Recovering is Tough, Hard Work
This is the third or fourth time I've visited this site in the last 24 hours. Seeing the names of the guys who love me and support me in my efforts at overcoming sexual abuse and reading of their struggles and victories and their jokes helps me feel less alone.
This week I have once again been shown how very difficult the work of recovering from sexual abuse can be.
I've come here 3 or 4 times and each time decided not to post---I'm back now and forcing myself to write because I know from past experience that sharing my feelings is one way of finding my way out of the prison they can turn in to. That a burden shared is less by half.
I was blessed and/or cursed with a pretty good intellect. Through therapy and lots of work on staying sober and recovering from alcoholism I have gained a lot of awareness and understanding about how sexual abuse fucked up my life.
Now recently, within the last week, I have experienced the feelings associated with that intellectual understanding.
Up until now I UNDERSTOOD that I had feelings of anger, shame and sadness. This week I began to HAVE THE EXPERIENCE OF THE FEELINGS ALONG WITH THE UNDERSTANDING.
And the experience has been so hard.
Last week during a group session I finally was able to express my grief and my anger. Several guys in the group were very upset. Several also spoke of leaving the group. One of them told me that I was being abusive.
I was vocal. I raised my voice. I vigorously expressed my anger. I told the group how I felt that they were belittling me and shaming me for expressing myself and giving voice to my sorrow and anger. I never touched anyone or threatened anyone. The therapist was in the room all the time, monitoring the group and intervening when necessary.
For just a few minutes, I let go of all those nice societal controls, the coping mechanisms that have allowed me to shove my feelings down. I let the lid off of some long buried resentment.
Like opening up a neglected, festering wound the experience was painful for me and evidently very disgusting for those in the room with me. To their credit, they remained in the room.
This week I got to go back to the same group of guys. The anxiety I felt was intense. I thanked them all for staying in the room with me while I gave vent to my emotions the previous week.
I described somewhat the "emotional hangover" I had expreienced. Then I listened for the nour and a half as they discussed me, my feelings and their reactions to the whole deal.
Many said that my feelings had made them feel "unsafe". That hurt. I am a very compassionate, loving person and to think that others believed me "unsafe" is painful.
It is so very difficult. I did not apologize for what had happened. I am certain that my grouup therapy is exactly the place to do what I did.
I did speak of how I thought of myself as being a valuable, dependable, hard working member of the group. And then I listened. Allowing others the respect they showed me, I stayed in the room as they expressed their fear, disappointment and distrust of me.
It's just what I always imagined would happen if I ever dared show the people in my life how I felt, what was happening to me. About being attracted to men, about being sexually abused.
One of the long term group members, also the one who called me abusive, announced that he could not remain in the group with me and that he was leaving.
I could only think of all the heartache I have felt over the years imagining that my own father had left me because I did not behave properly. That his abandonment of me and my family was because of me and my behavior.
I understand factually that this is not true. But at the level of feeling it hurts and feels like a certain desperate truth.
So I got to have that sort of primal experience only this time in real time instead of just over and over in my head. This time as an adult. This time not alone. This time with resources. This time with men who love me and support and don't go away because I am too much for them to handle.
I am sure that this represents a tremendous bit of work in healing for me. My therapist assures me that it is so. I do not regret.
But goddamn it, it is so hard. This morning I feel terrible. Physically, mentally and psychologically beaten, headache, sorrow, confused and sad.
The guy leaving the group "because of me" (see I know it's not becasue of me, but it feels like it is) is my dad leaving me again. After that my mother died and I got sexually abused and then came the alcoholism and the self loathing and etc. etc.
I'm trying to let my intellect rest for a while and simply absorb the emotional impact of this latest chapter in my recovery. Instead of mentally parsing out the meaning, I'm letting the meaning absord and pass through me, be a part of me, but not all of me.
No rationalization, minimization, coping mechanisms or taking it out on others.
I am feeling these emotions because they are mine.
I'm not mad, glad, sad etc. AT anyone.
I just am.
One good thing, it is made clear to me once again how very hard this stuff is. It gives me a measure of forgiveness for myself when I berate myself for all the years I refused to deal with the emotional fall out of the abuse and instead retreated into alcohol and drugs.
No wonder we don't want to have to do this. It hurts, it's hard, it's so very difficult.
Right now I'm trying to shed some of this heaviness that seems to have invaded my limbs. Holding me down, pinning me to my chair. Glancing outside to remind myself that the reality of life is in the life and growth all around me and that I am a part of it.
I'm writing about this here so that others who may someday find the need to express long repressed emotions will know that it is possible to do so and to survive. I did not explode in a million pieces, all my friends did not leave me.
Out of 6 guys in the group, only one says he is leaving and someone else observed that he already had one foot out the door.
I'm here, I've got a terrific emotional, spiritual hangover.
I appreciate being able to come here and write even if I don't make much sense.
I'm listening to the soundtrack to "Hair"....a little time-travel via music will be good.
I'm going to be very gentle with myself today. I'm going to get my haircut today and go to an AA meeting tonight.
