Post 5th Session

9 January 2013 § Leave a comment

So, it’s just after my 5th session with Dr. L and while sitting in the truck with my Husband, I remembered something about making deals with God and saying “words seriously do have power”.

When my mother had a stroke.  I remember making a deal with God that i would take my mom regardless of damage, “just don’t let her die.”  And now I feel like such a shit heel for making such a request.  Somedays I wonder if it would have been more humane if she passed, other days I’m thankful she’s still alive.

And every day I wrestle with what kind of child thinks it would be easier if their parent ‘weren’t here’.  That’s a pretty freaking dubious and supremely selfish thought.  Maybe I blame her for us moving here, and the choices I’ve made since.  Maybe I truly am a selfish bitch.

SuperStock_1569R-88064Regardless, she is still not the mom I remember.  I don’t see that woman anymore, which is so excruciatingly painful I cannot even begin to describe.  She was my best friend, my confidant and my cheerleader.  When I was little, she was always quick with a hug or an ‘I love you’.

Unknown-4Yet, at the same time, she was also my incriminator, my judger and my persecutor.  Somedays it would be, “Why didn’t you do this?  I asked you to do this and still you just didn’t get it right.”

Other days would be, “Why are you still asleep?  I wish I had the luxury to lay in bed like a princess.  You’re so lazy.”

My ever favorite is, “You’re sore?  That’s what’s called cramps.  I’ve had them for years, stop whining and complaining and just suck it up.”

Funnily enough I discovered years later that the intense period pain, the kind where all you can do is huddle in the fetal position cause the pain is excruciating, is endometriosis.

The most recent emotional wound she inflicted was in regards to my infertility.  She said it was my fault that I procrastinated and didn’t get checked sooner.  So the result of not getting checked early-on resulted in my infertility, which is completely my fault.

Some days, when my self esteem is in the toilet, I believe that stuff…all of it.  I’m lazy, I’m a complainer and it’s all my fault.  Daily, I still feel guilty for not being able to bear a child and give my husband a baby.

Those feelings of guilt and/or taking things to heart has always been an issue with me.  Whenever I did something wrong as a child, I remember feeling so terrible.  And during the scolding I would feel such remorse and guilt for ever having done something bad.  It could have been for something big like lying or it could have been something so small as forgetting to put the dishes away.  It didn’t matter the level or degree of transgression, I internalized it all and made it such a huge offense.  This is a big family flaw.

In my family there is no distinction between degrees of things, or varying priorities.  Everything is either classified at as a nuclear bomb or an ice cream sandwich.  Heinously bad or fantastically good.  No in between.

And for the longest time, over 30 years, I subscribed to this school of thought.  It wasn’t until living with my husband, then boy friend, where I began to learn and see first hand things, chores and life has varying degrees of priority.  Taking out the trash is not the same as making sure the rent is paid on time.  Putting dirty socks in the hamper isn’t the same as making sure there is food in the house to eat.  I would literally make myself, and my Husband, bonkers trying to get everything done because in my mind everything was important.

I am slowly trying to learn that certain things are just not that significant to turn yourself inside out over.  It’s an on going task, one in which I hope I will master and not make myself or my Husband mental in the process.


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