MuddyFingersMeg

Eat, drink, (garden, knit, quilt, think, fix, read) & be merry

What goes up…

on April 20, 2011

I hadn’t cried (much) for several days. I was on my game, getting schoolwork done, moving forward, chatting with strangers, making friends, feeling good.

And then, crash.

I’m barely able to get out of bed, the anxiety is crushing, I have to remember to breathe. I can’t stay asleep, I can’t stand to be awake, I need to scream but I can’t stand my own voice.

Fuck. Can I say that here? And I was going to give up swearing this year.

Will I get my life back? Isn’t “healing” suppose to be about getting better? Making improvements? Instead I feel like my sanity is slowly draining away.   I feel crazier, less stable, more neurotic. This would be terrifying if it wasn’t so exhausting.

I feel like calling my mom for Mother’s Day and flipping the fuck out on her. Her absolute, unspoken denial of my entire childhood is suffocating. Can someone confirm my vague, remembered reality? Can someone vouch that my memories are accurate? Because I can’t possibly believe they are. What mother allows a man to lock her child in an unventilated bathroom with instructions to clean it with a solution of ammonia and bleach? What mother repeatedly responds to her child’s pleas for food with the words shouted through a door, “Whatever it is – run it under cold water and put a bandaid on it!” What mother delivers her little girl to a boyfriend so he can “make sure she’s developing properly”?  I can’t be remembering this right, can I? Can I?

The worst is what I don’t remember, what is shrouded behind half-memories that flicker between reality and and a dream state. There were several years that my brother lived with my dad. But I can’t recall anytime my brother and I didn’t live in the same house. I’ve forgotten years.  I have dark memories of a man walking into my bedroom at night, but I can’t remember anything after that.  Was it a dream?  Was he just checking on me, warmly tucking in the blankets?  Or something more nefarious?  What happened to me? What didn’t happen? And where are my memories?  Where the fuck are my memories?

And why is that man living in rational society? Why is he not locked in prison? Why isn’t he paying for my therapy? Paying for all the years I lost spinning wildly just trying to get my feet under me? Would it be inappropriate (or illegal) to make a sign, “A ped*ophile lives here” and stand in front of his house? Because, godamnit, I may be broken but I am not afraid of him anymore.

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5 responses to “What goes up…

  1. San says:

    Please take the time to find some support groups and aid to help in your suffering. You may know I’m a medical transcriptionist, and even though I’ve not suffered your area of trauma, others have. There is help. There are those who will listen and not just because they are being paid to. Is there a quilting group in your area? It’s a wonderful way to heal through fabric. I’ll even be happy to send you a starter kit if you’d like to begin. Dolly and I care. We hate to see suffering.

  2. Meg says:

    Hi San – thanks for your kind words. It’s always comforting to know others care, and that activities that I love (fabric!) can promote healing. Although I’m not currently a part of a quilting group, I do have other forms of support. Thank goodness. I’d love to be a part of a quilting group someday, but I can’t manage an additional group right now.

    Sometimes, though, the anger and the sadness just need to flow through me. Last night was the culmination of a few particularly awful days. But today I’m feeling somewhat better. It’s just the unpredictability of it that I find most difficult. I just never know how I’m going to feel, and that’s hard. As someone who has mastered and depended on the art of suppressing anything difficult, it’s a challenge to learn to accept and move through those experiences. Baby steps, right? I hope your beautiful dog heals quickly. She looks like a lovely companion. 🙂

  3. Minke says:

    Oh Megs – I wish I could give you a big hug right now. You are doing some terribly hard work. So incredibly unfair that you have to (I’m pissed on your behalf and want to go put that sign up myself!!), yet so important. I have to say from the outside that I really believe you will come through this with some real healing and peace to show for it. It must be so hard to believe that when you’re feeling so crushed by all that intense feeling. Have you ever written your mom or her ex-boyfriend a letter? You don’t have to commit to mailing it, just writing it. But you could mail it. You could. Whether or not you have her in your life is ultimately your choice – she doesn’t own you, and after what you’ve been through, you don’t owe it to her. You only need ever to see her because you actually want to,and IMO, nobody has any business telling you otherwise..
    You’re strong and capable and able to see yourself through this rocky and uncertain place. And you have a ton of people in your life who love you and care about you – because YOU built that for yourself.
    -M

  4. Meg says:

    Thanks, Minke. It’s so hard to trust that this is helpful. It just feels like I’m regressing, not making progress, you know? But maybe that’s part of the process? I’m not sure. But I so appreciate your (and other people’s) confidence that I’ll come out the other side. I hold on to that. I have to, because I can’t see that far for myself right now.

    M did suggest I write those letters. I did it, and promptly burned them, but I’m not sure I was in a place where that was helpful. Maybe I am now? I do feel like I’m going to have to say something to her, I’m just not sure how yet.

    Thanks, as always, for your support. You mean more to me than I can possibly say. There is much in life I wouldn’t have tackled without your encouragement. Thanks.

  5. Jennifer says:

    Dear, dear woman. Sometimes you roll with the punches, and sometimes you can stand up and fight back. Be gentle with yourself, either way. This work you’re doing–and it is work–will make you more whole, eventually, even if that seems forever and a day away.
    I’ll help you make the sign, too, and stand beside you. You’ve built yourself a beautiful family and friends network, and it’s because you–at your core–are fan-freaking-tastic.

    Much love to you from the Northland.

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