Rare Sighting…

…I saw today.

photo from google images

A woman holding her little son’s hand AND she was not on a phone. She was smiling and I could see as I drove past them, that she was talking to him. He was walking right by her side

At first, I thought she was holding a phone in the hand that wasn’t holding her son’s. But it was in fact not a phone. .

What she held was paper money for the trolley they were walking toward to catch.


Another Emotional Flashback

On Friday (yesterday) it happened. First thing in the morning and it ruined my entire day. And here it is almost 3pm on Saturday and I’m still feeling like shit. In fact, in some ways I feel angrier than I did yesterday.

It was brought on by another episode of B not hearing me, not caring enough to listen to what I told him. I won’t go into the details of the incident but I lost it.

I was shouting about how I’m convinced on some level (no matter what he says) that he enjoys my reactions. That I feel sabotaged each time I get a toe hold. That I feel like he likes me right where I am (which is loserville) just like my family because he’s miserable and wants the company. And no matter how much he SAYS he cares, his actions say a whole lot different.  There was more but I think this gets the point across.

I did this shouting at approximately 6:30 am. So I’m sure the landlady loved that. I’m embarrassed but I’m not ashamed like I usually am. I’m tired of him. Granted I get the basic survival support from him. My housing is taken care of. I have food stamps…aka SNAP, so my food is provided.

But the emotional support is practically non-existent. He is an apath and as I mentioned he’s done some things that have sabotaged my recovery. It may not be intentional but it doesn’t matter. It has the same effect.

Each time something comes up, I talk to him, discuss it. He seems to listen to my feelings and what I think. But it doesn’t change anything. And the same sort of thing will take place later.

I have very little energy after the over the top responses to emotional flashbacks. And that’s where the sabotage lies. I can’t think straight enough to take more steps forward to get my own life (back)…if I even ever had a life of my own.

All I feel is anger and exhaustion. I can’t seem to get any momentum forward because as I said each step forward is met with some sort of sabotage and afterward I feel like I’m back to square one.

I become resentful as hell and very angry. It makes it difficult to talk to him, even the most small necessary pieces of info like, “There is chicken on the counter, leave it the fuck alone.”

Lol…I don’t say that, but I want to because I’m so disgusted with this shit happening over and over and over and I can’t fucking leave. And I think that either secretly or subconsciously that is exactly how he wants it.

I mean ffs, I can’t work like this. If I get a job and have an emotional flashback and flip out like I did on B yesterday morning, not only will I feel embarrassed and ashamed, I’ll be right out on my ass.

So before I go working for someone else, I have some physical issues to take care of. And that requires some testing. Well how the fuck do I get testing without money???

Trust me, this is testing that won’t be covered by insurance. Adrenal fatigue is not recognized by the fucked up medical industry. And insurance companies don’t cover things that work.

So there it is. Trapped once again! Well actually STILL trapped.

Oh and as I write we are getting new neighbors in one of the apartments in the building next door. And since I attract assholes and douchebags, how much you wanna bet they will loud and obnoxious. Making my health even worse.


Anger, Cortisol, Adrenals and Trauma

I whole heartedly believe that my adrenal imbalance (?) for lack of a better way to put it at the moment is at the root of every single health issue that concerns me right now, including C-PTSD.

It is also the cause of my so-called personality disorder. It is the cause of me not being able to let go and move on from the abuse. Although I am not minimizing it. I am not saying I should or that I need to forgive them. They don’t deserve any forgiveness, given no one has apologized. They can all go fuck themselves.

What I do want and need though is to move forward with my own life and holding on to the anger is like “drinking the poison myself and expecting the other people (who I’m angry at) to die.”

It doesn’t work like that. As if I have to tell anyone that. But when you’ve been abused and screwed over and manipulated and triangulated and raged at by people who are supposed to have your back, it’s difficult to let go of that anger.

That being said, there is nothing wrong with being angry. Anger is a self protectant to let you know that something isn’t right. Sometimes we jump to the wrong conclusion but I’m not talking about that. I’m talking about the times we are right.

Emotions are a big part of intuition and all emotions are part of what makes humans tick. And many humans don’t like emotions, because if you are hip to what these assholes are up to, which is what your emotions help you realize, then they can’t get away with what they want to do.

