Catching Up With Myself: A Short Bio

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I have been struggling, the last few days, whether to continue writing my story or not. I almost voted for “not” but have somewhat changed my mind.

I won’t go into the reasons here. There are too many other details. Just that I would also like to do something with two other blogs I started as well. So in doing that, some editing, rearranging and changing is needed.

Edit Friday 10/27/17: At this point I don’t remember the details I refer to. I guess it doesn’t really matter. What matters is now and what’s going on for me. This is marked private right now but I’m putting back on public so I feel the need to edit and add some stuff.

The other day in therapy, it came to light that I am in a crisis. I am still very much going through a lot of the shit that is trauma and PTSD. So this explains a lot of the struggle I have with organizing my thoughts and going back and forth to the fence. Wanting to start other blogs to reorganize and to blog about other topics. I know that I still want that. And it will come eventually. It’s overwhelming because I’ve started many others also on what I wanted to be spin off topics…which are in the realm of healing. The things I want to refer to in my healing are online and so I need to have a place to hold onto them other than book marks because that is not organized at all. And if I lose the lap top then the book marks are gone.  I procrastinate though. All part of trauma. Eventually these kinds of posts, the ones that refer to my ambiguity on writing on this topic and wanting to blog about other things on other blogs ends. The fact that I fight myself so much is also telling. Self-doubt.  

One change is that I’m posting my long hidden ABOUT page here…as a post.

Below you’ll find what I wrote for the ABOUT page:

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I am a “middle-aged” (if I live to be 100), single woman, with what I now know to be Complex Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.  Also diagnosed with Borderline Personality Disorder, GAD and major depression. Those came from one therapist and another therapist dx’d me with dysthemia.

I am dependent on a man who is a slave to his job. If not for him I would be homeless.

Healthy relationships have always eluded me. (In reality I know it is I that has eluded them.) This is part of my emotional issues, which resulted from a toxic environment as I grew up.

I became aware of difficulties with my emotions when I was 18 while in a relationship with my first age appropriate boyfriend. I have been in and out of therapy since I was twenty and hospitalized twice for depression in my early and mid-twenties. I had taken a variety of anti-depressants at different times, none of which worked for very long, if at all.

I have never attempted suicide but have felt that death would be better than life in my deepest, darkest, depths of depression. I have used alcohol, pot, sex and the company of others, as coping and escape mechanisms. I also used to sit in my bedroom in times of intense distress, writing or watching TV and chain smoking cigarettes.

Back then…in my 20s and even through my 30s, I was led to believe what I had was depression and nothing more. Not to belittle depression as a diagnosis. Not at all. Because I know the darkness, depression involves. There’s nothing small about it and not only a dark place, but also a scary and lonely place to be.

But the reality was  that it was (and remains) depression plus…Plus post traumatic stress disorder.Plus borderline symptoms. Plus anxiety.

I was already showing many symptoms, but there was no one to inform me of this, let alone to help me heal from it. Now that I know what I know, I feel as though I slipped through the cracks when I was young.

When the symptoms began to really surface in my late teens and early 20s and I was realizing something was seriously wrong, I began to distance myself from my family in general, which included my sister in particular.

Little did I know the chasm that was already there, because I just did not have the deep awareness of what was going on. The toxic dynamic of my family was my normal, although I also knew it wasn’t normal…or more accurately, I knew it wasn’t healthy…despite not always having the words to express that knowledge or the ability to put my finger on it.

I knew because of the way I felt much of the time around my family and particularly my father, because of his immature behavior and unpredictable moods. My father is the main culprit in causing my emotional issues and was the one whom we all walked on egg shells around as we kids grew up. There is so much more to tell here but much of it deserves and even requires their own posts. Lest this one be so much longer than it already is.

So for now, let me get back to my sister. She and I were close when we were young children, although we were almost six years apart. (I am the oldest of three, with a brother in the middle.) Once the depression and anger hit me, my sister and I grew apart quickly.

Looking back now, I realize the depression and other symptoms had manifested themselves in other ways long before I was even aware of what depression really is and I certainly never even entertained the possible diagnosis of PTSD, since I had no idea that you could acquire that via abuse and being bullied at home, school and in your own neighborhood.

