I do have an appt. with my doc on Monday for antidepressants. So hopefully, we can get that going. My therapist is in favor of this. I figure I probably have a genetic predisposition for depression as my mom has suffered all her life with it; and then there is my history; and then there is being raised by someone fighting with depression, which is not exactly the same as it being in the genes; and then there is the current atmosphere with covid, masks, etc.; and then there are the health concerns which have depression as a possible component — thyroid, diabetes, etc. So, I doubt I will have any trouble getting anti-depressants. My concern is getting something that will not interact with all the meds and will work. So I have to make a list of all the stuff they have tried in the past and avoid some of that.
I did talk to Angela and I feel a lot better. She talked about how what others think of us and how we ourselves think of us matters little, because it is all errant. She said it a lot better though. She did say that she liked me and that was a great relief. But she also said that it does not seem to last for me. She said I should ask myself why it matters whenever I start worrying about it. We talked a lot about why it matters to me. But I did feel a lot better. She does a nice job of not making me feel like an idiot. She wants for me to discuss intrusive thoughts, and such, but thinks that what we need to work on now are secondary effects of what happened. She said that better than I am right now too.
I have had a couple of bad nights at work. I started thinking that my brother might show up this weekend for the holiday, and then started to flash back. I had to get up and walk around. I talked to my mom at lunch and she tells me that it is my little brother’s partner’s birthday. I have 3 brothers and 2 sisters and 5 nieces and a nephew, and I haven’t followed the birthdays of my siblings partners. Ok, I went to my little brother’s last partner’s 30th, but he was dying. And that was a lot of years ago. Anything to make a holiday more crazy that it already is. The next evening I got into thinking about Chuck — a dirty old man that lived on the next street with his brother and sister, and we spent a lot of time there playing games and stuff after school, but he was a jerk. And I flashed back at some of the stuff he did to me. There is just so much of it from all over. If I am not pissed at these jerks than I am pissed that my parents allowed me so little in the way of protection, leaving me with jerks. I am just a broken record. But I remember things, Mom tells me things I don’t remember. She tells me that once when she left me at my grandmother’s, I called and begged her to come home. I have no memory of this at all. None. But it is like a piece that falls into place with things I have remembered. And my sister and I used to both go, then my sister stopped coming. I wonder why.
I am reading another book, big surprise. This one is something like, “from broken to beautifully whole” something to do with a Japanese art of repairing broken pottery. It is by Susan Scuder (not exactly sure on the spelling). She is a survivor of my age from Ohio. And the beginning of the book was really good, resonated with me. But her story is a little different. It was her step father and it went on for years, but when her mother found out, she hit the roof, and told him to hit the road, which is something that so many survivors have to do without. So she can talk about a positive outlook/not focusing on the negative, and her persistence, and so on, but it is so different in so many ways. Of course I can choose the positive, and I can think of the glass half-full and gratitude and all that. But I spend enough energy blaming myself for not being further along. And I don’t know.
There is more about having this adversity making us into stronger individuals, and I am not willing to entertain that thought at all. There are wackos out there who want to make pedophilia just another sexual preference. There are college professors who are suggesting that this crap does not damage children. Suggesting even some backward way that it can be beneficial — no way. And, just like what Angela said in the beginning, how we or others perceive us, the same is true of how much strength we have and whether it was increased or decreased depending on what we have dealt with.
And then there is the bit where the mother threw the jerk out. See, that doesn’t necessarily happen when the survivor and the perpetrator(s) have the same parents.