CW/ Abuse
Ive been quiet when I should have been talking, and for that I apologise to myself. Ive been quiet when I should gave been talking for fear of reprisals, and I have an abusive mother to thank for that. I have been quiet when i should have been talking, and thats not right.
The last one and a half weeks I’ve been deep in an overwhelming sea of bad memories. Fearful of speaking openly about what’s been happening to me because I wanted it to stop. But when I first asked for it to stop it got worse, so much worse.
And the person involved is going to see this and possibly get angry at me even though ive not and will not name them. Because how dare I even suggest that they’ve done anything wrong at all, certainly thats how its felt of late. I asked for my needs to be met at the same time as showing that I cared about theirs, I was met with a rejection of my feelings and an accusation of something ive not wanted to unwrap. Whatever the accusation was i dont want to understand, it was not my feelings it was theirs and they were trying to force them onto me. I asked to have my boundaries respected, it was implied that I was being outrageously offensive and then I was compared to their family. Again their feelings coming out and taking over. It all began because they sent me some screenshots of someone being horrible to them, no context or anything. And without explanation I had to work out for myself who it was they were interacting with, my best guess…their mother. WOAH. Who in their right might would send me unannounced and unprepared a stack of screenshots of their mother being nasty to them? Who in their right mind would unload of all things familial abuse onto me? When have I ever expressed the ability to manage other people’s needs in that way? So their clearly not in their right mind because otherwise they would never have done that, right? Probably. Theyre obviously struggling, we’ve all seen that. They Are having a rough time, and things seem to be getting worse. Its been horrid to watch and horrid to feel helpless in the situation. So, when I see those screenshots sent without warning I am triggered, im back at home, im a child again and I am in a nightmare. I cant focus, my breathing catches, my heart goes crazy and I cant tell you where my mind went, somewhere deeply unpleasant. I cant remember the rest of that day all I know is i shut down consiously and went immediately into hiding. I cant say what happened that night, I just know that it was horrible. Full of panic, cold sweats and nightmares. The next day I still felt awful, I had plans to go to a day long yoga retreat which from experience I knew would be a safe space and hopefully good for me. I knew from experience that I should not be alone in that state. And I knew that I could leave the yoga thing any time I wanted so if the urge to get out became overwhelming I could leave without guilt. I also knew I could get there on auto pilot with little to no risk of me wandering off and ending up some place random. I must have packed my bag the day before as everything was ready to go, so off I went. After the initial settle in and during the first break of the day I was calm enough to figure out that it was that message that had triggered some awful stuff in me, and that I needed to affirm a boundary. I shakily wrote a message saying that I care about them and their situation and asking them to not do that again, as familial abuse is a massive trigger for me. And as much as I’d like to be able to help them, in this particular situation I couldn’t and i was sorry. The response broke my heart and made me so angry. I had expected them to recognise what had happened but they didnt, I thought they would care enough about me to see what i had said and realise that I was not in a good way as a result of the random message they’d sent me. Maybe thats selfish? I think no more selfish than them sending me those awful screen shots without checking first that it was going to be okay to do so. Maybe its selfish to say that I have some things that I can’t handle. No more selfish than them assuming that I can handle it. But I know i have a right to set my own boundaries and I know its okay to say when something is not okay. I was in a really bad place, and they had helped put me there. I was not being accusitory, in fact I went out of my way to make it clear that I was just setting a boundary while saying expressly that I cared about their situation. Even though I was hurting so much that i could easily have just thrown mud, I could have shouted, I could have called names i could have made it very clear just how much pain they had caused me by hurting them back. But, Im not that person and its obvious to me that they are already struggling, they needed compassion and understanding. Needed someone to be kind to them, like I needed someone to be kind to me. Like I thought they would be kind to me.
