Mind = Blow

Therapy blew my mind yesterday, 10 minutes before the end of the session she said

‘What does domestic violence mean to you’

‘I suppose a quivering women with 2 black eyes scrubbing socks on a wash board’

‘Im going read you something and I want you to tell me what you think

“The actual violence was more emotional. It was very subtle, little put downs. He started controlling the money. I wouldn’t have any money to buy things for myself. If I spoke I was talking rubbish and wasn’t allowed to speak. He used the car to have power over me. He hated me having contact with my family. He said I was clumsy. He picked my clothes. He said know one would want me”

‘Well what do you think’

I couldn’t speak, tears fell, my mind wouldn’t stop spinning.

‘Read this book and we will chat more next time, remember this is all to much to deal with at once. One think at a time’

There to much to think about, I never considered DV before.

Homework this week

Read my DV book.
Study for a course my work have set up for me.
Do some overtime at work if possible.
Text sister in law back.

Boxing went amazingly. I’m going to keep going. It makes me feel like I have some power.

One decision made, still thinking about the other .

I have finally made the choice regarding if i should see dipsticks mother and sister.

I’m going to do it!

I’m still thinking about if i should give them my address or not?!

I feel calm today – not sunny beach calm but eyes of the storm calm.

NUMB

NUMB

NUMB

NUMB

I’ve developed a method that when ever i start to think about –

him, her, them, my shared past, my pain, the night he would tell me ‘stuff about them’,

I think about a metal vault door slamming shut.

I cant let myself do it anymore.

The issue is it leaves me numb.

I feel dead inside.

I feel like there’s a caged tiger inside me.

When this first happened everyone asked why i was not angry, people i spoke to that had been through the same thing then said i would get angry.

I didn’t get angry, but now i feel odd.

I don’t FEEL angry but i feel like i’m full of anger.

I feel like a caged tiger lives in me.

I feel like the caged tiger is angry, hungry, crazed, bored, hurt, possessed, on edge and damaged.

I feel like shes got bits missing.

She just wants to run and run and run.

She wants to rip and claw and bite and pull things to shreds with her claws.

She wants to roar till her throat burns and her whole world is silent.

Silent and every other being has stopped and is still.

She wants peace.

She wants not to be caged.

She wants to run.

She wants to free.

Sometimes she wants to be alone and sometimes she wants to be with others.

She wants not to hurt.

She wants peace.

Shes looking for the bits that are missing from her, she knows somethings missing.

She doesn’t know what and she doesn’t know where to find them.

She is so hurt.

 

I can sense her anger but i don’t seem to FEEL it.

I sense her pain and i just want her to feel better.

I sense her unease and just want to calm her.

 

I feel numb.

 

Buying in even if I’m not convinced.

After taking a few days to think over my new therapy session I have decided to buy into it.

My new therapist told me that my last one had told her that he couldn’t give me the support I needed. I respect that, it’s not always easy to go to a superior and admit that you need help. He told her I need more regular and longer sessions – he couldn’t do this so she’s taking over.

She called me into her office and BAM – she was a total breath of fresh air.

I’ve never been in therapy before so my last therapist is the yard stick to measure against. I don’t know which one of these is the normal way therapist go about business, but then again I suppose that therapist are all different – like regular people 🙂

The first guy I saw treated me with absolute kid gloves in the 30/45 minutes I got to see him every month. He was soft spoken and gentle and totally non confrontational. I assumed that is what therapy is always like, someone softly speaking to you with a sad smile.

New lady blew that out of the water in 10 minutes. I still feel a little shell shocked by the meeting.

Her first worlds to me went a little something like this –

‘Mandy I’ve read all (first therapists) notes, I get the gist of what’s going on. Now let me tell you, you are going to see me every week and I’m going to help you out the other side of this. It’s going to be hard Mandy, it’s not going to be particularly pleasant BUT what’s happened to you has happened to lots of other women and they have all made it. Your also holding down a full time job, this wont be easy.

Mandy this is too big of a situation to deal with all in one go. I wouldn’t normally do this but considering your situation I’m going to ask you to compartmentalise it. We are going to deal with it a little at a time together. Stop thinking about what to do at the end of the 6 months house share, stop thinking about what you feel you have lost. I’m going to give you tasks to complete each week.

