I don’t want to hurt anymore 

Please be safe if you read this post. I was very blunt about eating disordered behavior, self injury, and sex. I’m a mess right now, and this post is a whole lot of crazy dumped into one place

I’m not okay. I want to be okay, I’m in this trying to act like it’s all fine place, but I’m not okay. I am absolutely, 100% not okay. 

I spent the weekend….(well, really it started when Kay informed me that I don’t exist for her any more)………in bulimia land. Binge. Barf. Stuff my face. Eat crap I NEVER eat. I ate 17 mini Reese’s eggs. Seventeen. And then I threw them up. Later, it was tacos with cheese. And pizza. And French fries. 53 French fries. Muffins. Ice cream. 3 mini ice cream cones. A blizzard from DQ another day. Chips. Fried cheese sticks. More French fries. 46 this time. Eat. Barf. Binge. Purge. I’m gross. I feel gross. I’m ready to swing the other way, to the no eating at all and being a control freak. Because I can’t keep doing this. I’m gross.

I had sex with my husband. 3 nights in a row. I wanted comfort, I wanted him to love me, I wanted to feel, for even just a moment, that someone in my life wants me and isn’t going to leave. So, I instigated things by a real kiss. And when he kissed back, that slutty little girl/teenager part took over. I was so far gone it’s like it wasn’t me. I felt like I was sitting somewhere behind myself. So far gone, it was fine. No freak outs in the middle of the act. I was fine. Until I wasn’t. But that was okay, because after he went to sleep, I simply added a few new slices to my body, and then I was okay again. Except I’m not okay at all. 

My daughter has been making her dolls play “kissing games”, pretending to be pregnant and to have her baby be “born” and she told me this weekend that her private area felt moist and steamy. I was already so triggered by her play, the use of the phrase “kissing game”. It doesn’t matter that Bea assured me it was normal and healthy play. It is triggering and scary and I struggle with that. And then, she says that. And I couldn’t breathe or think. When I didn’t respond, she told me “not to worry because it feels nice”. Oh my god. I want to die. Or throw up. Maybe both. And hubby realized something was wrong, so he set her up playing video games, and I stayed frozen, stuck in my own head, physical memories attacking me. 

When I finally could move, I hid in the bath tub. No, first I ate ice cream and tacos. Then used the running water to cover the barfing sounds. Then I took a bath, used my razor to cut some more, and proceeded to hide in my bed, dissociated and staring at nothing. When hubby came to bed, I kissed him, stripped off my clothes and went far away, except to know that he was there and wanted me. I’m disgusting. What is wrong with me? Why can’t I just be normal? And of course neither of us mentioned my frozen no talking freak out earlier in the day, and he never even asked what happened. 

I texted Rory several times this weekend, either just saying hello, or checking that she still wasn’t mad at me. We made plans for a weekend away together. I don’t want a weekend away. I want to leave my life. I want to pack up my car and disappear. They’d all be better off without me. 

I emailed Bea. I told her I was a mess, that I was being bad, that I felt bad and wrong for bothering her on her vacation, that I didn’t know why I was even bothering to email. She wrote back, telling me it seems like I need a secure base, that it’s okay and everyone needs that, and she said she was here. But then in her second email, she said  that I’m not out of line (oh my gosh. Out of line. Does this mean I’m close to being out of line? Or have been before? Or she expects I will be? I feel like a kid that just got reprimanded) and that it was fine to bother (and what does that mean? Is she just using my language, or am I a bother? Does she mean I do bother– annoy, bug, make her wish I would leave her alone– her, but it’s okay that I do so? Or that I’m not a bother? What does that mean?) her although it may take her longer to respond to emails. And I emailed her back —–even though a lot of her wording felt bad and cold and scary, I emailed back and tried to reach out again, because I very well might have been reading it wrong, or who knows—– about the triggery mess the day was yesterday, and about being mad at Kay for just leaving me. She said it was okay to be mad at Kay. And that she hoped I had been able to shake this yucky feeling. I told her how I feel like a 32 year old woman behaving like a 5 year old child, how I am instigating things with hubby, how I have been in bulimia land all weekend, and maybe I just want her to know how bad I am being to test her to see if she will stick around even when I’m being bad, I told her I felt lost and like I can’t trust anyone, and this sense that everyone is going to leave, that I was so stupid to think otherwise. I dumped an awful lot of my freak out into that last email. And then she responded. And it seems I have hit her limit for having compassion for my neediness, for wanting to be there for me, for being able to validate my feelings, to be a secure base and to help me be able to maintain trust in her. I think she’s done. I hit her limit, like I knew I would, and now, she is all gone too. He email was cold and shrinky and it didn’t sound like her. It sounded like a shrink wrote it, like a standard, fill in the blank response. 