They apparently interpreted my request as a rejection of their needs, which was the opposite of what I was expressing. And my despiration to explain that wasnt what I was doing appeared to play into whatever was going on for them, making them attack me more, upsetting me even more than i already had been after gathering the courage and spoons to speak up in the first place. Instead of understanding or care my feelings were rejected and ignored. My words twisted into something else. I was compared to their family, a family they dont like, but with no explanation as to what they actually meant. And it was implied that I know nothing about anything, that i have no idea what its like to have a shitty family and that i was denying them the space to talk about their issues….. Sometimes I wish i had snapped at them, sometimes i wish i had given in to the the urge to tell them how much of a dick they were being, but like i said thats not me and its not what they needed. True, maybe treating them like shit would have got their attention but it wouldn’t have been productive. Unless the result I wanted was destruction. I was literally in a place where i was showing myself compassion, and extending that by messaging someone who’s action had hurt me, letting them know that had happened. Up until that point they were unaware of what had happened resulting from their message, and they wouldnt know until i said something. So it made sense to extend that compassion to them too, not that I wouldnt have anyway i was just very much in that head space, keeping me grounded. Their responses felt like a deliberate provocation into a fight, and due to the full day of trauma Id experienced I could so easily have been drawn into that. My surroundings kept me focused on not doing that. But they didnt stop the stress from making my blood boil. I was trying so damn hard to break out of an abuse nightmare, to act with calm and not react. I was trying so hard to show compassion and recieving none in return. No matter how hard I tried there was no keeping emotions seperate, and their lack of understanding was quickly bringing the nightmare back. They said to move on and started talking about something else, asking for something from me…………. If I could include a gif here it would be one of those stunned blinking faces. Disrespect atop rejection, might as well be back home with her.
I had contacted them to ask for their respect in my boundary and to let them know that I was hurt, and trying to do so without blame or accusation. I now had to get the fuck away from the person who had hurt me and was now twisting the knife. There was no way I could give them any more, not now. All they could see was their wants and needs and not how they were affecting me. That drive, whether malicous or unconscious, was seriously damaging me. Added to the ptsd they had triggered I was in no way capable of helping them. And so i said that I wasnt able to just move on and needed time to process, trying to ignore the grumpy response i put my phone down and burst into tears. In public, in front of everyone who may be looking. On the plus side, Id put myself into a safe space where I could be vulnerable without judgement, even from myself.
It took a long time for the nightmares to ease off, and the anxiety to calm enough that I wasnt a jibbering wreck or manically ranting at people. My stress levels were peaked again by dealing with US governmental nonsense, housing stuff and a continuing lack of psyciatric support, each one of those could be a blog on their own! Eventually I had enough distance to be able to think about the previous weekend and think about how I was going to approach the situation. To let them know what had happened, the ongoing effects of it and everything else that was going down. Due to the extremely sensitive nature of my situation and the deep history connected with my responses even just thinking about how to talk about it is hard. How does one have a conversation about an issue connected to and adjacent to historical abuse without going into details about the abuse and at the same time still getting things across and not going down that rabbit hole? Its fucking difficult, doubly so when already triggered and fighting off flashbacks and intrusive memories. But I was thinking about it, and I was working out how to keep myself safe while talking about it. When I started getting more messages, ones that wound me up, made me roll my eyes. I’m not going into full details but we ended up in a text base dispute including me still having to explain once again why I was upset in the first place. Back and forth again, winding me up again. Making me feel completely unheard, again. Its like a nightmare all of its own, my chest is hurting again, my head is swimming, I’m sweating and pacing around, my jaw clenched and I’m fairly sure I’m going to have an anurism or heart attack, if I havent had one already. Im manic again and feel like I’m genuinly going mad from the effort of making myself stay calm. I am trying to not go ballistic, I am trying to keep my abused child feelings seperate from my hurt adult feelings, although thats difficult when the reason for one is whats caused the other but I was still trying to be grown up and calm and level. That was why I needed the time to process, its not just about getting over the memories and repressing them back down, its not just about calming down and getting over myself. Its also about determining which feelings belong in which camp, and which ones cross over. That way I can figure out exactly what my needs are, and what my abused child needs are. There was so much going around my head, a lot of stuff to determine and identify.