Lots of kids went through being teased, bullied and even beat up. It was just part of some children’s childhoods…it’s just the way it was. And you grew up, went on with your life, made a living and you just grew out of all that shit. Besides, I figured, so many kids had it worse than I did

That’s how I thought about it and when that didn’t happen for me, I blamed myself for not being able to be as tough as some other kids. Why couldn’t I just suck it up and stop feeling like I was trapped, like I didn’t belong (or fit in) anywhere and like I stuck out like a sore thumb?

When I started therapy back in those early days of my late teens and early 20s, and spent time in the hospital, I don’t even remember being told of a diagnosis. I remember hearing and using the word ‘depression’ and I remember getting and filling prescriptions for pharmaceuticals for it.

I do know and remember though, that when all the symptoms began and while I was in therapy and in the hospital, I never heard the words ‘post traumatic stress’ in context with my diagnosis or me at all. I didn’t hear those words until I started therapy after a particularly nasty break up in 2011/2012 with someone I would call an over-lapper.

An over-lapper though, is someone who needs to hook another person into a relationship with them before they can leave the one they are currently in. (I’ve been one myself too by the way.)

I admit it was an affair, since he was still married. But according to him things were bad and he was planning to divorce. That’s a story worth it’s own blog, (not post… blog) but I will perhaps go into it here, because having extra-marital affairs, (although something that is very much judged, tends to turn into a ‘burning at the stake’ and only blamed on the woman, which is utter bullshit) is a symptom of some real emotional issues and a toxic background.

Understand though, that I am not justifying it. I had a tough time with it. I fought with myself all the time. He may have been a narcissist. He was certainly narcissistic and I think, after reading about it in In Sheep’s Clothing I think he is also what Dr. George Simon refers to as a “Covert Aggressor.”

In addition, I was seriously addicted to him. It truly was a chemical addiction. If you’ve never heard of this, you can find out more in a book called, How to Break Your Addiction to a Person.

A probable cause for this and my very real arrested development, is that my direction in how to do life was non-existent when it was needed…in childhood, adolescence and my young adulthood.

I never finished college. I’ve gone to trade school at three different times for three different things and graduated, but then didn’t do much with those diplomas. I have had a series of jobs, none of which I’ve ever felt settled in.

Even as a pet-sitter I was miserable, especially during the busy times of year, like the Winter holidays and certain times during the summer. I would find myself so run-down from so much work, it would cause fatigue and a major depression.

So to call myself by a job title and actually identify with it, nothing has ever really resonated.

Unfortunately, I have always thought of and grew up believing that a person’s job/career is a major part of identity. So that’s been really difficult for me and moving around from job to job has made me feel as though I was always trying to find myself.

Speaking of identity, I don’t really know who I am. And since I grew up feeling like someone’s career is a big part of identity, I’ve been lost for all of my adult life.  So in addition, being so emotionally abused by my father as a child and emotionally neglected by both parents, I never had a chance to form much of an identity.

The dynamic in my family and the toxicity it bred, along with my temperament, set me up to be the scapegoat of the family. I’m not sure which one of my siblings is the golden child. My brother is pretty admired by my mother (last I knew) for his accomplishments, but as kids my brother and I used to actually joke that my sister was the favorite of my mother.

My father became ill about a year after the end of the aforementioned affair and I still wasn’t fully recovered from the break up. I was apprehensive about getting involved in helping out with my father’s care because of some fairly recent blow ups and blow outs as a result of an email I sent to each of my family members.  So I had fears of being around my siblings, figuring certain things would be brought up and used against me.  I also felt uncomfortable about being around my father in such an intimate manner as the email was about his past behavior and my feelings about that. (I also mention this in the ABOUT page in this blog. (To be posted)

I knew there would be a humongous elephant in my father’s apartment whenever I was around.

Having no car at the time, I tried to manipulate my way out of it with silence. But then their manipulations and guilt trips began along with the same ultimatum from three family members: mother, sister, brother.

I eventually did give in to their manipulations and the situation was a nightmare, becoming a secondary trauma. And I am still struggling with the trauma their behavior caused me. It’s frustrating.

I have already talked about this and I am sorry to repeat it. This is something I originally wrote on March 17, 2016.

It’s so sad to think that my parents, my family didn’t like me. Perhaps didn’t love me either despite my being told they do/did.

It’s difficult to accept. Since it keeps coming up and I still think about it, still get angry about it, I know I have not fully accepted it. I can actually physically feel the block sometimes to the acceptance of it. Actions do speak much louder than any words. People who love you don’t repeatedly abuse, hurt, manipulate, triangulate and gaslight you. They just don’t.

