Thoughts While Making Breakfast

After shoving a spoonful of oatmeal in my mouth for a taste test, I thought, “Mmm, tastes like…home.”

The hesitation… see that?

Yeah, she made oatmeal. But mine’s better. And I still don’t feel like I’m at home.

Fantasy. Wonder if I’ll ever feel like I’m home…before I die that is.

I imagined the landlady getting nosy and asking me about my family. She never has. Thankfully. I wonder often what I would say if she asked. I’ve played with the idea of telling her they all died in a plane crash but I always have second thoughts about that.

Not that I’d tell Nasty the truth. She wouldn’t get that much vulnerability from me. No fucking way.

It’s funny how fast thoughts occur because simultaneously, right after feeling like the oatmeal tasted like home, I said to myself, “I used to think there was love there.” Immediately following came, “Yeah but i was fooled.”

“Fake love.”

“Remember that show, ‘Big Love?”

“Well my family could’ve had a show called , ‘Fake Love.'”


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.

Diary Card is a Trigger: Having an Emotional Flashback (or Five)

I’m not in a good place right now. I’m having an emotional flashback about this stupid diary card. I feel like a little fucken kid right now as a result and really sensitive.

I remember as a kid in school I would be feeling vulnerable for something like not doing my homework (just as an example) and this would make me afraid, especially when it came to certain teachers. Specifically my first grade nun was abusive when I didn’t get the homework done or even do it right.

So if I was already vulnerable I would be sensitive to just about anything adverse so I would cry easily.

Once I’d forgotten my homework in 7th or 8th grade and (guessing because memory) called my mother and asked her to bring it up to me. She did and when she got there, I saw her at the door of the classroom.

I shot up out of my desk, both embarrassed and relieved to see her there. When I got to the door, I nudged her into the hallway and the tears just flowed.

One year, just being back after the summer, the teacher gave the assignment to write out the multiplication tables. We were only supposed to got to 12 on each number but I kept going, not remembering this from the previous year. And I felt so overwhelmed and don’t even remember now how far I went with each one. It must’ve taken me hours that night to finish that assignment.

I didn’t go to my parents, because I didn’t know if my mom would send me to my father. He was the last one I needed or wanted helping me.

Now for some reason this diary card is sending me back to that assignment and just endlessly writing the times tables and then finding out when I got back to school the next day that I made it even difficult than I had to because I didn’t remember from the previous year, what to do.

So I’m sitting here in tears and I guess I’m supposed to record this shit in that itty bitty box with no fucking room!

Emotional Flashback Before Therapy

I’ve started seeing a new therapist. Yesterday was my second appointment.

I got there early enough to hang out in my car for a bit, so when I went in I still had about five minutes to wait. My appointment was at noon.

After sitting there for what felt like longer than five minutes though, I started to feel anxious. But I’d turned off my phone so I didn’t know exactly what time it was. I decided to turn it back on.

It was 12:02. Tick tock. More anxiety. Why was the door still shut?

One therapist opened her door and I could hear the joyful voice of a client talking to her about some event in her family. Then the family shuffled out.

About a minute after that, another therapist’s door opened and another client came walking through, joyfully shouting back to her, some pleasantry.

Still my therapist’s door remained closed.

She was running five minutes late by this point and I’d started to cry. The other two therapists had already seen me, looked at me in passing and one gave me that smile that always makes me feel like a pathetic little waif.

The anxiety grew and the tears were coming. I looked to my left, toward the wall, in case anyone were to walk by again. I was embarrassed to be crying.

Then I got up and went into the bathroom where I could just let the tears flow.

When I was young, and depended on my mother to pick me up from some activity, I would sit and wait for her while I watched all the other kids get picked up. I would be the one remaining child..waiting. Wondering when she’d show up…if she’d show up.

Feeling completely forgotten.

This is what came up for me yesterday. This is exactly how I’d felt yesterday while waiting for a very short time for my therapist.

When I got myself into the bathroom and began to cry even harder, it triggered another memory.

When I was in 7th grade, I had forgotten a paper at home for my English class. And somehow I’d gotten the word out to my mother and asked her to bring it up to me. She hadn’t been working at the time, so she did.

When I saw her at the door, I shot up out of my seat and went to her. I sort of pushed her out the door (although not forcefully). It was more of a long nudge, leading her backwards back out into the hallway.

I shut the door to the classroom and as I was thanking her, uncontrollably the tears flowed.

It was a release of the relief that I didn’t have to be anxious about not having the paper anymore. It was a release of relief that my mom cared.

Back to present day and the bathroom I was in: I knew the therapist would probably be ready soon so I pulled myself together as much as I could and walked out of the bathroom.

Just as I opened the door, the therapist was walking by…probably from the other bathroom.

I’d left early to run a couple errands before therapy and had thought about a certain Christmas past when I was 13. I think it came up for me because I had used some scented chapstick. Smells are guaranteed time travel.

I remembered the school Christmas bazaar that year. I remember the Pepsi lip gloss my mother put in my stocking that year. And then I remembered how much fun the stocking stuffers always were. And I could feel the sadness as I crossed a large intersection yesterday.

So I was already primed even before arriving at therapy.

I Need to Be Fixed

We’re fighting fleas again and still.

I’m feeling trapped as I’ve felt most of my life.

