I hate those nights when the fear creeps up on you… when you are settling in to sleep and suddenly you find your chest tightening and your thoughts racing… when you find your breath catching and you can’t get enough air into your lungs. 
Tag Archive: therapy
I feel like I am in prison. Trapped between two lives. The life I have always lived, the life that kept me safe growing up … the life that keeps my head down and keeps me busy with things, that keeps every emotion under tight control…. and the life I long for. This life would be free… it would be an emotional roller-coaster and it frankly frightens me. I am afraid that if I embrace this life – if I just allow myself to feel what-ever I feel in the moment that I will sometimes be cruel, that I will sometimes be snappy and inconsiderate… I am afraid that I will make mistakes while I am learning how to live outside my own head and alienate people. Playing it safe is getting me nowhere…but it is the only thing I have ever known. The only time I wore my emotions on my skin was a time when I did not really care what anyone else thought – they could just take me or leave me just as I am. I was arrogant and terrified at the same time. I don’t know how to find that peace inside. I don’t know how to be what I am supposed to be.
I am a dead girl. I died a long time ago. I died when you raped me and what-ever it was deep inside me that made me “me” is gone. I don’t know how I am still walking around most days. I suppose I do it because I am on auto-pilot and the other me is at the controls, making sure I smile in the appropriate places and say the right things and hold my body posture and facial expressions in the right way so that no one will know they are talking to a zombie.
How do you bring a dead girl back to life? How do you convince her that she is safe when she doesn’t even know what “safe” means? How do you get her to trust you when you have despised her – hated her all these years. How, now, do I draw her out and show her compassion and delight. How do I warm her cold body and tell her that even though it was not ok what happened to her that it SHE will be ok… at least she will be one day.
How do I figure out how to forgive myself? I can forgive others. I have… my abusers – I forgive them all – I release them to God. I pray for them… but myself??!? I feel utterly lost here.
The dead girl… maybe I don’t bring her back to life… maybe I bury her and the robot and find out who I am without either of them helping me through life. Maybe there is another me in here … that super-secret special me who loves fresh picked flowers, slow dances, warm embraces, laughter… she loves the way long dresses feels brushing against her legs, she loves to twirl and blow dandelions to make wishes. She loves to be held and rocked and have her hair brushed… she loves surprises and presents and the smell of fresh-baked bread. She cries at the sad parts of books and movies (even if she has read/seen them a hundred times). She loves to paint and sing and take long bubble baths. She is very tenderhearted and her feelings are easily hurt. She is fierce and protective and makes lots of mistakes.
How do I do this? How do I move on from what I had to become to what I truly am? This feels impossible and I feel so lost and alone and afraid. I pray for help…God, please help me…
I hate anxiety…. I know, I know… everyone hates anxiety… That is nothing new… but I must say – that hard to breathe, bees in your chest feeling is nearly the worst thing I have ever felt. I feel sometimes like I am drowning in all of the pain from my past, the pain from my present and the uncertainty of my future. I want to find some balance between work and rest… between where I am and where I want to be… between striving and arriving… I don’t want to be stuck here where I am… I don’t want to be stuck at just ok… at just surviving… I want to move on to be fully alive…to be fully passionate and aware… fully at rest and feeling safe in my own skin… I want to speak without over-thinking everything… I want to say (and type) whatever is on my mind and heart without censure, without worrying about every thought – every syllable. I don’t want to worry about my words and facial expressions. I want to be able to express how I feel without even trying. I want it to be natural…I don’t want to be locked away in my head surrounded by coping mechanisms, walls and defense mechanisms… I want to live out in the sun – feeling the warmth kiss my skin and the breeze ruffle my hair.
I’ve got that feeling again… the buzzing of angry bees in my chest. I wonder sometimes how long this struggle with anxiety will last? Will I carry this with me always? Will I ever get to the place where I can feel safe and at home in my own skin? What battle am I fighting today that I feel this way? When do I get to rest? I feel like I have been fighting one battle or another since the day I was born. I guess we all are in some form or fashion. I long for peace. I long for comfort… I long to feel. I have been numb for far too long. I guess I am finally learning where the bees come from… those angry bees that swarm in my chest and make it hard to breathe. I think they are all the emotions I have refused to let myself feel. Now to loose the bees and regain some measure of peace I am choosing to feel all the painful things that I would not (or could not) feel. I am crying and raging and curling up in a ball and allowing myself to feel small and vulnerable… I am fighting for me. I will win.
How do we cope? How do we deal? How do we ‘get over it?’ How do we get through this? When you’ve been raped how do you get on with life? What does ‘getting on with life’ even look like? We study, we read, we become experts in body language, we become invisible, we become smarter, harder, distant… some see us as cold…
I studied… I studied psychology, psychopathology, maladaptive coping mechanisms, anxiety, depression… I watched people, studied body language, facial expressions… I got to the point when I was aware of my surroundings at all times… I kept my back to the wall, knew where the exits were, listened to everyone in the room.
After many years I am finding my peace again, finding my center, leaning on God, learning to pray & trust and that it is ok to hope again. I want to help others now. I want to reach out and share my story… I want it to matter. I want the things I’ve seen & survived to make a difference… desperate to make a difference. I am desperate to have my pain mean something…
My husband and I went hiking at Fort Clinch State Park last weekend. The weather was lovely and the park was (as usual) breath-taking. I really enjoy hiking along the beach here – we always see wild-life of one kind or another. I hope you enjoy the photos!
I can feel it again… that tightness in my chest…
the tears, the throat so tight I cannot swallow.
Grief fills my lungs with cries I will not utter.
I feel the pull… the desire to be “ok”
the desire to bury this pain and pretend
that I am not in agony…
I feel it again… this drowning
all-consuming tidal wave swelling
toward me… so much pain… and I stand
on the open beach… arms out-stretched…
do your worst.
Haunted by memories I grasp for you and quickly push you away.
I cannot stomach this closeness yet I desire your touch – crave it – NEED it…
Fear arises as the brush of your hand resurrects ghosts thought long exorcised…
My body trembles, haunted by the abuse that still lives in my skin and in my breast, beating like a second heart.
It is chaos here… shouts, whispers, whimpers, cries…
Locked in the asylum of my mind.
captivatingbitter 