Le sigh....

Saw my therapist this week and once again she asked me about the blogging. I told her I started it but had only gotten that far. She encouraged me to try to dig in to it so I guess I will make some sort of effort. This session was way more emotional than the last two...I imagine they are only going to get worse and I dread that. I suppose I have decided that I really want help and I really do want to change. I know that medicine change help with the biological stuff but there is way more shit going on that I let hold me hostage that has nothing to do with chemistry or biology but rather my fucking history and my clinging on to it....even typing that out makes me an anxious, nervous wreck. I don't like that feeling at all...and what do I want to do right now... go curl up in bed. Not because I am terribly physically tired but rather...it is a comfort thing...safe haven...warm spot...nothing can get me there...weird.

What do I remember about being a kid???????

Bryan,Texas....

Something was weird with my Mom but could never put my finger on it....I remember red tennis shoes. I remember my Daddy sitting me on his lap and teaching me how to tie my shoes. I must have been about 3. I remember a hispanic or black housekeeper. I remember playing outside a lot. I remember going to the hairdresser with my Mom and watching them pluck her hair through a cap to get it frosted. I remember walking across the street to the school where my sisters went and maybe my brother. I had a friend that lived across the street. I remember getting in trouble for getting my shoes wet. I don't remember much more than that.

Seguin, Texas....

Pecan trees. I remember climbing trees and the swing set in the back yard and playing in mud. The Guadalupe River ran through the back of the neighborhood had a boat ramp and it scared me if we drove near it. I had to go to day care and I hated it. I slept on a cot and they served chicken noodle soup and I missed my Mom. I just wanted my Mom. I used to think I woke up in the night standing straight up in my bed as if I rose up without bending my legs. I also remember wanting my Mom's attention. I don't know if I really did this or if a imagined doing it but it had to do with the cactus outside the door and falling back on it so I got needles all over my back that she had to pluck out. I think it was here that I started to notice my parents fighting and spending lots of time arguing in their room. I also noticed that my Mom would spank us and discipline us but if my Daddy ever tried to come to our defense she would get angry at him and they would get in a fight. So he just stayed out of her tirades. She would explode over the smallest things. The house had to be kept clean, beds made up and she made dinner and we ate together as a family. We had no choice not to eat what she made. Some things were gross but we gagged it down anyway because we would get in trouble if we didn't.

We took family vacations that always involved long drives to state parks, or museums or places that involved some kind of history. Those were fun but stressful. My Mom wasn't happy...always something seemed wrong and she was angry...or fine one minute and then furious the next....over small stuff. We never knew what might set her off. It took me years to come to understand some of her issues. We got to know her side of the family and would visit them or they would come and visit us. My Dad's side of the family however was a little different. My Dad's Mom was a big part of my life until she passed away when I was pretty young. My Mom didn't overtly put her down but now I can see where she used a very passive aggressive way of treating her as less than. The rest of my Dad's family was talked down and we were made to think they were "hicks" and "hillbilly" types and my Daddy was lucky to make it out of there and not end up like one of them.  So my Mom made it clear that her side of the family was acceptable company to keep but my Dad's...not so much. I know this was painful for my father but again...he just let her do this to him.

Victoria, Texas...

Things really started to change here. My Mom got sick for a while...and I had friends and really started to change and become my own little person. I also remember a very traumatic experience I had once when I was 7 or 8 or maybe younger. I had discovered how to masturbate in the tub with the water from the faucet. I had no idea that what I was doing would be considered wrong by anyone. All I knew was that in the stress fill environment I was living in...it felt good and made me feel relaxed. My Mom caught me and all hell broke loose. She made me feel awful and bad and really evil for what I was doing. The problem was I had a habit that I had started that was greater than what her fear and shame could stop which, along with what I would get from the church also caused me unbelievable guilt for years and years of my life. YEARS!!!! I felt dirty and disgusting and I had no idea why.

My Mom often talked to us about our "fat side" of the family... my Dad's side. She rarely bought treats for us and if she did we were not to ever take them without permission and under very special circumstances. I remember the fine art of ironing the wax paper of a package of graham crackers to make it look as no one had eaten them or shaking a box of cereal to make it appear full again. I even flat out stole frosting from the pantry and ate it in my room in shame hoping she would never notice it missing because she often bought items only to never use them before they expired. When I got older and could drive I bought snacks and ate them and hid the wrappers under the seats of my car, or in the bottom of the trash can...or threw them away before anyone could find them...because it would be shameful for anyone to know I was comforting myself with food....but I digress....

Seems like in Victoria the fights between my parents increased. I remember nights my Mom would leave and my Dad would go out looking for her....and then people started dying...and life really got weird....and we moved....again....