I have been working with a therapist for a year and a half. I started seeing her because my daughter’s cries made me sad and some times angry. I would get so down I could barely move. I pushed through the days and was only really happy when I wasn’t alone with her. My marriage was getting me down, my Mother in-law was getting me down. Not having my own Mom had me down, even though I had a feeling that She also would bug the crap out of me, but I missed that. My therapist was wonderful. Help me work through the tough things that bothered me. Assured me I was doing it right. That all situations were quite normal. That I did not have postpartum depression.
Here comes the bomb. I establish Trust. I was comfortable with my family I was comfortable in my skin for the most part. I had my daughter learning sign language, and she was getting to the point that she was communicating quite well her needs and wants. We still have some money issues, but my Grandfather’s estate has finally gotten finalized. So we have an inheritance coming and my husband just is waiting for a new job which will give us a lot more income. We still have a month or two to wait.
I cried for days over this. My family, I love them, they were fighting over the money from a place that I loved to visit. Fighting over the money of two people that I love and miss dearly! My brother, and cousins were getting packages of papers, death notices, receipts, bills, copies of checks, finding out that our Grandmom was buried, but they weren’t invited. Not to mention their own issues that just hurt my heart that I couldn’t help them. My husband was my rock during this. Stood by me. Talked with me. Sat on our deck after the kiddo was in bed and talked for hours with me. Thank goodness for him. I hadn’t been this sad over things I couldn’t help with since I was younger.
As my husband was my rock, and my therapist was helping me understand my feelings I became more confident as a mother, as a wife, as a woman strong with emotions.
Labor Day weekend was here. We had a wonderful day and BBQ. My kiddo had so much fun, as she always did. We put her to bed and joined the adults for drinks. I gave myself permission to let loose. Drank a ton of beers, few shots of fireball and talked politics with friends. Big no no when drunk for me. Nothing that is emotional is allowed in conversation while drinking.
It gets fuzzy. I tried to wake my husband and he got mad, says I threw a punch, so he got dressed and said he was going for a walk. I got upset and stated yelling, “don’t leave! Don’t leave!” At the edge of the driveway. I was awake, but dreaming. In my nightmares, I scream wake up until I wake up. My Aunt and Uncle came down to help husband and I. They said I didn’t think they were real. They assured me they were real. I said fine if you’re real I want to see my daughter. I took my uncle’s hand to check on the kiddo because it wasn’t safe to do so on my own. Then I sat and talked with everyone, trying to say the Asatru prayer. (Another thing I do in nightmares, I pray loud until I awake.) As I was saying it, I came too sitting next to my Aunt. I said wow, this is real. Thanked them and went to bed.
I felt no guilt the next day. Hangover from hell, but no hangxiety. I couldn’t get out of my mind, why on Earth can people drink and just go to bed? Why on Earth did I think I was dreaming? Why does this happen to me? Why can “normal” people go to bed after a long night of drinking knowing that everyone is real? Why can’t I?
I had a therapist appointment on Wednesday. I asked her all this. She went through all the angles. I said even when I am really upset sober, only my husband can touch me (few others) or I fight or run from anyone else. She asked me where it might come from and I broke down in tears. My childhood. Being locked in my room for hours having to use the bathroom on the floor because my mom wouldn’t come to let me out. It was from that truma that I react this way. And that was not the only time.
I was abused, physically, and mentally by my mother. She allowed me also to be abused sexually by a man she brought into our lives. I have disassociation and Post traumatic stress syndrome. Disassociation, is when my mind, as a child who could not understand emotions took me away. I didn’t think it was real. My mind brought me back when the hurt and scary was over. The little girl I write about, she is a real part of my subconscious. Some times, when I drink a bunch, she comes out, because the alcohol stops the wall before between the subconscious and the conscious mind.
My post traumatic stress it happens every day it’s the weird fears of things like falling, broken glass, dying in my sleep, and not being able to breath.
My baby, she is at the age where my abuse started. Her and my grandfather’s estate, the two most brilliant pieces of my past and my present. They both brought my abuse into the light.
My PTSD got out of hand two weeks ago, I went to the ER to get an emergency psych evaluation and had my daughter checked because I thought I was hurting her in my sleep. I spent three days in the psych ward that I signed myself in so I wasn’t section 12. And the last two weeks I’ve been going to a Partial Program outpatient in the hospital learning how to build my defenses back so one day I can go forward and find out more about my abuse through therapy. It’s going to be a long road but I have loving caring family and friends an amazing husband and a beautiful little girl.