This is my fault. I present myself as this normal, together person. I’m so afraid of people knowing I have trust issues (and honestly this was so second nature to me I didn’t even know I did it until like a year into therapy) that I react with the amount of trust I think a normal person would have. So, if a regular girl would trust her good friend this particular amount, that is what I portray. But inside, I’m freaking out, and I trust nothing. And I did the same thing in therapy. I trusted Bea as much as I thought I should. I also kept a lid on all my reactions to her for a long time– anything she said that hurt my feelings, made me mad, made me feel like she didn’t get me, or didn’t care, or really wasn’t going to be there, I kept it to myself. Oh, I wrote about it, I even wrote her emails that I never sent. But I was not about to let her know the depth of my crazy. And while I have gotten better, recently, at being honest and even emailing after the fact to say that something she said hurt my feelings or made me worried, I still don’t let her know the depth of the crazy in me. Because, oh my gosh, if she knew how alone I feel and how much I worry about trusting her, and second guess everything she says, and how I so easily feel left and triggered over nothing (seriously nothing), she would declare me too crazy and too broken to work with and she would leave. 

And I spent the morning today with migraine. I was irritable, and not able to tolerate anything. I literally wanted to hide in my closet and never see or speak to another person again. I wanted d to run away, and never acknowledge my past life. I thought about downing a bottle of pills chased with a bottle of wine. So, then I did some sewing. It was as close to coping skills as I could access. I have been sewing for Kat’s (and mine) American Girl dolls. I think the little girl part of me really likes making things for the dolls, setting up the doll stuff, dressing them, and styling their hair. It’s a good thing for the little girl, and it’s a distracting activity that can keep me somewhat calm feeling for hours. But then Kat came home from school, and it was just her and I all day. And I yelled at her. I don’t mean I yelled because she did something bad. I mean I just yelled. I yelled because I’m mad, because I hate everyone and everything and the whole entire world. I yelled the way a child or a teenager yells; to be mean, to show hurt and anger and rage and pain. I yelled. I apologized, I explained that mommy was having a grumpy day and it had nothing to do with her, I told her mommy had no right to yell like that, I told her I was sorry, I told her it was okay to be mad and hurt that I yelled. I realized I needed to get us out of the house, and to not be alone, or I would most likely yell more. I texted a mom friend of mine– who is a very good friend, actually– and asked if she and her daughter wanted to go to the pool. We met at the pool, and the girls played and we sat in the hot tub and talked, and it was okay. I told her I was having a bad day, that I was irritable, and not in a nice mood, and she accepted that. I just didn’t have the energy to put on my miss perfect Mary sunshine face, and I’m so sick of lying to people who are supposed to be my friends. So I didn’t pretend. I didn’t go into major details of way I was in a bad mood, but what I really needed was someone to accept me where I was. And she did that. 

I texted hubby while I was still at home, after I had yelled for the 5th, 6th, 7th time. His response? “Do I need to come home?” It didn’t feel supportive. It felt like he was saying, “I don’t have time to deal with this, but I am stuck with a crazy, broken, defective wife, so I might as well ask if I need to come home and takeover for her before she screws up our child and turns her into an emotional wreck.” I  told him no. 

I don’t know what I want, or what I need. I only know I’m mad, and hurt and confused and scared and sorry. I hate that whatever happened in my childhood has once again turned my daughter into a giant trigger. I hate that I have put myself in this place of not trusting anyone, of always being scared of what they really mean and what they really think and what they are really going to do. I hate that I feel like I have to have sex with my husband so that he will love me. I hate that Kay leaving me has made me this crazy person, terrified of being left and afraid to trust anyone with anything. I hate that I feel disconnected from everyone in my life right now. I hate that I’m so dissociated that everything is a blur, and I’m numb and gone, and I hate that I’m too afraid to do anything to be more grounded because that means feelings and I can’t handle the feelings. I hate that Bea is on vacation, because right now, I feel like I could go to therapy everyday and that still wouldn’t be enough to contain this mess in my head or help me feel like I’m not alone. I hate that my parents weren’t there emotionally like they should have been, and that I’m unable to cope with anything because of that. I hate that it’s 4:15 in the morning and I only slept a little more than an hour because of nightmares about Kenny and the boyfriend together. 