But when you grow up being slammed with messages that you’re less than, that you’re not worthy of being loved and you’re not all that intelligent, you grow up to think something is wrong with you, that you deserve all that adverse treatment. At least I believed it.

There’s no self love and I don’t think I’ve ever really even liked myself.

Here’s the link to my About page.

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Trapped

trapped by drowningI hope others had a better holiday season than I did. I’ve been miserable and feel so fuckin’ trapped I can’t stand myself. In addition I’ve been so angry at Mr. B as well.

Mr. B (in case I haven’t explained things properly) is a man who I’m dependent on. Yup I said it. I’m a damn loser. When we first moved in here together, I had a full time job. But I left it because it was toxic.

After a couple months I started working for a pet sitting company, another job I wasn’t happy in and was actually taken advantage of by my boss and sexually harassed by her pig husband.  I felt trapped in that job after that happened and it took me a few months to finally decide to tell her what he’d done. She didn’t believed me, but I was no longer trapped in that job.

I have felt trapped in pretty much every job I’ve ever had because I never enjoyed any of them. And I believe that much of that had to do with what was going on within me more that it had to do with the job.

After I simultaneously quit and was let go over the phone with my now ex boss, I set out to find something else I could do and in between, worked for another pet sitting company.  I later found out they were doing something I feel was unethical.

When I first started with them, we agreed on an hourly rate. I would call in at the beginning of the day so they knew when I started and again at the end of the day so they knew when I was finished. I’m guessing this was so they could build trust because I also had a time sheet that I wrote my hours on.

After about a week, one of the owners asked me why it was taking me so long to finish my day. I was confused. I said that my timing was actually pretty good and explained to her that I was staying a half hour for each visit and my drive time was about ten minutes between each stop.  It was then I was ‘enlightened’ to the way they did things.

“No no no. Each visit should only be 20 minutes and then it should take you 10 minutes to get the next client’s house.”

In the business owners’ minds, the visit added up to a half hour for the sitter because they were counting drive time…which in most cases didn’t take longer than 10 minutes. This way, since they were paying by the hour, they could cut costs. It’s just my guess though, that in doing it this way, it kept their payroll down.

They were lying to their clients. But as I indicate before, I did not know this going in.

People leave 9 to 5s and the rat race to pet sit and dog walk because it’s supposed to be a more relaxing way to make a living.  I was not only disappointed because it meant less pay for me, but also more hurrying at each client’s house, making the job more stressful.

My previous boss sucked in some ways as I’ve illustrated one big one. But when I went out and about my day, she left me to it. I didn’t have to call her when I started or when I finished. I kept track of everything on a sheet she’d email me and drop it off to her and leave it in a big ol’ flower pot outside her house.  Since she paid me by the visit, I didn’t have to worry about the time, although I was pretty consistent most of the time with keeping on schedule. But if something happened that made it necessary for me to take longer at a client’s house (things like needing to clean up vomit or diarrhea, or comfort a spooked dog, tend to a wound) I didn’t have to stress about taking ‘too long.’ I’d simply tell her what happened and that was that. It was no skin off her wallet anyway.

Being rushed in this way by the second pet sitting company wasn’t comfortable for me. I had gotten quite comfortable in the way the previous boss had done things and in fact it was a much more ethical and honest way as well as allowed for the sitter/walker to relax on the job much more.

I have gotten off topic somewhat. Having to have a job though has always made me feel trapped because I never liked any of them. But yes, I have a habit of rambling off topic because I free associate.

What I want to say is that I’ve gotten myself into a situation where I’m absolutely miserable despite the kindness of the man I live with.

There’s some resentment because there’s no sense of partnership. But then, that’s my own fault isn’t it? Looking for or pushing for some partner type situation when it’s just not available from where I’m trying to get it from.

At this point, now that I know I have C-PTSD, I understand a lot more and I’ve spent time talking to him about it as well. But it seems he forgets. Certainly nothing changes.

The biggest problem lately has been actions that cause hyper-vigilance. And when this happens, I feel like I’ve been sabotaged. Like it’s done on purpose. And I don’t understand after having explained and talked to him over and over about PTSD and what the symptoms are and even reacting to things he’s done, he still.does.not.get.it.

And I don’t get how he doesn’t get it.