The reconnected messages got increasingly more stressful for me, I was reading more rejections of my feelings and the original issue that had set everything off. I was unable to go into what had been happening to me for a week or reach out for comfort. And it was apparent that in that time they had not even considered what I had asked a week earlier, and that really hurt again. They pointed out that they have been so supportive and done loads for me, as though that automatically gives them a free pass to be nasty to me without comment or complaint. They acted as though me saying that they had done something bad was the worst thing I could ever do to them. They twisted my words and claimed I’d called them a piece of shit. All this because they needed to offload about what I presume was their mother being nasty to them. It got offloaded onto me and they moved on, leaving me behind in a literal nightmare. Fighting off the psycological crap that she would throw at me every day. I had tried to look after myself and create a buffer between me and the potential for that being set off again. In doing so I had fallen into the recieving end of a whole load of hurt and anger that had nothing to do with me. Just like when I was a kid, and BOOM there I am, again. Eventually though I got a message that made me relax and feel seen and cared for and potentially understood. I could breathe again, I calmed down and could go back to thinking about things. I responded saying thank you, though I didnt go into how much it meant as that is a massive conversation. But I did say that I needed more time as my trust was damaged. I really couldnt cope with any more until I had taken time to recouperate, then hopefully we could talk and I would be able to talk without getting taken by memories and freaking out. And I could rest and gather the spoons to have this conversation. They replied saying Ok they understood. Then immediately went on to say how they were hurting too… BOOM. It felt as though they had previously said what they felt they needed to in order to placate me but just could not resist making sure I understood that really this was all about them, their feelings and their needs……
Its all horrifically reminiscent of the daily emotional abuse I endured growing up. Snapping at me for daring to speak up. A lack of understanding or empathy, and much later apologies that come with conditions or statements about how hurt she was.
If they had just read my first message properly they would have seen me acknowledge right up front that I see them having a hard time and saying that I wanted to help but am unable to in this situation. There is no need to tell me they’re hurting because I can fucking see that from miles away. I have already offered compassion, but that is ignored and then more demanded. Again, not seeing Me in the equation offending me by rejecting my offered compasion only to demand compassion afterwards.
If they had just read and seen my message they would have seen that I have been in a regressive hell of childhood memories because of one thoughtless action.
I have not said anything before now because to do so runs the risk of them throwing more shit at me and Ive been terrified of that. And with just cause, when i first asked them to please not do a specific thing again it became something so much bigger and more horrible. It became about me not giving them what they wanted, it became about all the things they’ve done for me, it became about their hurt feelings. All because I asked them to not hurt me again. And hey presto, I am fucking back home again. With her it was always about her, her needs, her feelings above all else. I was denied and reduced to the level of a pathetic useless waste of space, always in the way, always “demanding” so much and never grateful for all the things she did for us. She was fucking crazy and lived in a twisted fantasy, she was very unwell and very angry, and she took it out on us constantly. The few times I did manage to speak up for myself I was met with fury, violence while I was still small enough, weird or random accusations. She would bitch about me to others in the family and get them to attack me but not talk to me directly. She’d throw her weight around for days glaring at me, not content to have others do her dirty work she had to be very explicit in Not talking to me in denying me the right to have me own feelings, denying me any kindness or comfort that she made a big show out of giving to the others. Not because she felt like comforting them but because she felt compelled to punish me. On the rare occasion it got to the point of us talking about some thing, she would cry and start talking about how much she was hurting, and I would apologise to her…..for something that she had done to me. If she ever managed to verbalise a hint of an apology it was always in the form of ” I’m sorry you feel that way” followed by “but….” and then some crap about how I had caused the situation, how I was responsible for her behaviour, how I had to suck it up and get over it because how dare I imply she was anything less than perfect. How dare I question her behaviour. How dare I have feelings and needs of my own. Once she realised she could no longer beat me without me hitting back she moved onto intensifying the emotional blackmail. Crocodile tears, transferring her rage and anger and pain onto me (and my siblings) manipulating me, making sure I understood without a doubt that she could and would destroy me if I ever exposed her true self. Making sure that everyone outside the home would have a very different idea of her. I still feel sick at the memories of people coming up to me to tell me how wonderful my mother was. Genuinely, she convinced nearly everyone around that she was one of the best mothers they’d ever met. So I couldnt even tell them the truth because they’d never believe me. And the ones that would believe me, I wouldnt tell the truth because I was terrified of what she’d do. I was stiffled. Repressed. Denied. Manipulated. Abused in every way. And I could never talk about it because she would do something horrid to me. The few times I spoke up the retribution was intense and massively out of proportion. Its taken me over 30 years of therapy and practice to get past that, though at times its harder than others, and if I’m in a vulnerable place then I’m primed for a volatile reaction, including ptsd flashbacks, intense fear and anxiety and a terror of retribution. Which has in this case led to me not blogging and therefore hampering my ability to process. Because I was terrified of what might happen, AM terrified of what might happen.
