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on the homefront

Caged-Owl-630x420

I’m trying to figure out where I am today, how I’m doing (yup, my favourite question. SARCASTICALLY speaking).

I looked at places to rent this morning. Moving in here after having moved just 2 months earlier, and with such an extensive history of transiency and instability on the HOME front; my nesting instinct flooded me, and my bank account. It was like it had been repressed for so long that it all came flooding out of me. I toured second hand shops, bought little statues and decorative items for the deck and the garden and the walls here. I spent an entire week repairing the walls in my room, and painting it, including the french doors, all the trim, the walls and the ceiling.

It was 2 months of bliss with the one roommate I began with here — I’ll call her L. We were a recovery household. Our friends mixed brilliantly, and began to drop by regularly. Our lifestyles flowed so effortlessly and naturally together, we barely even had to think about it. We began creating a culture of authenticity in every moment. We prayed together, and shared with and witnessed each other deeply on a daily basis.

Our third roommate — I’ll call her E — came to us serendipitously through a friend of mine. She spoke the language of circle and spirit, and all of us felt a great ‘yes’ at the thought of her being here. We met a couple of times before making the final decision, and then she moved in.

How I didn’t see it coming is a mystery to me indeed. I feel dismayed. I don’t know if I’ve ever felt so unsafe, and so much hatred and resentment towards a person. Not a pretty side of me is coming out in this situation. Part of me is angry and hurt, part of me is terrified, and part of me is deeply ashamed of how I am feeling. I want her gone. Just the thought of her and my body tenses, my cortisol surges, my heart beats a little faster.

If I am really honest, I feel that all her spirituality and wisdom are a crock of shit. She presents herself as a great healer, and an elder, connected to ceremony and the ways of the First Nations People here. And yet … my experience so far (the story in my mind) is that there is zero vulnerability with this woman. Zero openness to others’ truth and wisdom. She thinks psychotherapy is useless and a waste of time, doesn’t believe in labels or using mental illness as an excuse for a ‘lack of respect’ with regards to relating and house work. She looks down on 12-step recovery work, saying it’s “A good base,” and has expressed that she does not want to be doing “emotional processing” with her housemates.

L sees these things, but is somehow not triggered by them. L has been enjoying E’s company and wisdom, and making long-term plans with her. The connection between L and I has become almost none-existent. We do not have authentic sharing and witnessing around the house any more, unless I ask for it specifically.
Three days ago, I got to the point of ‘her or me,’ (which I have since backed down from), and shared everything with L. It was a hard conversation, but our recovery and NVC skills got us through with shining colours — except that L remained with her ‘hands tied’, saying to me, “Well, I would be so, so sorry to see you go.”

I have been moving in and out of the place of action: This is an unsafe and unhealthy situation and I guess I need to move / I need to communicate … what the fuck to I say in this situation. Ah! … and … getting lulled into a false sense of ‘everything’s fine.’ No one is yelling, and we can all make this work, and there is no way in hell I am going to rock the boat, or rain on anyone’s parade with my little feelings over here. I can just go along in my own little world, and still enjoy this beautiful house on the river, with the beautiful yard and swimming hole, gardens, fire pit, private deck and gazebo. Just avoid the conflct; pretend it isn’t there, trust that the Universe is working it out, stay open — maybe I’m just not seeing this person’s true heart; maybe it’s all a big misunderstanding; — invite her out berry picking, give her a ride, ask her about First Nations traditions, join in the ‘big happy family vibe’ that is between her and L. Don’t be such a downer! Just go with the flow. Think positively.

Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhkkkkkk.

I wish I could just disappear. I feel there is the potential for me to be back at the place of needing to move AGAIN, feeling humiliated and hopeless, lost and alone in the world. This is what having to move again would do to me. I don’t know if I can survive another move. The chaos, the disruption, the fear of having it not work out AGAIN.

Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhkkkkkk.