He claims he forgets. He claims he doesn’t think about it, he says he’s not doing it deliberately. But to me it translates as, “If this is happening because he forgets, he must not care that much.”

I’ve asked him at least three times to read about it. But he hasn’t.

And I am tired of who I am around him now too, because what I’m talking about above is,  he’s done or said something to trigger me, I rage (he can’t get a word in to defend himself) and after I’m done, he acts ashamed. Then I feel like shit. Even if I don’t rage and speak angrily, (like tonight) I still feel like shit.

I feel sabotaged from any progress and it feels worse than if some stranger did it in public because that stranger doesn’t know. I get sick of going into a room feeling calm and walking out of it with heart palpitations, exhausted, angry, stressed out so bad I want to get in my car, drive away and NEVER come back here.

Tonight I was writing out a plan for myself in a journal, organizing my thoughts, which has been difficult for the last I don’t know how many years.  Things I want to do, things that need doing. I’m waiting for SS (disability) but with no income, things are tough. So I want to start doing things to take care of myself physically and emotionally as well as start something that could lead to an income. And at the very least get myself well enough to get some kind of job.

Right now, if it wasn’t for Mr. B, I’d be homeless. This is a dangerous, tightrope without a net kind of situation which just adds to the stress and hyper-vigilance as well.

I had a plan to get right back to my journal/planning and organizing my thoughts right after making a smoothie. But it turns out to be a break I should not have taken. Instead I’m writing this post instead of continuing with what I’d started earlier, because the anger just saps my focus and concentration.  Keep reading to find out what took place in the kitchen.

When I have a set back, I feel much of the time it’s caused by Mr. B (as far as PTSD symptoms are concerned).

I feel like I take 10 steps back when his actions effect me in such a way I become startled and it activates the hyper-vigilance…after I’ve maybe taken a step forward. At this rate, with this dynamic, how can I heal?

I hate to blame. I’ve been really conscious of not doing that and have been working on taking responsibility. My having PTSD is by no means his fault. But our dynamic has become so toxic, it is contributing to keeping me ill.

Last week, I avoided him in the evening in the kitchen and was out and cleaned up even before he got home. This was the decision based on a blow up the weekend before.

This weekend, I stayed holed up in my room for the most part. But then we had it out over a repeated conversation, a slight change of plan on his part and no communication. The no communication thing has been a problem since I can remember and a big trigger for me. It’s what’s caused a lot of distance between us for a long time.

Tonight, things felt a bit more relaxed. He was home early, in the kitchen making himself something to eat and I went down to make a smoothie. I do dishes as I go, when I prep stuff to eat, and there was also a glass container he put in the sink to soak. It had had oatmeal in it that we were trying to decide if it was still good or not. Things were light. It felt good. He decided the oatmeal was fine and put it all in a pot to cook and eat as part of his dinner.

Then I went to pick up the glass container soaking, in order to wash it. Jokingly, he said in urgency, “Don’t touch it!”

Now if you don’t have PTSD, or if you’re not hyper-vigilant, this can be funny and there was a time I would have thought absolutely nothing of this, laughed about what he’d done and move on. However, a lot of the symptoms I have now are either more intense or new because of relatively recent events that has triggered the trauma from childhood even more.

So this was not funny to me. At first, I jumped a little and I just simply didn’t laugh. I was hoping to be able to leave it alone, keep my mouth shut about it, make my smoothie and get out of the kitchen. But I could feel the anger building. He’d done this as a joke on Christmas morning too. I had walked down to the kitchen and he was doing dishes. I knocked on the door jam so he knew I was there and so as not to startle him. This has happened more than once and when he’s startled it effects me too, making me jump. After I’d already started talking to him about what I went down there for, he decided to be funny and he said, “Oh I forgot…” and then jumped and acted startled.

I jumped out of my skin. It startled the hell out of me. I threw a bottle cap across the kitchen I’d been holding and screamed WTF? Then turned and went up to my room. Slammed the door to release the anger and sat on the floor and did some deep breathing.

So tonight, him doing this so soon after Christmas and my hyper-vigilant reaction to something similar, I couldn’t hold back. I didn’t rage, but I was angry and it was in my voice. I again, went through why this effects me, how it effects me, why I’m pissed off…AGAIN.