My point is, that when our emotions get dowsed by years and years of being led to believe our emotions are wrong, when they are actually right and being treated in ways that indicate that our true emotions aren’t welcome in the presence of the grown ups we depend on, we start to dissociate. We become numb, or we actively set out to numb ourselves with beer, pot and food. (Those are the things I used.) I’m still using food from time to time. But getting better about that too, since I know how to make healthy stuff taste good, as well as understand that more than just vegetables are healthy. (Digressing.)

Eventually though the emotions build up over a period of time  and they need to escape somehow. Either we get sick, as the emotions we were not permitted to feel leak out into our cells. Or we explode in anger at every perceived slight, whether real or not.  Those emotions cannot stay hidden forever. They will make themselves known one way or another. That’s just the way it works. They need a place a go.

I am writing mostly about anger in this particular post but fear is also a factor…as most know and connect the responses of the adrenals with fear. But fear underlies a lot of anger humans feel. I think about a dog who is injured and lashes out, growls or bites. He comes across as angry but it’s more to do with fear than anger. In addition years of living in fear can lead to anger. I would love to hear the opinions of those who lived in fear of their abusive care-takers/parents when they were kids, on this.

When held in and back for decades the emotions cause stress on our organs. And since the adrenals are the organs that handle the cortisol, which is the hormone released when a human is presented with a stressful situation, the adrenals get completely overloaded. if as a child you had to live through gas-lighting, manipulation, triangulation, minimization of emotions & experiences and any other kind of abuse, the adrenals take a beating.

When we are not able to release the anger we feel from being threatened, because showing our own anger will result in even harsher consequences, that shit builds over a lifetime.

I can’t even begin to tell you how many stories I’ve heard from men, who were beaten and/or berated by their fathers as children. And when they were big enough, they finally took an opportunity to turn it around on that abusive father. Most of the time, no violence was even necessary from the son. Just letting his father know that he was big enough now to never take another punch from his bully fuck father, was enough.

But that shit stays. It creates scars that people on the outside can’t see.

I really don’t know how to bring this back to the adrenals in a way that truly flows. And I’m not scientific enough in the way I think to explain how it all works. I just know that stress is connected to the adrenals. I know that cortisol is released when we are threatened and when we are abused we feel threatened.

When we are kids, we usually have to freeze, particularly when the abuser is an adult. If we fight, we are not anywhere close to strong enough and the consequences are worse. And I’m sure that (in my case) if I ran, the consequences would not have been positive. So freeze was the only choice and in fact wasn’t even a choice. It was what my body automatically did. There was no thought involved.

Stress diminished the capacity to think, which is caused by an over-abundance of cortisol being released.  Our bodies are amazing and can survive a lot. But they were not designed to thrive on acts of abuse. The body will simply go into survive mode and as a result we become incapable of so many things we’d otherwise be capable of.

This is why I call abusers thieves.



Because we become more and more exhausted as the years go on when the fight, flight, freeze response becomes chronic. In fact it becomes a response (hyper-vigilant) even when it’s not necessary because the body/adrenals become locked into that response as a result of the repetitive reactions when it WAS necessary.

The abusers who caused this are thieves because, how the fuck are people who live with a cortisol imbalance and PTSD supposed to live a productive life???

That being said though, it is possible. I believe that there is an answer to most if not all problems. It’s finding the answer that can be difficult.

Here’s a decent article about cortisol and it’s connection to “mental” illness.

Quotes are because I don’t believe that the illnesses listed in the DSM are mental. They are very real and all physical. I know it’s not a popular belief, and it’s an uneducated one in the realm of colleges and universities (read, institutions). But that is what I think and believe from what I myself in my own body have experienced and from all the reading I’ve done.

Ok, so here’s the damn article. Lol


In the fourth paragraph the author writes this: “Otherwise, cortisol levels build up in the blood which wreaks havoc on your mind and body.” (Bold mine.)

I believe and think it should say, “…brain and body.”

The mind is a thing, a complicated one to describe and explain at that. But it is not the same thing as your brain.


How to Teach Your Kids to Hate Each Other

Another one I’m re-homing from Safire Falcon. This one was written in November of 2014. It had another title, kind of clunky. This one’s not so great either but that’s what I’m calling it.

