Crazy and Confused

It is starting to become a difficulty to find the time to write. For the first time in years I'm working a normal 8-5 schedule, I'm finding it hard to adjust. I'm happy with my job though so it's worth the struggle.

I do need to apologize as I haven't been keeping up with reading my surviving and thriving friends blogs, I do hope you are all well and even though I'm not reading, you're not far from my thoughts...

I've been struggling with feelings of sadness and despair since Saturday morning. I woke up feeling defeated and flattened. Saturday evening I was going to the liquor store and when I got to my car I just started sobbing uncontrollably - the type of crying where you start to hyperventilate. I sat in my freezing cold car for over 20 minutes hunched over just bawling. I was finally able to slow the tears and I went for a drive, a few times contemplating flooring it and smashing into something, the entire time thinking no one would know it was suicide, it would be blamed on the icy road conditions. I drove around for a long time before I was finally calmed down enough and I went to the liquor store, I only let myself get one case of Joe's Stiff Root beers and then came home. My boyfriend and his brother were in the living room watching the hockey game. I just took off my coat, cracked open two bottles and disappeared into my bedroom. I chugged back the first bottle, used my lighter to crack open the second and pounded that back. I went and got the other two bottles, lit a smoke and chugged away. After getting all 4 bottles down in less than 10 minutes I sat on my bed trying not to cry and trying to understand where this was coming from. There has to be a reason for feeling so incredibly sad, yet I can't find one.

My boyfriend came into the room to make sure I was OK and he saw that I wasn't instantly. He knelt in front of me with his hands on my knees and asked what was wrong. I told him I don't know... he said I could talk to him... it took every ounce of strength I had to hold those tears in. I wanted to crack, let the tears out and let him hold me and comfort me. I couldn't. I wanted to tell him that I hurt, it feels like my heart is dying but I couldn't... I couldn't get the words out, instead I just looked at my feet and lied... I'm OK, go watch the game. He hugged me, I held on for dear life not wanting to let him go, not wanting to be alone feeling like I was, like I still do...

I'm fighting the tears as I write this, listening to the Foo Fighters and smoking a cigarette. Wishing I could just melt into the chair and disappear forever...

"Can you go another round?
I will follow you down and out,
Let's go another round,
I will follow you down and out"

Disgust

A comment left by someone triggered this post... They admitted something I've been utterly ashamed of admitting, even to myself at times... it's time for it to come out

At times, when I was a child, I would invite the abuse from my father.

It was usually the only attention I got, and sometimes, it made me feel special.

God, just reading that makes me sick.

I remember that sometimes I would sit on his knee, wrap my arms around him and just wait for him to touch me...

I guess that makes me ultimately fucked up

And it's only fueling the "it's my fault"

Things are OK

It's been a while since I updated this... things have been going OK and I haven't been wanting to write about anything to drudge any bad feelings up...

I got a new job!!! I'm so happy! When I quit my other job, it was like this weight was lifted off my shoulders and I could breathe a little easier. That feeling hasn't gone away, and I am a lot less stressed, which means I'm sleeping a little bit better and I'm not as grumpy or short as I have been in the past few months.

It's amazing how a simple change of jobs can affect you so much.

I had a good session with T this week. We went for a walk like I had asked, mildly froze our asses off (it was -5C) for 50 minutes. The point of the walk was so I could go over the rape minute by minute, but I couldn't bring myself to talk about it, instead we spent most of the time talking about how I am incredibly angry with myself for not seeing any of the warning signs. T spent most of that time going over different scenarios and how others would have reacted to the signs...

Him calling me 5 or 6 times a day to find out where I was, what I was doing, who I was with...
Him getting angry if I didn't answer my cell EVERY time he called...
The I luv u teddy bear after a few weeks of dating...

T said that even a person who didn't have a history of sexual or emotional abuse would not see those as a precursor to rape, at the most they would have started to cool off the relationship and distance themselves. She said others might have seen it as romantic and not thought twice about it...

I guess I have unrealistic expectations of myself, and T agreed. She said I am too hard on myself and need to ease up... I laughed my ass off at that and told her C tells me that all the time. I don't know how to change that...

T and C tell me that I need to have empathy for myself... I understand empathy and I have no problem empathising with others, but it's next to impossible to have any empathy for me, I'm guessing because a part of me still feels responsible for the things my father did, for being raped and then running off to get married to an abusive man... I can understand having one of those things happen to me, but to have three absolutely horrible things happen... I see it as my fault because I should have known better. And when I say that to C or T, they usually ask if it was a friend or someone else who experienced what I have is it their fault? I always say no it's not their fault because how would they know better if they grew up with it, it's familiar to them. I just can't apply that to myself though and I don't know why, I don't know what in my head or in my unconscious blocks that out for myself...

Can anyone else relate?