figure out what people wanted to hear in interviews, and giving convincing, oscar-worthy performances became second nature. Maybe I should have been an actor??? Then, every job I landed got my 100% best effort to do what they asked, or more, and every time I (apparently) missed something important that nobody would ever tell me so I could fix it next time. After every job, I spent months in confusion and depression.

I'm outraged when I look back at my life, and how many times I have been begging, crying out for attention in so many different ways... first, drugs and alcohol, promiscuity, loud music, etc., and then later going to therapist after therapist, family and friends, trying to tell them SOMETHING IS WRONG WITH ME. For the first 18 years, I was blamed. I was just a rotten teenager, or I didn't pray hard enough. Then, the remaining of my 47 years, the only answer I got was, a pat on the head and "Oh, sweetie, there is NOTHING WRONG WITH YOU. You are a beautiful young (not hearing that so much any more, ha!) lady, you are intelligent, you are creative, why would you think such silly things?" So, on one hand I'm told there is nothing wrong with me, but on the other hand, nobody wants to work with me & won't tell me why.

So here I am, nearly a year after my last job. I deliberately chose not to get back on that insane merry-go-round. I continue to choose to ignore all that "cheerleader" advice that works so well for many, but right now, it threatens to divert my attention and energy away from recovery. "You can do anything! Never give up! Shoot for the moon!" No. Not now. I have taken the red pill and I see that I must stop and breathe. I must remove myself from that cycle of madness until I can proceed with a plan, and I can figure out where I am going.

[voicelessagony2]

Right now, I think I am in a very fearful state.

I'm not sure if it's fear, but I feel frozen. I had no goals today, nor yesterday, and now I feel like I'm doomed. I feel a sense of failure. How can I be simultaneously apathetic and anxious? I chose to do some writing today, some reading, listened to podcasts, but I blew off grocery shopping and house cleaning. I washed the dishes but the floor is disgusting.

I am convinced I will never know what it is like to earn money and make good decisions with it. I will be dependent on R or my mom until one of us dies. What is the point?

Where is this fear coming from?

[Trees]

VoicelessAgony, I deeply empathize with you and your situation.  I also have had a lot of experience with crazy mixtures of emotions that feel so endless and overwhelming.  And I have always felt a lot of anger about this.  And my anger always caused more complications.  Not that I could stop it.

Nowadays I find that crying does indeed usually help me calm down and give myself a little compassion.  I do hope you can find some compassion for yourself as you weather your situation.  I send you lots of hugs. . . . .                 

[voicelessagony2]

Thank you Trees. Thanks for the hugs. 

Made me smile a little. :-)