I misinterpreted my sister’s tone after the plug from the curling iron fell from the outlet into the sink. We’d both been standing at the bathroom mirror and I was attempting to curl my hair.  I was in my twenties at that point and my family had fairly recently moved into this particular house.

The darkness of depression had already been part of my world, those feelings of being trapped by and in life started a few years before the above scene, when we were living at the house I’d lived in since I was 10. And I was probably in the deepest darkest depths of it at the time of the move.

The move contributed to the added intensity but I was in it already and in deep. At that point I had no idea what I was most likely suffering from was symptoms of complex trauma, and it wasn’t crossing anyone else’s mind either.

The emotional abuse had always had an impact on my life but it was starting to take a bigger toll. And no wonder. I was in my early 20s. I should have been living on my own, or at least settled into a college major. But I was still lost. Not only that, I had begun to have (age-appropriate) intimate relationships a couple years prior. And within those relationships, is where the most intense turmoil shows up.

I was even less aware how the stage had already begun being set for my role as family scapegoat and continued to be .

My sister said, “Careful.”

My first thought was that her comment was condescending and that she was assuming I was a careless sort of person. I replied with a sneer of annoyance and resentment, “The water’s not even running.”

Translation: “No worries little sister, you’re not in danger and how dare you imply that I am so careless. It certainly isn’t my fault the outlet won’t hold the plug.”

That’s not what I said, but the tension between us was thick and the rift deep, by the time this incident happened, something we were both aware of. I was too angry to care though.  For whatever reason, after my nasty reply, her response was a matter of fact tone that carried with it a touch of hurt and confusion.

“I was just thinking about you.” She really did sound sincere.

Instantly I felt like shit…that I’d misinterpreted her intention. The relationship that had once been close was falling apart. But my anger blinded me, filtered out so much of my thoughts and feelings. It was safer to be angry. But it hurt. I hated being angry all the time. If I ever felt lost before this, it was nothing compared to what I was continuing to feel in this part of my adulthood.

I didn’t understand it really and didn’t know the first thing about how to go about fixing it.

My sister had already physically attacked me a few years before that. She had her own impulse control and anger issues.

My misinterpretation existed, it was harmful, but it didn’t exist in a vacuum. The toxicity of my family had grown into an ugly tumor that everyone seemed to prefer to ignore. I was certainly angry about the past, the way my father treated me and even about my mother’s neglect, but at that point in time my anger encompassed many things, even things I was unaware of.

Like being lost with no idea of what I wanted to do with my life. With not feeling settled with a significant other, which really equates to me not being settled within myself. With my father who treated anyone I dated like shit. With my sister for not understanding. With my parents for not helping me out of the darkness, for moving, for not listening to me, for making me feel wrong for every emotion I felt. For thinking that my wanting to resolve present and even past issues was ridiculous and that I should just let it go.

“How often do I need to discuss it? It doesn’t change anything.,” were my father’s words one day when I approached him to talk about something bothering me from my childhood.

My sister’s physical attack on me however, was provoked by some passive remark I had made. But unfortunately I don’t remember what I said. The memory of that crosses with another incident…

Shortly after I’d graduated from high school, my father had won a trip to Cancun for a week from his job, so my parents took that vacation.

My siblings were still in school though and I was informed that it was my responsibility to make sure the other two went to school. The message was that if they didn’t I would be punished.

What that meant now that I was an adult, I didn’t know. I suppose they could still enforce a grounding since I still lived under their roof. But disappointing them was punishment in and of itself, (Failure. Not good enough. Fucked up again) not to mention my father’s seething or booming threatening voice. My cortisol levels would rise just thinking about that.

One night while they were on that vacation,  after my sister had gone to bed…with her boyfriend, I was in the kitchen with my boyfriend and my brother, waiting for some oil to heat up in a pan. I had the ‘bright’ idea of deep frying some frozen pizza bites.

Sitting there yackin’ away, I didn’t realize how hot the oil was getting and the pan began to smoke.  I got up and quickly removed it from the burner.

But it suddenly went up in flames. And all three of us panicked.

My boyfriend, grabbed the pot as I lifted the screen in the kitchen window so he could throw it outside into the yard. When I let go of the screen, it slammed right back down causing the pan to be forced back, splashing hot oil onto his hands and all over the floor.

He kept that pan in his hands while we all panicked trying to figure out what to do with it. Walking it to the front door meant walking it over carpeting that could catch fire.

