Monday, July 20, 2009

I'm still here.

I moved this blog to author only access for a while, but I can't go to sleep with it like that. If he follows that link I sent him, then he just does. I will not be held hostage. I refuse to go back to sprinting to the bathroom because my insides are filled with terror. Yes, what I wrote is harsh, but it's how I really feel when my therapist can't seem to accept no for an answer when the question is whether or not something will be done to my body. It shouldn't keep coming up from him in conversations. I have said no and there is no way he can be mistaken or unsure about my feelings on this subject. To me this feels frightening, coercive and invasive. It feels incestuous. It makes me feel like he thinks he knows what is best and I do not - that HE should get to decide what happens to my body no matter what I want. It makes me feel like he is just waiting for me to get weak so he can move in and convince me. These feelings are terrifying, nasty and truly disgusting. And they end up turning me into a rabble rousing bitch. It makes me want to insist that he start taking sleeping pills. Yes, he has admitted that he is 'not the best sleeper'. What if I pushed pills on him every time he mentioned it? I'll bet he would think that something was not right about that. Something is not right about what he has been doing. If he can't fix it, then I see no hope here.

I don't understand why it was okay to process things honestly when there was a single memory. Then he screwed up with the teenage girl. Once that all came to light, he never should have mentioned drugs again. He says he respects my decisions, but he has still mentioned it a few times since then. I can't take it anymore. He has also mentioned DBT and other CBT type crap when that would work in the opposite direction of what needs to happen for me. I know he knows this, yet... I live in fear of my memories. I am afraid that if I remember, or make contact with anything, then he will abandon me and hurt me by trying to shove the memories back in or make me pretend they don't bother me. It's not okay to cry anymore. It's only okay to hide in the house, have bouts of IBS, not write my stories, not take pictures, not do anything. Translated from the inside, he has turned this into life with my mother: Don't cry or you are crazy and will be shipped off to the nut house. Don't shake or show fear or you will be a truly disgusting sight deserving of abandonment. Don't think about that, stop that, think only good things, don't move, don't breathe, just exist until you die but for fuck's sake do it in a way that doesn't bother the rest of us. Or else. It doesn't matter if you're like this because of all the (made up) bad stuff they did to you (in your imagination). You should be able to can all that crap and act right or it's proof that you need to be drugged.

And I know I told him that my father used to drug me. I know I told him that. Why is he doing this to me? Why am I not acceptable? Because I have real thoughts and feelings and refuse to let other people superimpose their own values over my own? All I'm trying to do is live. Why is that so wrong, huh? Why does that make me wrong? Why am I so unimportant? Why don't I have the right to not be badgered and coerced into destroying myself?

5 comments:

  1. (((EH)))

    It makes me so angry to see you being put through this bullshit. I'm so sorry. I know how it feels, and I think you're doing great holding it together. I don't know why they have to play these power games with already traumatized people.

    So few MHPs seem to realize that they were NOT the ones who survived our trauma...that they weren't there to protect us back then, and that it was US who saved ourselves, not them...that it's not their right to insist on things because they believe they know best for some reason AND to KEEP ON insisting despite the damage it does to the trust of clients who've been coerced and forced into things their whole lives.

    I hate it. I really effing hate it when it gets to this point, and they make things worse rather than providing the treatment they've been hired to provide. They need to check their rescuer bullshit at the door and do the damn job they got hired to do.

    When do our choices about our bodies become our own? I'm so damn sick and tired of this crap too.

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  2. Near to every therapist I ever had tried to push drugs, particularly antidepressants, on me. And it turns out that I can't tolerate antidepressants. They flip me into instant mania. Even some fellow sufferers are so brainwashed by the drug-peddling that they try to convince me that I should take them. I can't take most drugs, even non-psychotropic ones. We have to know our own bodies and minds.
    Last year a tragic thing happened when a local man who happened to be a paranoid schizophrenic was hit and killed by a car. He rode his bike around picking up trash and was kind and friendly to everyone. He lived with his brother. He explained once that he had been on about 5 different meds at one time but couldn't tolerate the side effects. He learned to live with his symptoms. I'm not saying everyone can or should, just that the patient often knows more than the doctor (or therapist) gives him/her credit for. We're crazy, not stupid! ;-)
    (And actually less crazy than they like to think in some cases.)

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  3. Love and respect can be very helpful for healing from abuse.

    Shame it's so rare.

    Shame it doesn't come in pills...

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  4. ((Hugs))

    You are acceptable. And the fact that you set boundaries and stick to them is awe-inspiring. Hang in there

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  5. Stick to your guns. You are totally right.
    This sucks.

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