It’s been a while since I have been able to post on here. Two reasons really. One – I was taking a break from my brain. I need to quiet down the storm.
And Two – I don’t really know where I’m at mentally. It was kinda feeling like the Space Mountain ride at Disney. It felt like an unlit path with huge ups and downs. And not really knowing which would be next.
While I’m working on trying to own my story, I find myself still needing to have secrets. No one will believe the whole story. I don’t even believe it. So I waiver between giving up and fighting harder.
The truth is that everyone has something in their past that the wrestle with. We all are so busy keeping on our fixed face, that we can’t let anyone know that we have areas we struggle with.
Ms. A has does a type of therapy that is called “Walk and Talk”. I was very resistant to it because I felt like I had a hard enough time focusing in the office.
But last week she suggested that we go for a walk. And for some reason, I was open to it.
We talked about my feeling about myself and how I continually keep putting the “bad” label on myself.
I definitely don’t feel worthy of the awesome friendships I’ve formed and I don’t feel worthy of being happy.
Happiness has always seemed so temporary, followed by brokenness. So I just learned that it’s better to not give in to the happiness.
Probably sounds crazy to the average person. But sometimes my Mom would be angry at me for being happy when she was not happy. I should have felt more compassionate. I should have felt really bad because she did.
I was always having to parent her. I was always responsible for her sadness. I was always the “cause” of her pain.
After I left the “resort”, my parents moved away. The reason, they said, was because they couldn’t handle my problems anymore. I was about to go into my senior year of high school parentless. I was left to live with my brother who had substance abuse issues and did not care if I was coming or going.
During that year I made the worst decisions. But it was ok since no one knew what I was doing.
I had to keep secrets since I was 5 years old. And to this day, my life is very compartmentalized.
No one knows everything. Not even Ms. A. But how could she respect me if she knew? How could she look at me week after week and not despise me?
So all my life, I’ve tried to keep the flaws hidden. It’s so much work. It’s exhausting. But it has to be done. Who could love all of me? Who could look past my flaws? No one but God right? And maybe even God is dissappointed? Even though he created me.
You’re probably shaking your head in disbelief that one’s thinking could be so skewed. But as a survivor of child sexual abuse, it’s so hard to love who you are. Good or bad. Happy or sad. It’s all in there. Just neatly wrapped and put away. I need to unpack some day and be the person that I’m called to be. Only then can I walk and talk about my journey to a world full of people who have hidden hurts.
Until next time – I am being MJ every day.