We went back to the kitchen window and I opened the screen again. This time he flung the pot and it flew successfully outside. I don’t remember how we got the fire out.

We were so lucky the house didn’t go up in flames. The curtains in the kitchen ignited during all the chaos, and I had been able to get them out the window too. And just as my memory is blank on how the fire in the pan was put out, such is the case for the curtains.

I remember during all the commotion, just after the the fire started, that my sister had made a sudden appearance in the kitchen to see what all the noise was about. Thinking about it now, I can imagine the shock and fear she probably felt. She would’ve been around 13.

After his heroic act, I saw my boyfriend’s hands were badly burnt and I got him to come to the kitchen sink, running water as cold as I could get it on his hands. I told him I wanted to take him to the ER but he refused. He couldn’t sleep that night. In pain, he tossed and turned all night.

He was unable to work after the injury while he healed. He was also angry because after telling my parents the story, he felt they should’ve compensated him in some way. And he wasn’t shy about letting me know it. I didn’t know what to think. I told him I’d talk to them about it, but he said not to.

After this horrendous incident, there was oil all over the kitchen floor, so to prevent anyone from slipping, before going to bed that night, I poured salt on top of all the oil.

The next morning I went to work before my siblings were up. I was so depressed about going to work. I worked in a pub/restaurant kitchen and I hated it. My mind always went into dark places while I worked and it would exacerbate my depression. And this day I had the added benefit of anticipating the clean up after I got home from work. I couldn’t even think where I’d begin with it.

When I got home I found my sister in the kitchen, just having finished cleaning up the greasy mess. My work day ended early enough, that if my sister had gone to school, she wouldn’t be home when I got there.

Most people would be thrilled at this whole scenario, little sister staying home to clean up a huge mess that I made, saving me the trouble after eight hours of already shitty work that entailed being on my feet the entire day.  Yeah…but not me. I was pissed AND annoyed that she hadn’t gone to school. I know I was thinking about the disappointment, anger and the possibility of my dad’s rage, toward ME for her not going to school. They would be angry at me for what she didn’t do. This was all I could think about in the moment I saw and knew she hadn’t gone to school.

Never mind the house almost catching fire. Never mind the huge thing sis had just done for me.

I look back on this and cringe and kick myself. I think about how different our relationship might be now if I  had not reacted, not just on this day but many other days in a similar manner.

That day, (although the memory is fuzzy) I’m more than sure that I let her have it, yelling about how mom and dad would be angry at ME for her not going to school.

I raged (from what I now know was fear) and she responded whining,  with something like, “I stayed home to clean up the mess.”

How ashamed I felt. How awful that I did not have room in my heart for gratitude in this situation because all I could think about was my parents reaction of me not being in control of the situation.

I don’t remember if I apologized but even if I had, it would not erase the original response and reaction. Damage done.

The physical attack though, that was a different thing around a different incident but it was also in the kitchen. Again the memory is fuzzy, but there was some exchange of words and likely something passive aggressive from me.

The next thing I knew I was up against the counter, next to the fridge trying to block the claws that were slashing at and toward my face looking at the twisted anger and hurt on my sister’s face.

I swung in an attempt at self-defense, in an arc and missed. I think that I subconsciously missed on purpose. I didn’t want to hurt my baby sister, despite the viciousness I was seeing and feeling from her.

I finally lifted my leg forward and pushed my foot into her gut and flung her away from me. Somehow I was able to get away then and ran up to my room. I was physically and emotionally hurt and scared, but the emotional hurt was much worse.

After having been so close in childhood, we were beginning to hate each other.


I know that my sister’s physical attack didn’t happen with the grease-on-the-floor incident because my mom had been home. She’d been at work or otherwise out and when she got home she’d come up to my room to see me, to see how I was, to talk to me, to see the wounds.

She looked at my face and assured me I wouldn’t be left with scars. The ‘scratch’ that ran down my cheek was only superficial. And in fact it was not an outer scratch. The red mark was under the skin and did indeed fade without a mark.

My mom also delivered my sister’s apology for her and let me know my sister felt really awful about the incident.

[This is very interesting to me now, in regards to the setting up of later triangulations.]

I don’t remember if my sister herself had apologized after I emerged from my room or not.

