Trapped
I started reading "The Courage To Change Workbook" by Laura Davis today. I feel trapped. I got to the first page of section one, where it says
OK, I'm not despondent or suicidal or anything like that. I had a good day today with my family. This point blank "rest of our lives" stuff makes me wish there were some other way. I want my magic pill!
This isn't more talk about recovery or getting anything back. This is facing up to the fact that I will never be done with this. It's not so much what the bastard took as what he did that I can't undo. Ever.
I think I feel sad about this. Gee, how perceptive of me. I can actually think I have some clue what I feel.
This post is going nowhere in a big hurry. I'm lazy, and I have a lot of work in front of me. That's the bottom line, that's why I'm whining.
I tell myself, "Look on the bright side. This means that things will get better and better for the rest of my life." Somehow, that's a pretty cold comfort at the moment (besides being overly naive). There's this sense that something enormous is.... missing? gone? I don't know. There's just a sense that continually getting better doesn't make up for whatever it is that's bothering me so much about that idea, "process that takes a lifetime." Maybe I had other plans for a lifetime. I only get one, and maybe I didn't want to spend it numbing, acting out, and recovering from sexual abuse. And maybe it doesn't make a damn bit of difference what I wanted.
Usually I would keep something like this on my hard drive but I haven't found a male survivor group yet. The literature for the 12 step groups talks about taking stuff that's too much for group meetings to your sponsor. I know it works for a lot of other people, but I don't have a sponsor for any 12 Step group. Last time didn't work out real well for me, so you guys here get to be my "sponsor." Or not, I just need to vent.
Dammit, the "unfairness" is killing me today. Here's my sense of injustice in the definition of abuse. It was wrong; I didn't deserve it; and that knowledge and $1.00 will get me another cup of coffee.
Not really as down as he writes,
Joe
I feel trapped between the memories that I can't ignore anymore, and the idea that I'm in this for life.Over the years, I've come to realize that healing is, in fact, a process that takes a lifetime. As survivors, we need to settle in for the long haul. It's a process that continues for the rest of our lives.
OK, I'm not despondent or suicidal or anything like that. I had a good day today with my family. This point blank "rest of our lives" stuff makes me wish there were some other way. I want my magic pill!
This isn't more talk about recovery or getting anything back. This is facing up to the fact that I will never be done with this. It's not so much what the bastard took as what he did that I can't undo. Ever.
I think I feel sad about this. Gee, how perceptive of me. I can actually think I have some clue what I feel.
This post is going nowhere in a big hurry. I'm lazy, and I have a lot of work in front of me. That's the bottom line, that's why I'm whining.
I tell myself, "Look on the bright side. This means that things will get better and better for the rest of my life." Somehow, that's a pretty cold comfort at the moment (besides being overly naive). There's this sense that something enormous is.... missing? gone? I don't know. There's just a sense that continually getting better doesn't make up for whatever it is that's bothering me so much about that idea, "process that takes a lifetime." Maybe I had other plans for a lifetime. I only get one, and maybe I didn't want to spend it numbing, acting out, and recovering from sexual abuse. And maybe it doesn't make a damn bit of difference what I wanted.
Usually I would keep something like this on my hard drive but I haven't found a male survivor group yet. The literature for the 12 step groups talks about taking stuff that's too much for group meetings to your sponsor. I know it works for a lot of other people, but I don't have a sponsor for any 12 Step group. Last time didn't work out real well for me, so you guys here get to be my "sponsor." Or not, I just need to vent.
Dammit, the "unfairness" is killing me today. Here's my sense of injustice in the definition of abuse. It was wrong; I didn't deserve it; and that knowledge and $1.00 will get me another cup of coffee.
Not really as down as he writes,
Joe