Apparently I Did a Lot of Work Last Year. Who Knew?
Holy crap. I wish I had filled in more of 2012. It's been a momentous year...and yet it seems like I've actually done very little. I haven't worked since last January, nor have I been taking classes - a sentence I never thought would leave my lips. I may not have done a whole lot, but I feel a lot different than I did this time last year.
I've slowly started picking up those blasted breadcrumbs and have been trying to piece things together to form some semblance of understanding about my life. This has been both successful and unsuccessful. I've learned that family will not disown me if I come to them with information that could hurt. They may not understand but they won't hate me for trying to figure things out. I can (sometimes) be okay with taking up space and I won't actually die from doing so. I am in fact the biggest hindrance to progress - I would have figured this out years ago but I was unable to get the hell out of my own way. I still tend to block the road often, but at least now I'm aware of it. Also: awareness sucks. I have a Mary Poppins bag full of wisdom - but it sucks when turned on the self. Regardless, it needs to be done, and in the end I am better for it. Indeed, it makes sense that I'd want to have the answers.
For my own personal reference, this is kind of where I'm at:
I'm still uncertain as to what to make of things as far as my history goes. There are a million signs pointing in one direction - and while I do indeed want to follow the trail/pick up the breadcrumbs/find out whether what I think is a duck is actually a duck - I still don't know. I think it's worse not knowing. I have tons of snippets, but nothing that I can point to and say, "Aha! Something sketchy DID happen and this is who did it!" I hate having incomplete data. I would love to tie it all up in a pretty little bow and present it to myself so I could find some peace, but I don't think it's ever that clear for anyone.
At this point, here's what I know for sure (I think): I have tons of nightmares about...uh...men...doing stuff. And Manitoba. And being panicked in Manitoba. And being hunted down. Among other things. I never have a sense of being safe (which is definitely due in part to the home invasion and things that happened at other points in my life). I have strong body reactions to stuff that most people don't blink an eye at, including but by no means limited to: physical contact of any kind, being looked at by anyone male, being spoken to by anyone male, having to be in public spaces and in close proximity to others. I have major issues around feeling contaminated which lead to destructive behaviors in a frantic effort to feel clean. I want to avoid or rid myself of things that feel disgusting, not because I think I'm going to die from exposure to some toxic bacteria. I don't think that makes sense to anyone but me, but that's alright. I often have to clean after nightmares or some other triggering event simply so that I can feel clean. I don't think that's normal. As depressing as this all sounds, this is substantially improved from last year; I constantly fought everything so that I could continue to ignore...myself? I know that my decade-long tango with food and sharp objects, my ever-present OCD, and anxiety, are just symptoms of a bigger problem. I'm workin' on it. I feel like I'm leaving out a lot of stuff, but writing this was, honestly, just an attempt to write my way out of a panic attack. Result: mixed.
I feel like this whole post is incredibly self-indulgent and I should just get my shit together. That being said, maybe writing this incredible pitiful post is part of that. I would not have been able to write any of this down a year ago, so I'm going to shut up and try to focus on the improvements.
I've slowly started picking up those blasted breadcrumbs and have been trying to piece things together to form some semblance of understanding about my life. This has been both successful and unsuccessful. I've learned that family will not disown me if I come to them with information that could hurt. They may not understand but they won't hate me for trying to figure things out. I can (sometimes) be okay with taking up space and I won't actually die from doing so. I am in fact the biggest hindrance to progress - I would have figured this out years ago but I was unable to get the hell out of my own way. I still tend to block the road often, but at least now I'm aware of it. Also: awareness sucks. I have a Mary Poppins bag full of wisdom - but it sucks when turned on the self. Regardless, it needs to be done, and in the end I am better for it. Indeed, it makes sense that I'd want to have the answers.
For my own personal reference, this is kind of where I'm at:
I'm still uncertain as to what to make of things as far as my history goes. There are a million signs pointing in one direction - and while I do indeed want to follow the trail/pick up the breadcrumbs/find out whether what I think is a duck is actually a duck - I still don't know. I think it's worse not knowing. I have tons of snippets, but nothing that I can point to and say, "Aha! Something sketchy DID happen and this is who did it!" I hate having incomplete data. I would love to tie it all up in a pretty little bow and present it to myself so I could find some peace, but I don't think it's ever that clear for anyone.
At this point, here's what I know for sure (I think): I have tons of nightmares about...uh...men...doing stuff. And Manitoba. And being panicked in Manitoba. And being hunted down. Among other things. I never have a sense of being safe (which is definitely due in part to the home invasion and things that happened at other points in my life). I have strong body reactions to stuff that most people don't blink an eye at, including but by no means limited to: physical contact of any kind, being looked at by anyone male, being spoken to by anyone male, having to be in public spaces and in close proximity to others. I have major issues around feeling contaminated which lead to destructive behaviors in a frantic effort to feel clean. I want to avoid or rid myself of things that feel disgusting, not because I think I'm going to die from exposure to some toxic bacteria. I don't think that makes sense to anyone but me, but that's alright. I often have to clean after nightmares or some other triggering event simply so that I can feel clean. I don't think that's normal. As depressing as this all sounds, this is substantially improved from last year; I constantly fought everything so that I could continue to ignore...myself? I know that my decade-long tango with food and sharp objects, my ever-present OCD, and anxiety, are just symptoms of a bigger problem. I'm workin' on it. I feel like I'm leaving out a lot of stuff, but writing this was, honestly, just an attempt to write my way out of a panic attack. Result: mixed.
I feel like this whole post is incredibly self-indulgent and I should just get my shit together. That being said, maybe writing this incredible pitiful post is part of that. I would not have been able to write any of this down a year ago, so I'm going to shut up and try to focus on the improvements.
posted by Breanne at 10:24 PM
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