I hate that I’m a broken, out of control mess, and the only way I know how to fix it is to be a control freak over every aspect in my life, so that nothing can get screwed up, and so there is no time to think, or feel or be scared. I hate that being that way means everyone in my life will think I’m okay, including Bea, and I won’t say otherwise. I hate that I can see myself turning from this healing road and heading down this path, and that I know it is a bad path, but I want to follow it. I want desperately to follow it. And what does that say about me, that I would choose to follow the fork in the road, the bad path, instead of the healing road? But it’s safe. It’s familiar. Nothing bad or scary happens on this path. I know it’s a path that ultimately ends in hurt and mess, but for a while, when I’m on the path, it’s clean and bright and filled with flowers and pretty trees and cute little forest creatures. I don’t really want to follow this path. I just don’t want to hurt anymore.  

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26 thoughts on “I don’t want to hurt anymore 

  1. Well, anything I say can’t erase the pain.
    Crazy is an unfair word. Anyone who has been through similar childhood trauma faces such challenges. If it were Bea, Bea too would need support, anybody would.
    Keep that sewing machine out. I find respite in the studio where the breath slows and relaxes along with the mind, body and spirit.

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  2. Sirena says:

    I want to reassure you that Bea is very good with her words, she won’t use ambiguous language so she most likely was using the words you’d used to reassure you. She wants to support you. If she felt like she couldn’t do that while on holiday she wouldn’t have offered.
    As for the bulimia and cutting stuff, you’re going through a really tough time and it’s natural that you would go back to familiar patterns to find safety. This is you just trying to find some equilibrium amongst the chaos. It won’t last, this is just a bump in the road. You’re doing okay, even if you don’t feel it right now. Keep writing, keep sewing. Take care xx

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    • Thanks Sirena. The reminder that Bea is good with her words and that she is careful with language is a good one. Thank you for viewing my messiness with compassion. I’ve read this a few times in the last 2 days. It helps. 💟

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      • I don’t know. I had therapy today. It wasn’t good. Things went very very wrong and off and I don’t know. I emailed her telling her how bad it was today and how I couldn’t talk to her and I felt left. She wrote back and it’s fine. Well, grown up me gets it and it’s fine. But the little girl and the teen feel very scared and unsure and alone. I’ll probably post later about it. I just haven’t yet because it’s blurry in my head and I’ve been trying to stay busy and follow this routine/schedule miss perfect set up. 😕

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      • Sirena says:

        I’m sorry it wasn’t better. You could really have done with feeling some connection. Just keep in touch with her until you get what you need. I hope things feel better soon x

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  3. Just reading this post, and wanted to send support. I am thinking of you, and care so much for your fears and pain. So much of this post resonates, Alice. It makes so much sense to me, it doesn’t sound crazy at all. I could have written this post. The emotions, I get it, the agony, it is so painful and difficult. You’re going to be okay.

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  4. You are not crazy or a crazy mess. Everything you’re feeling makes absolute sense. It is understandable that you feel you can’t trust anyone let alone you’re own judgement. We survivors, were betrayed by the very people that said they loved us and we’re supposed to take care of us, instead they abused us, manipulated us, rejected us for showing emotions and told us in many ways we weren’t good enough. You’ve been hit with a double whammy this week. First, Kay ends the one friendship you trusted with the one person you felt knew and loved you for you and would always be there for you, secondly, Bea is on vacation and time away from therapy beyond what we’re used to can make us feel a disconnect from our therapist and our minds go into its cognitive error thinking and second guessing. What you’re feeling is normal for this stage in healing and it’s normal to go back to our old coping mechanisms. You’ve done incredible work and you are healing and getting better simply by your awareness of what’s triggering you, how your coping and more importantly how you’re able to be present for Kat and explain to her that it’s not her fault Mommie is yelling and angry. Give yourself the credit you deserve for loving, supporting and nurturing your daughter the way you were never given and shown. You are not ruining her. You are loving her the way one day soon you will love yourself. You are enough Alice!

