The tough stuff

As you know I took a slide backwards last week, in response to some things my therapist and I talked about. I feel bad because I’m sure you all think that my fall was caused by heinous events in my past. In a way it was, but only indirectly.

Just that my therapist chose to dig into my hopes and dreams and fears. She’s tried to dig there before but I haven’t let her. I don’t usually let ANYONE go there. I’m not sure why I let her, perhaps because she was gentle with me and I trust her more. Perhaps because I secretly knew I had to talk about this stuff some time, so why not in that session?

My therapist doesn’t think my wretchedness afterwards was a response to the intense emotions. Well, she might, but she also said that the things we talked about really touched a nerve (or ten) and, because I’ve never told anyone what lies deep inside, I felt completely exposed and vulnerable, as I did as a child. Yep. She’s got that right.

I was so shamed by the whole thing that I could barely look at her, and I prayed to every implausible deity I could think of for the chair to swallow me up. The deities mustn’t have been listening that day because the chair didn’t swallow me. It never does.

I’m rambling. I’m sorry. Perhaps avoiding the toxic waste?

So, what is this toxic waste? Well, it’s actually kind of silly. My therapist asked me again if I want a relationship and children. For some silly reason I was brave enough to tell her the truth: that I do want a relationship and I do want children. Desperately.

I yearn for the companionship of a relationship. Simple things like someone to come home to. Someone to share breakfast and the newspaper with on a Sunday. Someone – dare I say it – to love me and support me. Someone to care if I come home at night.

I also yearn to be a mother. To share in the miracle of life and the beauty of children. To love and nurture someone as I was never loved. Meanwhile, the tick-tock of that biological clock is getting louder and louder.

Of course, I am desperately afraid that these things will never happen. That even if they do, I’ll be completely hopeless at them. I’m afraid that I (and my father) will be proven right: that I am indeed unlovable. That my life will have been wasted.

And now that I write all this down it seems silly. I’m sorry to everyone if you thought this was something meaningful. I had a hard time writing about the sobbing, let alone its source as well. I’ll try not to do that to you again.


13 thoughts on “The tough stuff

  1. Sweet heart,

    This is related to the abuse. This is related to healing. This is something meaningful.

    This is about you, about your life, your aspirations and your happiness and having a family of love of your own. This is meaningful and important.

    It is perfectly rational and expected that you could get this upset by all of it. I have, at times, as well. Good and healing thoughts to you.


  2. What could be more meaningful than the need to love and feel loved? Since I’ve been struggling with infertility I’ve found so many people take for granted the idea of having a partner and family. They seem willing to dismiss such longings as common everyday experiences. But I don’t think that it’s for no reason, that everytime we see a character in a film or story go through some sort of awakening or crises it often has to do with love or birth. I think there is definitely something existential about those needs and longings – it’s big picture stuff, I think.

  3. Oh Kerro, This is not silly stuff! Its very real, and every person has hopes and fears that surround their dreams. Your passion in them may be drivin by a different set of circumstances, but its that passion which will make you rise above and succede! I just see a real person exposing herself. You just feel naked because you never had anyone there to hold you and wrap you up. You had the opposite…ridicule and laughing. I think the writing is helping you, and I think you held yourself together better than you give yourself credit for. I bet if you picked up the phone and called your girlfriend, she would be proud of you! Just as we are here, knowing how hard that really was!! (((Kerro)))

  4. Kerro, It is not silly at all. I may be the most important thing. Recognizing and naming what you want even while acknowledging your fear of getting it. It is like holding contradictory things (wants, needs) at the same time and feeling like it is silly or unimportant is just the way we make ourselves wrong for those wants. I wish I could say something to help but know that I am thinking and sitting with you.

  5. Oh, honey.

    There’s nothing more terrifying or upsetting than admitting you want something. Wanting implies hope. And hope carries with it the potential for disappointment. For people who have been hurt and disappointed again and again, the idea of wanting or hoping for anything is really horrifying. It’s a very vulnerable place to go.

  6. I almost killed myself many many times because I was so sure that I would never get over my shit enough to find a man, have sex with him, marry him, and have children with him. I was very very wrong in my thinking. It is biological and natural to want love and for some women it is just as biological and natural to want children. The fact that you have these hopes and desires means that you are a human being, and a beautiful one at that.

  7. I can’t add much to what the folks here are saying, only to say that it’s normal to feel raw. It’s okay to grieve. Grief is a friend that helps clear out the gunk and make room for happiness. I never thought I’d find a good person to marry iether and blessedly, I did. The universe has many ways to mess us up (as we all know) but it also has many wonderful and hopeful ways to bless us, sometimes when we can’t even imagine it. May you be blessed.


  8. Hey,
    Nothing you have to say is unimportant. We read your blog because your words are meaningful to us. Take care.

  9. I really can relate. I can’t tell you how many times my father told me, “When people get to know you, they will turn on you.” or “When they find out what you’re really like inside, they won’t like you.”

    It is very hard to overcome those obstacles from the past… but it can be done.

    I have four amazing children between the ages of 12 and 21. All of them know what unconditional love feels like.

    You can do it, too. Hang in there.

  10. Pingback: The Food Thing – Part 2: the Weight Thing and the Body Image Thing « Kerro’s Korner

  11. Pingback: Emptying my head « Kerro's Korner

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