the next step *TRIGGER*
I feel pretty good this morning. The doc and I decided to back my therapy down to every other week. I have gained enough insight that usually if I talk here I can figure things out when they start going wrong. The swings from high to low are fading, and I tend to be more stable, and my thoughts are turning from dealing with things to where do I go from here.
At forty, I feel a bit old to return to college, but I am leaning more and more toward it. My job just doesnt fulfill me anymore, and I would like to get a degree in social work, so that I can work with abuse victims. My aunt, who helped raise me, offered to help me pay for the classes, and it feels like I would really be missing out if I didnt take her up on it. I feel I have a chance to do something that counts, that can really help people, and I think Im going to take it.
I still have work to do on my recovery too, but I think that will go on forever now. I have concluded we are all a work in progress, whether we were abused or not. Anyone who wants more for themselves than simply making it is driven to constantly improve and strive.
I was dreading this time, the time where I had matured enough to face my family. I grew up believing that you didnt question God, and you didnt question your parents. They were so far beyond me that I couldnt understand them, and I certainly couldnt second guess them. The idea of sitting my parents down, and saying you failed me is the hardest thing I have ever faced. Finally, I guess it is maturity, but I am at the point where I have to ask the hard questions, where I question why God is the way He is, and why my parents did what they did. It feels wrong. Its upsetting and frightening, but I know it is what I must do.
My next step seems to be to confront my brother. He was my shadow growing up. I couldnt get away from him long enough to act out, so I included him from the start. He was there when I took Jean into the closet. He took a turn with her too. He was there for Cheryl, Donnie and Michele.
I see him depressed. I see him with a failed marriage. I see his life in a total shamble. Do you know what it is like to think that I have caused all of it? I have to live knowing I drug him right into the middle of all of this, that I alone did it. Sure, I understand that the ultimate responsibility lies with Mat, my abuser, but Mat didnt show Kevin how to lick a girl. I did that. I know I didnt know any better, that I was only passing on what was taught to me, but I was the tool. I alone brought him into my world, and I alone must live with it. Mat doesnt even know Kevin exists, as far as I know. Certainly, he isnt grieving over it. I am. I alone carry the weight.
Kevin and I have always been tight. I have to believe we will be okay, even after I face him. Then he can validate what happened to my parents, or that is how I am hoping it goes. Sure, I realize he might have repressed it. He might deny it outright. He might not want to connect it to all his struggles, and perhaps it doesnt affect him like it does me. Only he can answer that, and it is time I talked to him. At last I feel strong enough to.
At forty, I feel a bit old to return to college, but I am leaning more and more toward it. My job just doesnt fulfill me anymore, and I would like to get a degree in social work, so that I can work with abuse victims. My aunt, who helped raise me, offered to help me pay for the classes, and it feels like I would really be missing out if I didnt take her up on it. I feel I have a chance to do something that counts, that can really help people, and I think Im going to take it.
I still have work to do on my recovery too, but I think that will go on forever now. I have concluded we are all a work in progress, whether we were abused or not. Anyone who wants more for themselves than simply making it is driven to constantly improve and strive.
I was dreading this time, the time where I had matured enough to face my family. I grew up believing that you didnt question God, and you didnt question your parents. They were so far beyond me that I couldnt understand them, and I certainly couldnt second guess them. The idea of sitting my parents down, and saying you failed me is the hardest thing I have ever faced. Finally, I guess it is maturity, but I am at the point where I have to ask the hard questions, where I question why God is the way He is, and why my parents did what they did. It feels wrong. Its upsetting and frightening, but I know it is what I must do.
My next step seems to be to confront my brother. He was my shadow growing up. I couldnt get away from him long enough to act out, so I included him from the start. He was there when I took Jean into the closet. He took a turn with her too. He was there for Cheryl, Donnie and Michele.
I see him depressed. I see him with a failed marriage. I see his life in a total shamble. Do you know what it is like to think that I have caused all of it? I have to live knowing I drug him right into the middle of all of this, that I alone did it. Sure, I understand that the ultimate responsibility lies with Mat, my abuser, but Mat didnt show Kevin how to lick a girl. I did that. I know I didnt know any better, that I was only passing on what was taught to me, but I was the tool. I alone brought him into my world, and I alone must live with it. Mat doesnt even know Kevin exists, as far as I know. Certainly, he isnt grieving over it. I am. I alone carry the weight.
Kevin and I have always been tight. I have to believe we will be okay, even after I face him. Then he can validate what happened to my parents, or that is how I am hoping it goes. Sure, I realize he might have repressed it. He might deny it outright. He might not want to connect it to all his struggles, and perhaps it doesnt affect him like it does me. Only he can answer that, and it is time I talked to him. At last I feel strong enough to.