So, although I am not crying or raging or acting out; like a true internal bpd, I am deeply upset inside, and not showing any of it on the outside. It is bottling up inside me. I feel paralized, drugged almost, avoiding the panic that ensues when I acknowledge how I am feeling. Stuffing it so no one, including me, has to feel uncomfortable. The silent, invisible cage.

Tomorrow, I am supposed to be taking E berry picking. I don’t want to; I want to pull out, and I want to tell her why — not in a confrontational way, but in the way that gets the octipus out from under the table. I would feel so much safer if it were acknowledged and out in the open that there are hard feelings between E and me, and that spending time alone together is not very comfortable right now.

I don’t know how to make this happen. I don’t know if I should cancel. If I should make up a different excuse, and be polite and tactful about it.

I don’t know how to honour how I am feeling right now, and not feel like I am hiding it, living with a secret, again.

And so, that’s where I’m at today. I don’t want to admit how much this situation is bothering me, but it is.

Thanks for reading. Love.

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the silenced inner scape

Isolation

Isolation (Photo credit: lovingyourwork.com)

the terror i felt at the feeling
that no one took the inner
side of me seriously
and no one ever would
no one even saw it
no one ever responded

my inner reactions are wrong
they are not real

beyond the defectiveness
and unloveability
and fortotten-ness
beyond the abandon-ness
and hopelessness
there was a silent, deafening
physically threatening
invisible terror

i learned to pretend it wasn't there
and do greatness at all costs
my greatness was pretended
even in crisis
even when i was abused
even when i was suicidal

such shocking aloneness
i have known


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timid child

INNOCENCE/GUILT

INNOCENCE/GUILT (Photo credit: ~fyrfli~)

timid child
so much fear i've been living with
feeling unsafe and doing it anyway
so much energy that took, for so long
trying to have courage
think positively
don't listen to the darkness
you can do anything
you're special.


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The Three Factors of Loneliness | The Emotionally Sensitive Person

The Three Factors of Loneliness | The Emotionally Sensitive Person

by Karyn Hall, PhD, at Psych Central

I simplified the wording of the actual three factors:

  1. Level of vulnerability to social disconnection.
  2. Ability to regulate the emotions associated with feeling isolated.
  3. Mental representations, expectations and reasoning of/about others.

My favourite paragraph:

Sometimes lonely people have difficulty because they view themselves as inadequate or unworthy. Shame about who you are will block making connections with others.


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letting the ghosts out of the closet

photo by Sean McGrath via Creative Commons
photo by Sean McGrath via Creative Commons

The root of my dis-ease is that no on admitted to seeing the ghosts in my closet, the “heads on my table“.

I’m confused on whether or not they’re even real, and this disturbs my sense of confidence and well-being in the world.

When I name a ghost, it flies out of the closet and re-integrates. It is the seeing and naming that is the work.


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snippets of today

One: feeling the unfelt feelings of previous dissociations. there is more to my step four. I became aware of this while down island this week, in a city that has lots of past times for me.  I was feeling all the feelings I hadn’t felt when i was living there. Even just a mundane memory of walking down the street was painful because i was feeling what i was dissociated from feeling at the time. the degree of loneliness, sadness and simultaneous pressure and anxiety was almost unbearable; but at the time, I unfortunately survived by not feeling it, not recognizing it for what it was, thinking everyone felt this way, thinking it would go away if i didn’t look at it, and just kept moving. thinking no one knew when i covered it up. all the times i covered it up; i need to admit these to myself. all the times i betrayed, sabotaged and isolated myself by not being honest about what i was feeling. there is shame there, and a few dozen truckloads of sorrow.

Two: being alone for thanksgiving, not wanting to spend time with Mom.  staying focused on making some food, freezing some food, re-organizing closets, relaxing, catching up with a few long-distance friends. keeping my days balanced. it’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay. i don’t have to freak out that its a holiday and everyone else is living life as a family, and I am living life alone.   stay in the moment. participate in the celebration in my own way, any way, despite not having a family. i am still valid and worthy of love.

[Image courtesy of arquazuarma]