9 May 2020: Breaking Down

10:57 PM

Well, I think the last couple of times I started to write, I got frustrated, overwhelmed, angry and just stopped in the middle of all my thoughts.  Hahahahaha….leave it to me to just say “fuck…I’m done”.  Seems like my MO when things get deep.  

Met with my therapist today…not sure how productive it was.  I think probably the most important/significant thing that came from our session was that once the barriers and defenses came down (several hours later) it challenged me to take a look at things and try to see them as they really are.  

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Quite possibly the thing that shuts me down quicker than anything else is when it’s suggested that I’ve been victimized…that I’ve been abused.  That translates immediately in my head to I am weak…I am powerless…others can control what happens to me.  And all those are the worst feelings I can even think of.  I mean, beyond being depressed and beyond feeling like a failure, being powerless to be in control of the situation…that is by far the worst feeling for me and I’ve spent a lifetime developing myself into a person who that doesn’t happen to.  Someone who would kick another kid’s ass if they hurt my sister….someone who would fire people on the spot if they stepped out of line…someone who knows everything about everything so that I can be in control and nobody has control beyond what I do.  When I’m in control…when I’m calling the shots…all those other weak feelings go away.  

And then on a whole other level, I cannot come to terms with “being abused”.  Having worked in the mental health field for a very long time and working with many abuse victims…my story, my background has no trace of abuse whatsoever.  Was my upbringing perfect?  No.  (just like everyone else’s)  Did I go through a lot of challenging things?  Yeah…but not more so than anyone else…we all have shit we deal with.  And to call this event with my employee the other day a “trauma”…feels 1000% stupid and weak.  Trauma isn’t defined by “someone said mean things to me”.  That’s not even close.  So to be experiencing a very real trauma response days after the event…what kind of shit faced baby am I??  I know it was an unpleasant experience.  Something that’s upsetting and would bother anyone for a number of days.  I get that.  I can accept that.  But I am having a helluva time accepting that this phone call I had can leave me in a panicked state.  That everytime I think about going into the office I am hit with a wave of anxiety.  That I can’t even go into the office without sitting in my car crying for 20 minutes.  That feels so rediculous and stupid!  And even if it’s not, even if it’s normal…I feel stupid for experiencing that strong of a reaction from such an insignificant event.  

The anxiety, stress and feelings of being on edge aren’t the most distressing thing to me either.  I feel dumb enough having those things…but what really pisses me off is that I’ve given her the power.  Her actions are driving my bus, and I feel like I have no control over how I’m reacting.  The most consistent thought that comes to me over and over again is that I’m a worthless piece of shit, and literally everyone would just be better off if I were dead.  And the more and more it comes to me….the more and more I believe it and the harder it is to dispute those thoughts.  I have no plan…no intent…but it’s a pretty dark, shitty place to be.  I haven’t been in this place for a very long time.  At least not for an extended period of time like this.  Last night I felt so strongly that I serve no purpose in this life and it wouldn’t make one lick of difference if I were dead.  There was really no glimmer of hope…no small part of me that could dispute that belief.  And then my kid woke up screaming in pain (as he does a couple of times a week because of his disability).  My husband tried to console him and massage his leg, but all he could do was scream out “mommy!  Mommy!” at the top of his lungs over and over.  And at that moment…a moment I’ve had with him a hundred times…I felt needed.  I could give to my child what nobody else could.  As much as he loves his dad…it is always me in those moments that can calm him down, stretch his leg, and ultimately get him back to sleep.  And he has no idea that I was the one who actually needed him.  That feeling comes and goes.  And sometimes I forget it and return to  thoughts that nobody needs me.  Sometimes I forget, no matter how hard I try to hold onto it.  

Anyway.  I am emotionally exhausted.  I feel like I’m getting pummeled and I just can’t seem to catch a break.  There’s no relief…just the pure exhaustion that comes as the fight continues.  Not to mention that I haven’t slept well in a number of nights.  I’m running on about 3-4 hours of sleep a night.  It’s not restful sleep and my body feels like it’s heavy and I have to drag it around while my mind is foggy and weak.  

Someday things will be different.  I hope.  Maybe they won’t be.  It’s a helluva lot easier to just shut it all down and do what I was doing.  It took less energy, less emotional toll on me.  I’m fighting that urge to just stop feeling…to regress back to just pressing on with my head in the sand.  I’m really trying to stick with this feeling crap.  We’ll see how long I can keep up the fight.  

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