I am at a loss.  I’ve asked him to read about it. Tonight I mentioned finding an online support group for people who live with people with PTSD. But I don’t hold out much hope.  The only thing I can come up with in order to minimize this bullshit, is to get in and out of the kitchen before he gets home. I will have to figure something else out on the weekends.

Our timing has never been good, out of step and out of synch and it’s not getting any better. If I don’t want to be in the same room with him, it is likely I will have to actually ask him to leave or to let me know when he’s finished. I’m seriously sick of taking the chance of making myself worse in this situation.

If he isn’t doing this deliberately, this is a man who doesn’t listen, doesn’t learn from mistakes and definitely doesn’t get it. I can’t force him to read about it. I can’t make him join a support group. I can merely suggest and then he’s on his own. However, he’s made some things pretty clear already.

I think indirectly in some ways, maybe I’m struggling to get closer or wishing he was someone I could get closer to, in the midst of all this chaos. I need support and he just stays static. It’s like he’s there to use as a life preserver (an inanimate object) but he isn’t actively reaching out to help in any way.

It would be nice to have someone “push” me out the door to take a walk. Someone to make us dinner once in awhile. I’m not difficult to please, a simple spaghetti dinner and sauce from a jar is enough for me.  (This is something I long for even without PTSD.) I have given up trying to cook for the two of us. Not that he didn’t appreciate it, but I just feel like I’m struggling to help myself. If it works out at times and there are leftovers, like in the case of cooking a pot of rice or pasta, then fine. But I don’t have the organization and my motivation isn’t consistent to make meals for the two of us every night now.

Someone who initiates communication about different things and doesn’t just assume I would know. Someone who likes to light the fireplace. We have one and it hasn’t been touched in all the years we’ve lived here.

Someone who ‘gets me.’I find myself having to explain my trains of thought and jokes to him. So irritating. In all the years we’ve lived together, I feel like he doesn’t know me.

Even someone who knows what I need even before I do sometimes. After living together for 12 years, this is not so far fetched. I know couples like this. Oh but, that’s right, we’re not a couple.

I feel like if he could help me through this, give me the support I so desperately need and STOP sabotaging me, I could heal enough to start helping him financially again.

Thing is, I’m so sick of being trapped here, I would leave if I could.

Daily Details Including Heart Palpitations + Link and Video for Childhood Trauma

Not my image and I don’t have a link. Sorry.

I did nothing toward the logistic progress of any book yesterday.

I have some things listed on eBay and something sold so I packaged that up.  That task seems to still take me longer than I’d like. But I was more efficient about it than I’d been in the past. Maybe breaking it up into chunks was helpful for me. PTSD can really do a number on focus and organizing.

I made sure to not get too anxious about doing it right away. Just because an order comes in doesn’t mean you can’t eat first if you’re hungry. So that’s what I did. In between I got some laundry going too, since I had to go to the basement to get the big box of bubble wrap anyway.

During the actual bubble wrapping and boxing the items, I listened to a video on Self healing trauma. I’ll link it below. The guy has a website too so I’ll link that as well.


My meals were on the healthy side: A smoothie for breakfast; a salad with chicken and the ranch dressing I made yesterday from cashews, for lunch; and poached eggs with cheese and rice for dinner.  The cheese isn’t the best choice but eggs with cheese is just so tasty.

I had also done some reading in the morning, so my breakfast didn’t happen until about noon. And I spent too much time on Facebook during the whole of yesterday.

I got out for that bike ride, just as I’d planned but don’t think it’s a good idea to include that in my exercise plan anymore for now.  I do need to get outside more though, so I’m thinking along the lines of walking on flatter ground for short distances. Soon it will be getting darker much earlier so I will need to get that in earlier, perhaps before eating dinner would be ideal.

I had some really bad and scary heart palpitations last night that started after dinner and got worse as the night went on. So by the time I went to bed, things inside my chest were quite uncomfortable and alarming.  This isn’t completely new and I’d experienced them before after some somewhat high intensity cardio. High intensity for me means pushing up a few hills on my bike.

Given past eating habits, fairly recent weight gain and my continual depression and grieving process, this isn’t so surprising. I said the palps aren’t new, but they are new in the bigger picture since I’ve only been experiencing heart palps for the last couple (if that) years.  They are mostly mild, when I have them but I’ve experienced more intense ones, one other time before last night.

