Happy New Year!
I saw Angela, I am not sure how I feel about how it went.
I came out of there thinking that I did not talk about what I wanted.
But maybe I talked about what I needed to talk about.
We did the EMDR. I can’t trust anyone. She said think about the teacher.
I told her that the teacher was, well, it was just to illustrate that there was no one.
All the folks in the church/school, in the neighborhood, in the family.
Mrs. H, Norve, Chuck, J’s dad, Granny and her husband, the crazy man.
She said to think of all of those people.
I’m on these nerve-pain killers and antiviral and advil for the shingles.
Lots of pain, deep pain, she says that the gabepentin works for anxiety.
We talked about anxiety and I don’t have it, not like Mom, just depression.
So I was going through the list of scumballs that hurt me and did not protect me,
And I briefly transported myself back to many of the incidents.
I told her about Chuck being suck a creep, he would put a coin in his pocket and have me fish it out. He would watch us in the bathroom. He did something to me in the basement — repressing that.
So many jerks.
We had talked about Christmas and the day after, how my little sister and her husband and girls and my little brother came Christmas Day.
She asked, the good brother? I said, “My gay brother.” She said, he can be gay and good. I said, “well, I don’t know about, good.” I explained how he gave me whiplash, and how he knows how to push everyone’s buttons and she asked, he was trained by whom? I looked at her, and she asked, this is the one that you tortured with “Nobody loves you.” Yep we were rotten to him. I said, he IS a good person. He gave me a cleaver for Christmas. A big, expensive thing, looks like it belongs in Queen Elizabeth’s kitchen. I told him I can cut off my husband’s junk with it if he ever cheats on me, that is if I ever get a husband. We laughed. I suppose you can call Mark, my good brother.
Coming away from the session, I am afraid that she doesn’t like me for what I did, how we treated my brother when he was 2 — I say we, because I think my brothers and sister were also involved, but I don’t remember for sure. I remember telling him that nobody loved him and they just pretend to love him, until he would cry. And then say, we’re just kidding, everyone loves you. Why would I do that to my little brother. It was emotional abuse. I was almost 7 years older than he was. I think, how can I blame my brothers who were 5.5 years and 4 years older than me for what they did, when I shouldn’t have done that to my little brother. Can I blame the bad behavior on my impossible situation and lack of supervision. Once I saw the girl next door, out the window, slip on the ice and fall down the steps and I laughed and my mom was there, and she told me (this was in the old house, so I was ten or under), she told me that she could have really been hurt, and I wouldn’t like it if someone laughed at me. I have always remembered that, and I don’t like slap stick comedy — most comedy — any comedy where people are hurt or look hurt. If my mom was around more, that wouldn’t have gone on with my little brother, because she would have explained to me why that isn’t a good thing to do. But Mom was working, she had to work, and that is what it is. We were latch-key kids. Little to no supervision most of the time, and we did stupid things.
I don’t think Angela doesn’t like me for this, it is just my unique way of torturing myself, preparing myself for the shoe that will fall on me and crush me. It is not the same as the sexual abuse either. My brothers physically hurt me. They said things to me that made me feel stupid, unwanted, unloved, the worst of the lot of them. They cut me to the core and changed who I am and what I did with my life. I hate them. Sometimes.
I did that to my brother a few times, and it stopped before we moved. We fought growing up. I bloodied his nose in the couch once, he gave me whiplash pulling my head into the woodwork. But the emotional abuse of making him cry and then making it better again, that stopped before we moved. So I was 10. My brothers continued with me, until I was able to stop it at 13ish. My oldest brother was moved out and had his own place before it stopped. It wasn’t the same. Not really. And she isn’t saying that it was.
Ah well. Another day, another year. She asked me if I do New Year’s resolutions. No. She asked me if I had any plans. No. She asked about my house, yeah, I want to work on that.
I got Columbo, the day before yesterday. He’s awesome. I got him in with Bear, had to separate Tinny. I am thinking about putting him with Kaiah and then Bear and Tinny back together. That would probably be best.