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    • Your little girl and teenager already survived the worst and there is no shame or guilt in what she did to survive. She did the best she could with the hand dealt her and SURVIVED using her creativity and intellect. Because of it, you Alice, are here now and have carved out a beautiful life for yourself and have a beautiful daughter. You have the support in Bea and your blog that you never had as a child. You are not alone. This journey is no way easy, however, you’re worth however long it takes to become the you you were always meant to be.

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  5. So this will probably sound stupid but it’s something I find really helpful. So, I carry my T inside myself. Like literally I carry my T in my heart. Oh my gawd, I’m crazy but I talk to her, hold her hand, walk with her, sing with her…in every beautiful thing I do she is there. My walks, my yoga, my meditations, even my crazy dinners of baked potatoes with cheese and lentils on top. So, what about the not so beautiful things we do? She reminds me that I must have reasons that I’m doing what I’m doing and to not to judge myself. I am not bad and you are not bad. She tells me to have compassion for myself (whether I am 5, 14 or 40) I must be acting out for a reason and to breathe into what I feel because it will pass. I then hear her asking me what I need. I dislike that question. But what do you need? To be held? To be with a friend? To sit wrapped up in a blanket? Maybe a blanket fort with your daughter? Maybe to go running or to move your body by shaking it all out. Maybe to dance to some 80’s music. But mostly know that Bea cares about you. But she has to set limits and take care of herself first so that she can come back refreshed and able to care for you. Remember that you have worked with her long enough that she is in your heart. If you listen closely you will be able to hear her. 💜💜💜

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    • It’s not stupid. Bea told me once that the hope in therapy is that you have a minutiae version of your therapist with who speaks to you. I don’t know what I need. I just keep sewing, cleaning, doing my usual crazy stuff. I got out my yoga mat and used this app I love to do some yoga. And it felt good. 💟

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  6. It’s no wonder you feel like this, when so much of your “secure base” is suddenly absent. Kay disappears and Bea is (mostly) unavailable. And then your daughter’s perfectly acceptable play hits some of your tender spots. That is definitely a recipe for some pretty intense pain.

    We learn, slowly, new coping skills in therapy, but I think in times of crisis, it is nearly impossible to access them because a much simpler, childish part of our brain takes over. (Maybe not even a childish part – isn’t the amygdala called the “reptilian brain”?) So it makes sense we’d slide back into the unhealthy coping skills. That’s certainly explains why I recently started burning myself again after months of not doing it (and before that, after years of not doing it). Please don’t judge yourself for the eating, purging or cutting. You won’t be doing these things forever. This is you resorting to some old strategies to cope with hard things. When the worst is over (sooner rather than later, I most sincerely hope), you’ll be able to let these things go again.

    I seriously doubt you have hit Bea’s limit. I know I thought I hit E’s, but it turned out I hadn’t. As great as text and email with our therapists can be, it misses the warm tone and gentle look that would make the words much more comforting in person. She’ll come back and be there for you. In the meantime, it’s incredibly hard. I can imagine–E. is going on vacation in May, and I won’t see her for more than four weeks. This is very scary. I expect I may end up struggling too, so I guess I am partly talking to myself here.

    It’s okay you yelled at your daughter. You also apologized right away and let it know it wasn’t about her. That’s great modeling for being a healthy adult – having a hard day, but owning it, not making the child responsible. You are an excellent mom.

    Breathe, and be gentle with yourself.

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    • Thanks Q. This all really reframed how I’ve been judging myself. I don’t know if I hit her limit or not. But after today’s session, I honestly don’t know. We shall see. Reading that I modeled being a healthy adult, that was surprising…and nice. Thank you. 💟

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  7. Lemonbella says:

    Not surprising that things went into crisis when the Kay thing happened – i collapsed when my friendship ended too.With your T being away it is extra hard. From the other side of that event I’m telling you there is another side to these feelings. They will end. There will be brightness. Try to be compassionate to yourself. Try to be as gentle as you can be. Another favorite saying of mine: “This is you getting through it the only way you know how. No one else gets to tell you what your tough looks like”. Thinking of you

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