They, the message sender, have No Idea about any of this. Because they reacted badly to my original request. I’ve not been able to reach out to them and explain whats been happening to me, I’ve not felt safe to reach out at all. Because of the systematic abuse from some bitch they’ve never even met. I’ve not felt able to talk/blog openly about it because I’ve not felt safe doing so, because of the systematic abuse from some woman in my childhood. I’ve been scared to speak my mind, because of what she did to me. Because I am scared of what they will do now.
But to be true to who I want to be I must push through the fear. Principles are only that if you’re consistent, if I claim one thing but do another because Im scared then its not a principle. My examples growing up were bitter people who bitched behind others backs and were pleasant to their faces, because they were scared. And i hated it, I found it cowardly and seriously fucking irritating. It also led to a lot of inner turmoil as I never knew where I truly stood. I could extrapolate, and i got good at that, but it also gets skewed towards the paranoid. Because if you dont say how you feel nobody can ever know for sure. And if you never say how you feel because you’re scared, nobody can ever know, and that has the ability to eat away at your very core.
I have been in tears, hurt, angry and feeling unable to open up because they’re putting pressure on me to be nice to them. Completely unable to recognise that thats what I was doing in the first place. And every time they send a message its like being lashed from someone I care about and 30 years away. Every comment that rejected my feelings may aswell have been from my mother. Every time Ive expressed myself its been pushed aside as though I have no validity, just like when I was a child often being literally pushed away not just figuratively.
All these accusations and behaviours that theyre doing but can’t see, reflecting them off me and claiming me as the source. This has been my punishment for not just being a bitch in the first place and screaming at someone for hurting me because they were hurt. Thats what I get for being kind. That’s what i get for seeing someones pain snd trying to help them despite the pain it was causing me.
The person doing this is not the one I thought i knew. Was it me being blind? I know im not the only one to perceive them as different. Was it an act? Has it always been there but repressed until they reached some crisis point? Are they acting out the only thing they were taught growing up?
One of the worst things is they cant see what one small action has done to me. They can’t see what the following words did to me. They cant see how sick its all made me. And they cant comfort me or help with the pain. My fear and paranoia are climbing to near unbearable levels, much more and it’ll definitely require strong medication to avoid a trip to A&E. That level of paranoid anxiety is what happens when things are just not right, its often what used to alert me to a near mind breaking level of unwellness. I mean it still does, but now I recognise problems before they hit that point, doesnt make them easier to experience just less confusing. The last 10 or so days has sent me express to deep anxiety and fear. Im needing to ground or do body checks multiple times every day. My chest feels like its both being crushed & held flat with metal cage And as though half of my insides have been replaced with a rancid decaying solid lump, inflexible and very not squishy, steadfastly remaining in place no matter what I do. Taking up valuable lung and heart space. Im hyper aware of aches and pains, being made worse by actual illness, waves of nausea, inability to focus my eyes, cramps and eternally sore muscles that just wont relax. All the things that come from being long term stressed and hyper alert. Similar to how my body felt growing up, only worse because I dont have the resilience of a child’s body. But I do have the memories from that child and those memories are rampant. In my mind i am hiding under my bed, like when she would lose her shit and come looking for one of us. In my mind Ive been stuck under that bed for days, periodically slipping out to be an adult then hiding again. I know she can’t get me any more, i know that she stopped with the physical abuse as soon as I was able to fight back. Bullies dont like a level playing field. But the emotional abuse continued. And continues, for as long as I abuse myself or allow others to stamp all over my feelings. I have been scared to post this, because I am afraid of what they might do, and that is just so wrong in so many ways.
They may get angry at me for posting my thoughts before talking to them. Firstly there were plenty of chances to talk before, starting with my first message asking them to stop. Secondly, thats a classic way for people to moderate someone elses words before they go public, ensuring that to observers any potentially damaging comments arent heard thus protecting their reputation, and their feelings. Thirdly, I dont need permission. This is how I process things and I have been unable to process this stuff properly. Until now that last one would be championed, now I fear it will be villified. I could be wrong, Id love to be wrong, please prove me wrong.
The Bouncing Spoon 