words that hit home for me/self-medicating

[bec]

hello men:

i found the following line in a reply to a recent post on this board. it was by DWF and i am paraphrasing:

"it is terrible when the substances/acts we use to deal with our pain turn on us and doing them brings us pain now instead of relief."

i list this because i believe this may be happening to me. i think i am in the place in my life where my old self-medicating behaviors/the things i have long used to cope with my pain may be losing their effectiveness. they just dont seem to work the way they did for many years.

for me it was often obsessive eating and masturbating to fantasy/pornography that would help me with my pain. pain that i was not able to deal with in a healthier way. i miss the old self-meds. but, in this life one thing that is certain is 'change'. that is all men. sincerely,


bec

 

[RICK57]

Bec - maybe it's because you now realise that all of those things were as you say methods of dealing with the pain. Did you know what the pain was when you used those methods, or was it buried.

I know that since my pain has risen to the surface, my coping methods have become different.
Hope this helps, or at least is another line of thought.

Best wishes ..Rik

 

[ForeverFighting]

i miss the old self-meds.

I'm sure that's why I still have the fight. In a home where everybody's cold, there's no comfort, no heartfelt anything, the old fantasies kept me alive. Even if they were probably ways of perpetuating the abuse. The most difficult thing I ever dealt with in therapy was that when I was being abused, that was the only physical contact I had. In a sick way, I bonded with the monster. Human contact was necessary, but terribly unsafe, so I turned inside.

When I feel my parents' lack of feeling rearing its head in my own personality, I break for the monster in order to feel. And in another sick way, I understand what you're saying. I miss that part of me that was bold and rebellious. Living with that self-righteous band of sickos, the MB and the porn were all I had. I was very close to DID, so that part of me actually became my friend, an abuser, but a friend who demanded that I feel.

What a mess is the mind. How bad does a family have to be for a boy to bond with his perverted, demonic uncle just because it's physical contact of some kind? Abuse wasn't an event. It was a way of life.

And now I'm trying to get rid of "friend", this piece that stayed with me all those years. The one who would love and comfort me in inappropriate ways. And it's scary out here. I have to deal with real people, let real people see who I really am--all of the kid's fantasies that lasted way too long are having to come down.

I wish you well, bec. And as I'm trying to convince myself, the real friends are out here.