I’m having one of those days… one of those days where my heart won’t stop pounding and I can scarcely breathe. My ears are ringing and I hate this feeling. Every little thing is getting under my skin. I feel defensive and easily offended… I feel like a bundle of raw nerve endings. Does this ever go away? Will there ever be a time when I experience my very last panic attack? Will I ever live day after day with no heart-pounding, chest-tightening, jumping at every sound, sweaty palms, can’t breathe intrusions into my psyche?? I don’t even know how to imagine this kind of life. How do I imagine being at home in my own skin? What would it feel like to be at rest in myself? What must it be like to simply sit down and read a good book? To get lost in music? To enjoy a cup of tea or a hot shower without feeling pressure to get up and pace, clean, fidget?? How do I get to the point where I can rest without feeling guilty? How do I kick this voice out of my head that tells me continually that I am not good enough, that I am lazy, that I am not doing enough and what I am doing I am not doing right? Perfection does not equal happiness… Part of me believes once I understand this I may find peace.
Tag Archive: emotional abuse
I’ve been thinking a lot about Dante’s Divine Comedy…specifically his Inferno and I have decide I have 7 levels of my not-okay-ness…I know this is not grammatically correct 🙂 But it’s the best way I can explain it… Here’s how it goes… In this scenario I knock my contact solution off the sink edge due to my infinite clumsiness…
Level One: I have no reaction… I just pick it up and put it back.
Level Two: I take a deep breath, sigh, then put it back.
Level Three: I take a deep breath, huff, blow, slam it back down.
Level Four: I growl at the contact solution, pick it up, slam it down, huff, mumble and clench my fists…then take a deep breath…
Level Five: I growl, glare at the contact solution, leave it there, huff, sigh, take a moment to calm myself down and take a deep breath.
Level Six: I yell at the contact solution, I glare at it, I kick it across the room, yell at it some more and pick it up and slam it down.
Level Seven: I yell at the contact solution, sink, mirror and any inanimate object around, I pick up the contact solution and throw it against the mirror, I cry, I pick it up and throw it again.
Does anyone else have days like this filled with irrational emotional craziness? I hate this rage…this overly emotional out of control feeling….I certainly don’t want to go through life feeling like this… How do I get a handle on it?
I know no one really like anxiety, but I hate the way I feel right now! My heart is pounding, I am having trouble breathing I cannot think straight… I hate this!!! I want to scream right now. I hate this feeling of fear – terror really. I hate feeling trapped inside my own skin. I hate the swarm of bees buzzing in my chest, the tightness in my lungs, the crawling in my skin the jangling nerves. I hate that I feel so helpless to this feeling. I hate this! I feel crazy and I feel desperate and I would almost do anything to make it go away….
To the person who refuses to get it
To the person who cannot see me through the mask of his own making
To the person who calls ME the monster
To the person who thinks this blog was written to hurt HIS family
You know who you are –
You Repel Me (to quote Sherlock)
You disappoint me.
You are not my judge – you are not my jury – you are not fit to judge me and you have no freaking idea what you are talking about. Don’t act all wounded and expect me to buy it. Don’t pretend righteous outrage and expect me to pity you or to cower before you. Don’t be surprised when I fight back. I’m not the person you knew. Don’t make the mistake of thinking that you know me or that you have ANY right to my life…. any right to know me, to speak to me or to comment on my life in any medium. You lost any right – any claim you may have had on my life – years ago. You think Dad is so wonderful? Where were you when he was talking about testifying on Eddie’s behalf as a character witness? You think Mom is a victim? How many times have you heard her stand up for herself but allow him to bull-doze over us? You think you know me? Think again. I am no going to go along with you and pretend our family was this happy family. I am not going to pretend that Dad saying “I’m sorry if I did anything to hurt you.” is an actual apology. I am not going to pretend that Mom playing the role of the weak wounded woman is going to move me in the face of the life I’ve lived through. You do not know me. You have no idea what I am capable of. You are not welcome here. You do not want to know my heart, my thoughts? Then don’t ever come back – don’t read another word. Just walk away – it’s what you are good at.
I am reading this book by Susan Forward called Toxic Parents (Overcoming Their Hurtful Legacy and Reclaiming Your Life). I am really enjoying it so far. I can see a little of my family in each chapter. I grew up alternately feeling invisible and feeling conspicuous. There was a part of me that longed to be seen, to be known and accepted… yet – there was another part of me that waned to hide, that wanted to blend into the background as to avoid pain. It was a mass of confusion. Having on the one hand parents who gave us gifts and spent time with us and took us on vacations… and on the other hand those same parents systematically broke us into pieces. My father would call me beautiful, then accuse me of being vain in virtually the same breath. My mother just stood by and did what-ever he wanted. My father would get angry with us and whip us and my mother would have us go apologize to the man. I never did understand what my crime was. All these years later I still feel pulled apart by it all. Will I ever be whole?