I feel sad thinking about how the relationship deteriorated between my sister and me. It was gradual but then it was all of a sudden too. We had some years in between when things seemed to get better and we used to sit on my futon and play Mario Brothers for hours. One of my most fond memories is staying home on a snow day and playing Mario Bros all day long.

Emotional Flashbacks

Originally posted on Safire Falcon in May of 2014.

I mentioned emotional flashbacks on my last post.

One night my roommate and I were in the kitchen and all of a sudden I felt triggered by something he said and I reacted. Afterward I felt confused and displaced. In my mind I asked, “What the hell just happened?”

I got my answer a little later when I found this video in my subscription list.

If you want to understand where some of your reactions come from (if you have suffered trauma) watch and listen to this video. This may clear some things up. It did for me.

Awareness Can Be a Long Process

Original post date: May 24, 2014
This is another post originally from Safire Falcon.  It was even longer than what I’ve posted here. The second half includes a POV of co-dependence that I’m not completely sure of now. So I didn’t include it. I may edit and include it later. But for now, no. It’s interesting what you can learn about yourself when you go back to old writings. It can be discouraging too when it looks like there’s been stagnancy or even regression.  I did edit what I’ve posted here a little, but not much. I didn’t make any notes on where I edited either.

Awareness is still coming in like a process. I spent a lot of my life ‘asleep’ so awareness has been a bitter pill. But as bitter as it is, not knowing…not being aware of all the bullshit makes me what I used to call ‘stupidly happy.’

The absence of awareness makes any happy I felt non-existent(?) cancelled out. I was played…whether it was intentional or not. And when I say that, I mean whether the person was self aware of their own sickness or not.

I think of my sister when I say that because she is narcissistic in a big way. And I don’t mean in a healthy way. So although she has abused and hurt me I don’t think she has done it with the intention to set out to hurt me. It has everything to do with her having the need to avoid pain. She is very much about winning her arguments, being right and proving that her issues with me are bigger than anything I may feel. And if it means hurting me to accomplish it then so be it. I then become just a pesky obstacle to overcome, manipulate or push out of the way in such circumstances.

She feels justified in pointing her finger, blaming me and to sound all therapist-y, has no problem using “You” statements rather than “I feel” statements.

When it came to ‘romantic’ relationships, most of the time there was an issue or problem, I would try to rationalize any problem in any relationship to be all me. Even if at first in my anger I would blame the other. I’d be the one hanging her head in shame and guilt after it was pointed out to me how irrational I was being. And then I’d take all responsibility.

And just like the ruminations I’d have about my sister, those situations would come up in my head later and I’d ruminate about what I ‘should’ve’ said. What I’d so wished I’d said. Tense and so angry because this…thing…argument, was never resolved.

I’m sure all that owning up and taking the whole blame and feeling so much shame is a form of denial as well as confusion as to what is theirs and what is mine. Although I was conditioned this way, I still see a form of denial in this. Some of the issues would’ve been deal breakers if I’d had my self-esteem about me. But the denial allowed me to stay. It was better than being lonely and in pain.

I find myself thinking about what my sister might say in certain situations being the narcissist I believe her to be, and what I would say in finally sticking up for myself, no more tail between my legs. As well as still wish I could have redoes in many other situations.

A fellow blogger asked me in a comment recently:

“I can’t honestly say that I would rather be where I was, than where I am now. What do you think and feel about that? Comparatively?”

I made one comment saying that I wonder if my anger will ever go away while in the next comment saying that I don’t feel so angry anymore. Yeah, just a bit contradictory dontcha think?

I had to go back and ask myself about that contradiction. I think the first comment was just me speaking from how I’d been feeling that last week or two. Because to be honest I am not over it. I’m not done and I don’t think it’s that easy. I jumped to a response without really FEELING what my emotions really were/are.

So to comment here now on that question she asked me, I will say that I would much rather be aware than be foolishly in the dark. “Ignorance is bliss,” is a saying we’re all aware of but I don’t believe it’s true. We may THINK we’re blissful without knowing, realizing or understanding that someone is trashing us, lying about us, manipulating us.

But isn’t it a better and more empowering feeling to be able to CHOOSE whether we continue to include such a person in our lives with that kind of information as part of the decision making process?

