||[Jul. 21st, 2005|10:02 pm]
We are who we are
Just got off the phone with my therapist. We talked about my grandmother. I don't know what I'm more upset about. That I was abused or that it was by someone I still know. I think it would've been easier had it been by someone who isn't a part of my life anymore. Then it can be distant. But, instead in two weeks I'm going to be right there with her.
In a family as tight knit as mine you can't avoid one person without a really damn good reason. There are going to be BBQs and family dinners and brunches... *sigh*
OK...I just got really distracted...2 hours later...
Anyways, my therapist said that at our next session she's going to teach me how to avoid such confrontations and gave me some affirmations to work with. I don't know what I should say to my mom. I mean, I know that my grandmother did some abusive things to her. But, I'm pretty sure she doesn't see it as abuse. I know because I'm having trouble seeing it as abuse. Weird. I wouldn't push a kid down a flight of stairs. Had I heard that someone had done something like that I would say they are abusive. Had I heard that someone would tell a child they are "a little shit" I would say they are abusive. But, I'm having trouble thinking that I was abused when those things happened to me. Had I been listening to my grandmother and done what I was told she wouldn't have grabbed my arm and I wouldn't have been thrown down the stairs. Had I not been such a horrid child I wouldn't have been called mean things and been told so.
Duh! I know what this is. It's denial. And for the first time I understand it. I know that other things happened. I know it wasn't really my fault that I was thrown down the stairs (and hurt my back on the bottom step). I'm not a bad person. Though, I do feel I was a bad kid. I mean, I was difficult. I was mean to my sister and would beat on her (hmmm....wonder why?). Well, that's the only outstandingly bad thing. Everything else I did was typical kid stuff. Running in the house. Yelling. Drawing on a table. Making messes. Digging in the yard. etc. Maybe I wasn't as bad a kid as I was always told.
I was just thinking about how all of this started. With a memory of being locked in the linen closet at my grandmother's house while playing hide-n-go-seek. That's why I always thought I was claustrophobic. But, no one else remembers me being locked in there. So, I tried to remember. Then had that dream of closets. Then the fragment of a memory of a closet at the top of stairs which also turned into the closet in the hallway. But, the one I saw at the top of the stairs I remembered being in my grandmother's house. Except I'm pretty sure there isn't a closet there. I'll have to look when I go visit. Then I thought perhaps it was a cross between a closet up there in what used to be my room and another closet (the one at my old babysitter's house that I now remember hiding in when I did something wrong). Plus the fragment of a memory of a basement with a dirt floor and someone holding onto my upper arm in a rough way. Then the full memory of my grandmother holding onto my arm roughly and throwing me (not sure if by accident but she yelled at me for it anyway) down the basement stairs which did have a dirty floor (though the only part of it that had a dirt floor was a part that we were never allowed in anyways). Then the memories of my grandmother always telling my mom what a bad kid I was and how she hated to watch us. Her temper. Calling me a "little shit" and a "horrible brat" and other such things. Yelling at me for being so horrible that she had to hit me. Hiding in my babysitter's closet because she had a temperment like my grandmother though she wasn't physical about it.
Things feel like they make sense now. Problem is, I don't know what to do about it. How will I face her? How will I be able to sit down to a meal at the same table as she? (meals are a big thing in my family...a family dinner can last a few hours, most of it socializing)
Part of me wants to igore it. Just act like nothing ever happened. And another part of me wants to yell at her. Show her my arms and my multiplicity and let her see what she did. And another part of me is cautioning me. Telling me to wait till I remember everything. Afterall, she may not have caused my multiplicity. It didn't help. But, there could be something more. I mean, what of the old man?
Ah yes. The old man. The one I could only see when she was around and no one else. The old man. The one who is the reason I was brought up to believe I could see and hear spirits (still do...just know that some of what I hear isn't spirits). The one who told me it would all be alright and that he would make the badness go away for me. I don't have any alters who is an old man that I know of. But, I've only known about my multiplicity for 2 1/2 years. I do remember that one time I was able to meditate deeply and see my inner landscape really clearly there was an old man in the corner of "The Lounge". But, he's never spoken to me. I do remember I used to feel old bony fingers stroking my hair as I cried myself to sleep as a child. It's like he slowly vanished and became just another part of the scenery inside my mind. If he was ever a part of it to begin with. Perhaps he was a spirit afterall. Or maybe he was what is now the Mel Twins. There is a similar feel to them...and a feeling of truth behind it. Afterall, alters change sometimes...right?
Bah! For all I know I could be grasping at straws with that. Truth is, I don't know when in my life I had split. I hope to one day find out. But, I need to be careful that it's something I'm ready to learn. I know that more now than ever.
Wow...it's 1 am. Time for bed.