The fleas and smell of the landlady’s heavy cigarette smoking habit

are triggers for the way I’m feeling

Triggers, they make it next to impossible to get a foothold.

But I’ve always felt trapped.

Trapped in my life

Trapped with my family

Now trapped in this hole of an apartment.

Even trapped with Mr. B.

Trapped in my body

Trapped in my mind

Today I did it again.

I felt unheard and was already overwhelmed

The fleas and mix-up in communication

A common occurrence between Mr. B and me.

I feel unheard and

I wound up in yet another tantrum/meltdown.

Not as bad as the one before, but still

It happened.

I’m angry. I feel helpless and hopeless.

I slammed a bunch of stuff

Resulting in more yelling, scaring the cat just with the volume.

Threw a spray bottle and it spilled all over the carpet

and I did not give any fucks.

I picked up the bottle and left the puddle in the rug.

Found the spray bottle nozzle broken.

The closeness of the two events does not escape me.

I want to stop but I truly feel I can’t control it.

I become Hyde with no warning.

I don’t want to live like this anymore.

I need help…REAL help

Not the bullshit therapists who claim to know but don’t

But it’s not FOR me.

I’m too poor

I’m not in the right place.

I’m not lucky enough

I would give up every single material belonging

to be rid of this.

I research and find others getting well,

Others are healing

With cutting edge shit

But do I have access


I don’t begrudge anyone for having this happen for them. But I do begrudge that it isn’t readily and easily available to others who NEED it years ago!

The next and only clinical study I’ve found that will happen next is in England.

The two previously happened right here in the U.S… but as usual I am a few years late and many dollars short.

Story of my miserable fuckin’ life.

And if it gets approved after this next study, legalization will take effect by 2021!!!!

I don’t know about you, but I’d like to find myself out of hell before that.

Oh and let’s not forget that even when it’s legal you’ll need access to a therapist who not only uses it but knows HOW to.

Sorry but I just don’t have that much faith in the world of therapy at large.

It’s up to me and leaving the planet is looking better and better every day.

I won’t be doing anything though. No plan. I will stay alive, even though I feel dead inside.

But I’m not going to be here on wordpress for at least the rest of the day.

I need a solution. I’m not sure blogging is it…I’m not sure of anything except the fact shit needs to change.

Emotional Flashbacks Out of An Old TV Series and Faded Sunlight

treesun1The way the sun…I think it was the sun, created a section of lighter pink on the hallway carpet. It didn’t even look like the sun was in a place to beam in that way. The appearance, the angle, the way it was shaded in a smoky sort of way, all captured something that remains in my subconscious.

I immediately felt the sadness of grief, the moment I noticed it. In my desire to know what this was while walking back and forth, I’d look for a bit then look away. Go do something else, look again and look away. The grief felt more intense with each time I glanced at the faded light. And I wanted to know what it was about and where it was coming from.

My paternal grandmother’s house came to mind and maybe in her house, there was a time of day and a window in her house that allowed the sun to shine on one of her rugs in a similar way. But I don’t know if that’s true.

I just know I thought of her house. And when I think of her house, I think of her, and the most prominent memory I have of her is a small event that happened often.

In the dining room, next to the doorway that led immediately to the kitchen, I can see myself standing there. I’m a small child and my grandmother is a tall and thin woman. She is holding a freshly opened box of cookies and bending just a little so I can see inside the box, to make my choice.

Back in the present moment, I opened the front door to take a look for our cat. But the only cat out there was the neighbor’s round tabby, napping on the porch.I said hi and then told him he wasn’t the one I was looking for. I asked if he’d seen his best friend. (Our cat, Ozzy.) Right after that, I couldn’t get the theme song from “The Courtship of Eddie’s Father” out of my head.

Depressed Kid In America

kid depressedI’m compiling lists of music on YouTube because I’d like to listen straight through while doing things and not stop to switch the video. The reason behind that though, is that I want to use the music as a tool for feeling. Music is one thing that will really get in deep, chip away until the tears come. It causes flash backs while bringing up feelings that I know I need to feel.

I’ve been numb too long. I’ve avoided all the shit I need to peel away and shed.

I was a teen in the 80s so I’m choosing a lot of that music, at least right now. I like a lot of other music too, and although other music brings up emotions too of other things, it’s the memories of the 80’s I’m after in that list.

One video I specifically looked up is “Kids in America” by Kim Wilde because I was a kid (at 15/16) when the song was released and it was being played on every pop station, probably around the nation.

The song “Kids in America” takes me back to my teen years, in good ways as much as sad.  But while watching the video and looking at the singer’s face, I was taken back to when I was 19. I think it’s because she was close to that age in the video. I was more than a year out of high school and going nowhere. And I continued to go nowhere all the way up to this day.

I looked at Kim Wilde’s face and compared myself to her. How she was doing something, creating something, putting something out there to be remembered.  And at that age I wasn’t even driving myself to the job I hated. I was walking several blocks to meet my ride.  I was smoking pot at every opportunity, including sometimes on that ride to work. I was living day to day to find some sort of escape from the depression that had taken such a tight hold by then and continues to this day.

It saddens me so much the potential lost as a result of no guidance in direction by the adults in my life at that time.

The most relatable line for me sadly:
“You know life is cruel, life is never kind.”