My black-eyed peas planted a week ago when all of this first started to unfold, are all up and growing. There is hope for them
And hope for me. And you too whoever you are.
Thanks all,
This week I have once again been shown how very difficult the work of recovering from sexual abuse can be.
I've come here 3 or 4 times and each time decided not to post---I'm back now and forcing myself to write because I know from past experience that sharing my feelings is one way of finding my way out of the prison they can turn in to. That a burden shared is less by half.
I was blessed and/or cursed with a pretty good intellect. Through therapy and lots of work on staying sober and recovering from alcoholism I have gained a lot of awareness and understanding about how sexual abuse fucked up my life.
Now recently, within the last week, I have experienced the feelings associated with that intellectual understanding.
Up until now I UNDERSTOOD that I had feelings of anger, shame and sadness. This week I began to HAVE THE EXPERIENCE OF THE FEELINGS ALONG WITH THE UNDERSTANDING.
And the experience has been so hard.
Last week during a group session I finally was able to express my grief and my anger. Several guys in the group were very upset. Several also spoke of leaving the group. One of them told me that I was being abusive.
I was vocal. I raised my voice. I vigorously expressed my anger. I told the group how I felt that they were belittling me and shaming me for expressing myself and giving voice to my sorrow and anger. I never touched anyone or threatened anyone. The therapist was in the room all the time, monitoring the group and intervening when necessary.
For just a few minutes, I let go of all those nice societal controls, the coping mechanisms that have allowed me to shove my feelings down. I let the lid off of some long buried resentment.
Like opening up a neglected, festering wound the experience was painful for me and evidently very disgusting for those in the room with me. To their credit, they remained in the room.
This week I got to go back to the same group of guys. The anxiety I felt was intense. I thanked them all for staying in the room with me while I gave vent to my emotions the previous week.
I described somewhat the "emotional hangover" I had expreienced. Then I listened for the nour and a half as they discussed me, my feelings and their reactions to the whole deal.
Many said that my feelings had made them feel "unsafe". That hurt. I am a very compassionate, loving person and to think that others believed me "unsafe" is painful.
It is so very difficult. I did not apologize for what had happened. I am certain that my grouup therapy is exactly the place to do what I did.
I did speak of how I thought of myself as being a valuable, dependable, hard working member of the group. And then I listened. Allowing others the respect they showed me, I stayed in the room as they expressed their fear, disappointment and distrust of me.
It's just what I always imagined would happen if I ever dared show the people in my life how I felt, what was happening to me. About being attracted to men, about being sexually abused.
One of the long term group members, also the one who called me abusive, announced that he could not remain in the group with me and that he was leaving.
I could only think of all the heartache I have felt over the years imagining that my own father had left me because I did not behave properly. That his abandonment of me and my family was because of me and my behavior.
I understand factually that this is not true. But at the level of feeling it hurts and feels like a certain desperate truth.
So I got to have that sort of primal experience only this time in real time instead of just over and over in my head. This time as an adult. This time not alone. This time with resources. This time with men who love me and support and don't go away because I am too much for them to handle.
I am sure that this represents a tremendous bit of work in healing for me. My therapist assures me that it is so. I do not regret.
But goddamn it, it is so hard. This morning I feel terrible. Physically, mentally and psychologically beaten, headache, sorrow, confused and sad.
The guy leaving the group "because of me" (see I know it's not becasue of me, but it feels like it is) is my dad leaving me again. After that my mother died and I got sexually abused and then came the alcoholism and the self loathing and etc. etc.
I'm trying to let my intellect rest for a while and simply absorb the emotional impact of this latest chapter in my recovery. Instead of mentally parsing out the meaning, I'm letting the meaning absord and pass through me, be a part of me, but not all of me.
No rationalization, minimization, coping mechanisms or taking it out on others.
I am feeling these emotions because they are mine.
I'm not mad, glad, sad etc. AT anyone.
I just am.
One good thing, it is made clear to me once again how very hard this stuff is. It gives me a measure of forgiveness for myself when I berate myself for all the years I refused to deal with the emotional fall out of the abuse and instead retreated into alcohol and drugs.
No wonder we don't want to have to do this. It hurts, it's hard, it's so very difficult.
Right now I'm trying to shed some of this heaviness that seems to have invaded my limbs. Holding me down, pinning me to my chair. Glancing outside to remind myself that the reality of life is in the life and growth all around me and that I am a part of it.
I'm writing about this here so that others who may someday find the need to express long repressed emotions will know that it is possible to do so and to survive. I did not explode in a million pieces, all my friends did not leave me.
Out of 6 guys in the group, only one says he is leaving and someone else observed that he already had one foot out the door.
I'm here, I've got a terrific emotional, spiritual hangover.
I appreciate being able to come here and write even if I don't make much sense.
I'm listening to the soundtrack to "Hair"....a little time-travel via music will be good.
I'm going to be very gentle with myself today. I'm going to get my haircut today and go to an AA meeting tonight.
My black-eyed peas planted a week ago when all of this first started to unfold, are all up and growing. There is hope for them
And hope for me. And you too whoever you are.
Thanks all,