You are going to have to buy into this and help yourself. Your not mad, your not so broken that you won’t heal, everything takes time’

I don’t think she owns any kid gloves 🙂

My home work this week.

Start functioning independently at the most basic level

1 – stop accepting lifts to and from work. Get myself there and back.

2 – cook my own dinner unless going out for a meal, or at a friends house. Stop relying on house share to cook.

3 – start going shopping for food and household items again (fear of seeing them in the local supermarket together gives me panic attacks).

Looking at these I can’t believe how basic these things are, but I’m buying in. I’m going them, I’ve been shopping twice (when I know they are at work) and have made my own dinner every night.

I feel like a bit of a child really but I’m putting my trust in her. Something has to change soon, I’m hoping this is it.

Dead behind the eyes!!

For anyone who has been reading my blog you will know how low I have been.

After the initial impact of finding out about the affair, being metal abused, black thursday and then the PTSD.

I’ve felt since the start of house share I’m in total free fall – oh and by the way my hair seems to be falling out. I don’t mean that in a ironic way, I mean that in a – I keep waking up with a pillow full of hair way. In a – it looks like someone’s shaved cousin IT on my bathroom floor way.

The one place I have managed to hold it together is work.

Work I know, work I’m good at.

Manager took me for a coffee today.

There had been a promotion available in a different department.

‘Mandy I don’t want you to go for the promotion, I have something else in mind’

She explained what this was, I liked the sound of it so its something I’m going to go with.

She then moved on to something else. She told me she knew I was keeping it together at work but how was I at home.

I spilled the beans about the new therapy that starts tomorrow.

Good she said. She told me she feels I need more help.

She said that she thought I looked dead behind my eyes.

I smiled at her, I told her I thought I was.

I think I have taken as much as I can now.

I told her I felt I was free falling.

I’d lost hope of ever having a life.

I felt empty.

I had nothing to go on for.

No reason to go on.

No where to go, couldn’t stay here in the long term – watch him remarry, couldn’t move home where his family live.

No roots, no future, no reason.

She told me she thought I couldn’t go on like this.

She told me she would help me all she could.

She said that I had to push on and try to find meaning.

She said to carry on with my boxing.

I want one day to feel not emotionally dead.

I want to find meaning.

I want a life.

I want a future.

But I worry.

I worry that I’m going to carry on, live with the pain everyday and get back nothing. Never meet anyone, watch him remarry, watch him have kids. No one will ever want me. I don’t want to carry on for nothing.

I forgot to research PTSD, I’m not sure of how much I’m feeling is due to that.

The pain seems to override everything, consume it in white hot flame.

I want there to be something more than the pain.

Realisation

I’m blogging loads today but it feels like on my non anniversary I have to get this stuff out.

I feel full of it, like he’s busting out of my every pore.

Like if I start screaming I’m never gonna stop.

I just been hit by a shocking realisation.

I’m sitting playing Lego with little bro.

Little bro is 12.

I was 12 when I went home and told my dad I was going to marry dipstick.

12

What life choices can you make at 12.

12 – I’m shocked.

I still miss him.

Wasted energy!

I fell down the stairs yesterday.

Housemate had just gone out.

I luckily slipped back and went down on my bum – it could have been my head.

I was carrying a lot – a glass of water, mobile phone, sun glasses, handbag and book.

Half way through the fall I had one of those moments when I realised trying to stop it wasn’t helping. I gave in, I went with it.

I sat at the bottom of the stairs for awhile after. My arse was killing me, I was crying it hurt so bad. I just sat and cried.

I soon realised that sitting and crying and hurting wasn’t gonna help me get on with my day.

So I did a quick assessment.

Glass – not broken, but the contents was all over the stairs.

Book – not wet.

Phone – not wet or broken.

Handbag – contents over the floor but not broken.

Arse – hurt a lot!

Sun glasses – not broken.

After sitting for a while longer I realised the mess wasn’t going to clean itself up, crying didn’t seem to be helping much.

I got myself up and sat in the sofa for a while then picked everything up and cleaned the stairs.

I had a bit of a think while I cleaned up.

No one is going to pick me up.

No one is going to clean up my mess.

Crying isn’t helping me.

I need to be stronger if I can.

I’d also would like to thank everyone for their kind comments.

No one in my ‘real’ life knows I’m writing this, no one knows everything that’s happened. This has been such an outlet!

Hugs