I thought that by the time I got to my age and became a granny I’d have myself pretty together. For sure, I have overcome the spikier edges of long-term trauma, but it’s only been over the last five years that I’ve started to get ‘it’, whatever the hell ‘it is.
I spent decades in therapy being angry with my misfortune. I came from an era where children were to be seen and not heard. Drunken men at family parties were not considered predators and I was thrown unsupervised into the arena from the tender age of six, handing hors d’ouvers in a too-too to these men. There was a lot of toxicity, alcohol and anger, and men were gods or often believed they were. I have no clear recollection of what may have happened to that little girl, even though I always had a looming fear that something unfortunate did, but after years of therapy, I decided to let sleeping dogs lie. However, in 1971, at the age of 15, I was drugged and molested by a family friend.
Sadly, the therapy methodology that I had for too long focused on regurgitating my past pain, only making it a stronger imprint of blame and shame on my already confused psyche.
With my neurosis unresolved, I chose relationships that reinforced my lack of self-esteem, self-love and boundaries. As a result, I stayed in a state of victimhood and anger, which kept me depressed for a long time. Regardless, I was highly functional, generally regarded as normal, maybe a little stressed and easily angered, but normal. I didn’t have time to be anything but functional. I used busy as a drug, perfectionism as the norm and projections to the past as my excuse. So I learnt to mask the overriding feeling and question - why wasn’t I happy?
When I stopped, and the busy successful mask was retired, the real depression kicked in. Antidepressants helped cloud the immediate pain but gradually, like cancer, depression spread, and I was left raw and vulnerable, alone and unable to cope. Finally, I sunk dangerously low, too low and caused immense pain to my family and shame to myself.
It’s been a slow and consistent road to rebuild and relearn. Only now, in my 60’s have I discovered a new way of being, thinking and acting, and managing my demons through a range of processes. The most successful for me is Quantums which is a process to change the neural pathways in your brain by symbolically washing a negative belief then replacing it with the positive by tapping and repetition. The positive replacements said often enough will make the brain believe these positive thoughts.
In the beginning, I didn’t notice any change and was frustrated and complained to my therapist. But I persisted and focused and committed to doing it regularly. Finally, after about three months of feeling frustrated, I started to notice changes in my behaviour. My extreme reactions started to soften, I didn’t flare up as quickly, I had a greater capacity for compassion, and I felt calmer and kinder towards myself and others. Still, a long way to go, but I now knew it worked and was well on the road to being a more consistently happier, self-confident version of myself.
There’s no cure for being who we are. There are no reasons why shit happens to some of us. But none of us really escapes the humaneness of being human. The frailty and imperfections that are endemic to our breed. It’s how we function and grow through these imperfections that make us evolve into the person we want to be. In my case, I want to be courageous, vulnerable and authentic, even if I experience embarrassment, shame and a lot of sadness.
I hope if I share my stories, it may help others to understand a little of theirs. So jump with me down the rabbit hole and see what adventures we can have together.
Hugs
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