A few things have happened over the last few days to contribute to another downward spiral. I’m sorry this is so long – I’m trying to sift through.
1) I went to the gynaecologist on Friday, and had to endure the whole hideous gynae exam thing. As I’ve said before this is a tough thing for me; for all survivors (see these posts by Butterfly and Sword Dance Warrior). It was revolting. I flipped out. I was shaking like a leaf, and there were tears.
The gynaecologist was very good. He was gentle with me (although I don’t remember a heap about the actual exam) and he realised I was freaking out, so he sat with me and chatted to me for a while afterwards until I calmed down a bit. Very good of him.
I still spun out of control and ended up in what I can only describe as a dissociative state for hours afterwards. I don’t remember much about the rest of the afternoon (except I nearly had a car accident on the way home). I felt like I was on drugs, floating around, totally disconnected (although perhaps I should have taken my therapist’s advice and popped some valium before the appointment).
I was completely shattered – by the appointment itself and by my degree of flipping out. But, in a small twist, I somehow managed to be gentle with myself as I was coming back to reality (binge eating episode excluded). I lay on the floor by the heater, then went to bed early as I was so completely and utterly wrecked.
Ok, I know some of you will say that seeing a male gynaecologist is just plain dumb. Sure, I could see a female, but that’s just as bad. I still feel disgusting. And I still freak out (especially seeing as the last female gynae I had used to leave me lying legs akimbo in front of the window, with all my bits lit up for the world to see. She said no one could see in, but given I could see the patients through the windows across the courtyard, I wasn’t convinced).
2) Albert Einstein once said that the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results. By that definition, I am very clearly and very definitely “insane”.
How come I keep thinking my mother can give me the support I need? Last night she said to me that my therapist has been putting ideas in my head; that I should stop wasting so much time and money on her, and should just “pull my finger out and get on with it.”
She also said she doesn’t think it’s helping, and doesn’t see any difference in me now compared to a few months ago. I know that’s not true. Since she came to my therapist with me I’ve been trying to open up to her more, so her comments were just a giant slap in the face.
Plus she said she thinks it’s her fault I fell apart in the first place. I said I don’t blame her (which I don’t), but she said she doesn’t believe me and now I feel guilty for that too.
Here I am doing something to help myself – not just that, but something that could be the most important thing I ever do (albeit the hardest), and she comes out with these comments? She’s kidding me. I thought she said she loves me and wants to support me? She’s seriously kidding me.
I am still so incredibly upset. Completely shattered. Part of me wonders if she’s feeling threatened by the changes in me, and by the miniature boundaries I’ve been establishing. I’m not sure… I think I’m still too upset to really think about it.
3) My bestest friend in the whole world said something that upset me the other day. We’ve been friends since we were 3 years old, which means we’ve been friends for 35+ years. She knows a little of my past, and has also been to therapy with me once. For the last few months she’s really been my rock, and I honestly don’t know where I’d be without her.
Anyway, we were out shopping, and lolling about on some couches in a furniture shop. There was one couch that was GINORMOUS and I made some flippant remark about there being enough room to have sex without rolling off.
She said, “You could, you know.”
I said, “Yes, I could go and root everything that moves. No thanks.”
She said, “No, I mean you could have a relationship if you wanted to.”
I was dumbstruck. I found her comment so unbelievably hard to swallow. Mostly because the concept of a meaningful and positive relationship is entirely alien to me and the way I see myself. Thoughts of relationships are just the fast road to self-loathing for me – why would anyone love me, for god’s sake?
I was hurt by her remark, although I know I shouldn’t have been. I guess it just brought home to me how much she really doesn’t get what I’ve been through or what I’m dealing with now.
Ugh. I can’t go there.
4) In my last post my friend Strangename said:
“Imagine your the little girl and listen to what you are saying! Kerro give yourself the comfort you wanted to give that little girl! Do a meditation, imagine the little girl sitting next to you, how she feels when you tell her all those nurturing things. Feel the intensity of how good it feels. Try and connect to the emotion, don’t bury it, just be with it. Allow yourself to feel good, this is a groundbreaking experience for you! I am in awe of some of the work you are doing…and I know its not easy, but push through it.”
I’m sorry, Strangename, I can’t. Just the image of me as a child, let alone the nurturing, is too damned hard. It hurts too much.