I feel like after forever of really not trying to actively heal, I have hit a crisis point, a sort of like the emergency stage that Ellen Bass talks about in her book Courage to Heal. I feel like the abuse is all I can think about; I live it, breathe it, sleep it.
It started a little while ago. The breakup of my relationship, knowledge of the imminent end to my therapy, and New Year all played a big part. I feel like I’ve been hibernating and suddenly I am gasping for air once again, and the abuse is one single thing I can think about.
I pulled out my two books, Courage to Heal, and Rescuing the Inner Child. I devour the words and try get consolation. I Googled “effects of abuse” which I wrote about last. I cry at work. I cry at home. When I went to therapy this week the abuse was the only thing on my mind yet I chose to talk about other things. It is so fucking hard to bring it up!! I don’t even know where to start; it’s like, there has to be a thread to it from another tale but I haven’t figured it out yet.
I am going mental. Really. I was so upset at work yesterday, I cried a few times, I was in a daze, it felt like nothing mattered. At the same time, I have applied for a transfer to another IT department where I’d suddenly have more responsibilities, and the thought hit me that once again I’d have to brush the abuse under the carpet as a lot more would be demanded from me so I wouldn’t have time or energy to “do abuse”.
I received my medical history from Finland. I have these heart palpitations problems now and so I’d emailed the medical services in my hometown asking for my medical history to be sent over.
Papers came, but they only covered my treatment for anorexia. I read, wallowed, cried, and felt very sad for that little 16 -year-old that was confused, angry and hated herself to the extent that she starved herself. I read that I was 165cm tall and weighted 42kg at one point. I had kept lying to doctors about how much I ate and they knew I was lying.
It was heartbreaking to read that, but I did it. I lifted the veil of secrecy and denial in my life, and attempted to connect with that girl. The psychologist had last written, “M came to see me saying she is moving to England. This is her last visit. She is scared that she won’t make it, but doesn’t want to stay in Finland. She feels she would continue therapy were she not going, but she is determined to leave.”
I don’t even remember being in therapy then! The things that I have pushed out of my mind. I was crying; I wish I had stayed, maybe I would have continued therapy and been much better, instead of spending the last 10 years depressed, bitter and angry.
But I quit the therapy, I had left, I came to England, and here I still am. Ten years later. As depressed and sad and confused as ever. I read in my notes that I’d been diagnosed with an Adolescent Emotional Disturbance (whatever that means), heart difficulties and anxiety because of bulimia, and amenorrhea secondaria (lost my period because of the anorexia).
And I have started getting flashbacks again! I am not going into detail, but something happened last night and the flashback came like a lightning from a blue sky. It made me cry, it made me sad, it made me feel alone and empty inside, but I survived, and I’m still surviving.
I am going on a work trip on Saturday and I’m dreading it – a new country, having to pretend, no therapy next week, being alone among strangers….But I will survive.