I certainly think it’s better to know the truth…even if it hurts…to know the reality of what that person is doing…is capable of doing. If such people exist, it’s a matter of keeping yourself safe from them. I mean if someone was treating your child like that wouldn’t you prefer to keep them away from such a nasty human?

There is relief from being away from my family now. Thing is when I feel the relief of being away from them, the anger in moments and days can subside so much I don’t even remember that I’m still going through the anger.

If I’m by myself, alone, minding my own business, enjoying whatever I’m doing, there’s nothing to react to, right?

But mere moments later someone could say something, even if it’s something innocent, not intentionally or maliciously meant to push any buttons, and BAM! There I am getting angry, irritated, annoyed, frustrated and then finally confused. What the hell happened there?

Have you heard of Emotional Flashbacks?

Displaced anger happens within these emotional flashbacks.  I go through different points, where I am able to separate myself more in a way that my anger isn’t being taken out so much in situations where it doesn’t belong. But other times, not so much. And then I’m reminded to be careful not to have such a false sense of security. Meaning, “don’t be telling people I’m over it” when there is no possible way it can happen that fast.

I try to keep in mind that my anger and ruminating at their narcissistic behavior and lack of empathy is not hurting them. It’s not changing them. I’m not sending messages through osmosis about my side of it all and how I was hurt.

Intense anger over those things are only hurting me. Sometimes (not always) I can change the energy of the anger with a thought,  “There is no way I will allow this emotion to eat ME up because YOU are the douche bag who doesn’t give a fuck about me.”

And I continue, “You are not more important than me. I don’t care that you think you are in the right by thinking I am the selfish one. I don’t care that you are so self-righteous that when you say that I’m the one so messed up with my head up my ass, that you are so blind to how fucked up YOU really are. And that you can’t even see yourself when you are pointing that crooked finger at me. Look in the mirror and while you’re at it, look how many fingers point back as you point that one out at me.”

Obviously I DO care otherwise I would not be angry. But…

I take comfort in the fact that I am the one with the awareness. I am the one learning where my actual responsibility lies, not where some disordered other perceives it to be.

It’s those moments that I feel stronger in my anger, rather than out of control. The anger isn’t quite as mixed with fear of them anymore. I’ve had time to step back and see the situation for what it is, and these people for who they are.

That being said, I know there’s probably plenty more that I’m not seeing, that is still shrouded. But as I’ve said previously, it’s a process. Even if I had come from a healthy background life would still be a learning process, right?

I now have though the space to think about what I can do to take care of myself if I ever find myself in their presence again. Anxiety certainly creeps in there too, when I think about this. But some days/moments there’s a determination at the same time that comes out of the anger.

Disappointment is also part of the equation. The absence of a family foundation is very disappointing, especially when I’ve been walking around blind to my actual role in the dynamic. However it clears up a lot of the mind-fuck, head spinning confusion I was dealing with. Knowing the truth, SEEING the truth clicks on a bright light bulb in my head.

It sucks yeah. But there’s the reality, which has clarified so much of that disarray. It’s been one long continuous sigh of relief, that can also cause forgetfulness of how I once felt and even how I still feel at certain moments.

It’s always more productive to work within reality and know what you’re dealing with than to continue spinning wheels in fantasy.

Anxiety is a nasty part of the equation to which is something I’ve not always been aware of, thinking it wasn’t a problem for me. But that was wrong. Again, it’s something I was just unaware of, despite being able to look back and see my behaviors that indicated it and situations that brought it out of me.

I cannot change my own past behaviors and go back and ‘fight back’, letting them all know they cannot and will not walk all over me. I do resent myself, in that if I’d insisted on the respect, stuck up for myself, I would’ve felt so much better about myself, therefore manifesting that outward in my treatment of others, choices I made and even the intensity of the emotions I felt.

But I think that being said, I could get into a chicken and egg kind of cycle. I was groomed, ‘beaten down’ with abuse as a small child, into adolescence. My brain was forming all kinds of things at that time. It normalized things that shouldn’t be. It formed pathways to lack of self confidence and I was stripped of self esteem. My brain took to a shape that gave me the beliefs of not being good enough, worthy and that everything about me is wrong.

Over the last decade I have slowly become more mindful of my treatment of others. There were times I have been snotty and even nasty believing that if I show my displeasure I could get what I needed, whatever that was and whatever the situation called for. I was being narcissistic. And I could feel the chaos in my mind, the agitation, the impatience toward myself as well as the other.