At first I thought they were coming from having eaten the salad dressing which contains some olive oil and sesame oil. In the past with careful observation, I’ve noticed the palpitations have started immediately after consuming concentrated oils, such as the two mentioned. But then I realized, although the oil may have contributed, it was the bike ride that was the real culprit.

I took a few supplements that I’ve heard and read from some naturopath doctors that are good support for the heart. One I included was niacin and I believe that opened up my blood vessels enough to get the palpitations to stop and regulate my heart again.

I hadn’t taken niacin for quite some time and the last time I did, it hadn’t had such an intense effect. But last night it only took one capsule and within ten minutes (if that) my skin felt like it was kinda burning. Not generally a pleasant feeling. But feeling that, made it feel like it was working for me all over. The skin on my face particularly was pulsating, my sinuses were swelled up and I had to breathe from my mouth, but my heart had calmed down so I in turn did also.


Please note this DISCLAIMER: That I said I BELIEVE the niacin helped. I am not a doctor and I don’t KNOW for sure if this helped. Do not take this as medical advice. Do not take this as a claim for a cure. Whether it stopped my palps for the moment or not, it certainly did not cure the problem. Such an issue as heart palpitations calls for seeing a doctor.


Click here to check out the website I referred to above. The website is called Wild Truth written and run by Daniel Mackler.

The video I watched yesterday also with Daniel Mackler:

Edit: August 25, 2018: As I read this I’m reminded of the heart palpitation scares I went through. I had some really intense episodes that I thought would end me a couple nights there. I notice now that I have them after an outburst…which obviously puts my body into huge stress. So I think the palpitations are closely related to stress as well as the other things I mentioned. They did calm down for a while but then have started back up again.
What gets them going:
Rendered/cooked/bottled fats
stress
foods that cause histamine responses.

Dysphoria and Shoes Dropping: A Connection

Googles definition of dys·pho·ri·a
disˈfôrēə/

noun

Psychiatry
noun: dysphoria
  1. a state of unease or generalized dissatisfaction with life.

What sucks about dysphoria is that there is no real enjoyment to life. Nothing that really gets me up and at ’em.

The times I’ve felt that way were when I was anticipating getting together with friends, going on a date or I had a job where my crush worked too.

I don’t remember getting excited all on my own or inventing my own reason to be excited from within.

In my last post I talked about wanting to create some excitement for myself by getting into the storage bin with all my old clothes that no longer fit. And it was fun to check them all out and I even felt an underlying determination that I will fit into them again. But excitement? Not really.

It’s sad. I used to think it was depression, that depression was the name of what I had. But then I started seeing a therapist again after an excruciating break up and I was told I probably have PTSD. The break up contributed, but the trauma from a childhood of emotional abuse and neglect.

Now that I spend a lot of time alone and don’t have much of a social life, I’m sure that has much to do with the dysphoria. I like talking to others. I like to learn about other people. Of course I like people who listen as well and those who can help me create a balanced conversation. It doesn’t even have to be one where we agree. In fact disagreements can be fun and interesting, as long as everyone stays civil and there’s no name calling.

Thing is most of my friends are drinkers. So for the time being, while I know I’d be weak and would probably “do as the Romans do,” I feel the need to stay away.

Another reason for the dysphoria, I believe, is that I’m now conditioned to believe that any excitement that I feel will be spoiled, precisely BECAUSE I feel happy. Have you ever been in the middle of screaming with delight over some really great news or some great trip you’re planning, only to be told your dog just died or something equally devastating?

Or how about this?

You’re a little kid, sitting at the table with your family having dinner and you start laughing at something. Something really funny someone just said or maybe a funny face one of your siblings just made. Then suddenly, in the midst of your joy, your father bellows in a loud, sudden and deep voice, “SIT UP STRAIGHT AND EAT YOUR DINNER!”

You are startled. Suddenly the food in your mouth no longer tastes very good and you feel absolute humiliation. You can barely chew and the thought of helping it out with a gulp of milk (as the only choice of liquid) makes your stomach heave a little.

This happens often and your mother does nothing to put an end to it. She might say something like a long drawn out, “HuUuUUuUn!” But in reality she has no power and he doesn’t take her too seriously, because he continues this and similar behavior every time he feels the need to control any situation. There seems to be such a thing as having too much fun.

It’s become an expectation now that joy will be turned to sorrow or excitement to shame and humiliation.

It’s conditioning.

I miss joy and excitement. But have I ever really truly experienced it in the first place?