I find that my anger is more toward myself than toward them in those situations and I’ve done lots of misdirecting. Something I catch myself at and apologize for, when I do.

That behavior may also come from the dissatisfaction I’ve felt about my life. I believe this is also a result of childhood trauma. Making clear and concise decisions about my direction in life and my future, were severely impaired.

I did not have someone who steered me in any sort of direction. I had no one to reel in the reins and I was neglected in many ways. I played alone a lot as a child, I remember. In high school my parents were completely uninvolved in what I was doing in school. And I was able to get away with dating a man 7 years older than me when I was 13 and then when I was 16, I ‘dated’ a man the same age as my own mother.

I wouldn’t call that dating, but used the word for the sake of simplicity.

At 18 I began to binge drink and worked only part time. College was discouraging for the short time I attended because as I said, I had no direction and had NO idea what I wanted to do with my life. So at that time I saw no reason to stay in school. And I had no parent speak to me about this decision. I had no support and I was left to feel my own way through despite not having been prepared to do so.

It all led to a chronic anger because I was not able to express a healthy anger. And by the time I’d reached young adulthood, I certainly didn’t even know that’s what I was feeling to induce such behavior. In fact I didn’t even know when to be angry sometimes. For example, I wasn’t hip to when someone was being disrespectful. Boundaries weren’t exactly something shown to me, given me or taught that I even had the right to.

Anger doesn’t feel good, especially when it’s chronic. Chronic embedded anger is different I think than healthy anger. Chronic anger seeps into every part of your life. It destroys relationships, it diminishes chances at having healthy relationships, including with the self. It eats away at the body and brain. It keeps blame right on top, even if it’s justified blame. Chronic anger keeps one in a state of not being able to move forward, feeling that someone else needs to make up for it. An apology is owed. Closure cannot be found from within.

But unfortunately, people like narcissists or other disordered individuals won’t come forth with apologies and validation. So working through it alone is a must if I want to move forward, despite the difficult.

Validation and acknowledgement and even approval is a healthy human need. But the need for those things can run over to the point of becoming pathological, meaning it creates codependence and people pleasing.This can obviously become detrimental and put a codependent in dangerous situations.

This happened to me. My family situation and their treatment of me while my father was dying is a perfect example of how detrimental it can be. I cared more about how they felt in general and what they thought of me more than I did about my own feelings pertaining to the situation.

Grog and Empty

Grog: The feeling I have when I wake up after a bad day before. It’s like a hangover. I guess it is a hangover.

Empty: The feeling I have when I wake up from a dream about an ex significant other.  I hate those dreams. On this side of the dream life, I don’t even want to see them. I’m sure my psyche has so much to work out with them. So much undone there, with all of them.

The dream I just had was with Tim. We were in his room (the one he had when he lived with his mother). We were hanging around in his bed and I was laying across him.

He was rubbing me, then softly pinched my inner thigh. (Still I was trusting.) Then suddenly he poked me in the anus, hard and laughed.  (Not something he ever did in real life.)

I got pissed off, jumped up and said, “I’m leaving. I’m not putting up with this.”  When I started to get dressed, I wrestled with my bra a little bit but after that it went pretty quickly.

I wanted him to stop me though. I wanted him to say he was sorry, while at the same time I wanted the strength to just walk down the steps and out the door. But even in my dream that didn’t happen.

While he was in the bathroom, I found a brush on the floor and used it on my hair, even though I had one in my bag.

When he got back from the bathroom we ended up at the door together and I’m the one who initiated the hug we gave each other. And then we started kissing.

I got turned on then and wanted to stay but didn’t want to be the one who initiated that. So I just continued to lean against him while he leaned against the wall he had his back to.

Just like in real life. I get treated like shit but accept it by continuing in the same situation.

Stuck Fucked Lost Broke

I start to make some progress, something happens to knock me back down.

Every fucking time,

I get back up and get back in the fight.

But why does it always have to be a fight?

It’s always been a fight.

I can’t seem to get enough ahead to gain any momentum.

So when the rug is pulled, the steps backward are much more than they were ahead.

I follow the rules but then the rules change. And I’m left spinning and pissed off.

I’m so broke.

Money broke, spiritually broke, mentally broke.

I can’t take it anymore.

I want to give up.