Posted by Annabelle Smith on November 21, 2010, at 18:13:02
Thank you, Solstice, for your comment on the other post.
I came home yesterday for Thanksgiving holiday. I will be here for a week. Being home is so painful. It makes me more and more confused-- how to be, what to feel, how to love, what to do.
No one, especially my parents, know what is going on. I feel like they are even part of the problem. I come home to this little farmhouse-type home, where I have always lived, with all of its memories, and it aches in that empty place. Emptiness and absence. It are the same rooms and walls and floors where we used to love and be happy. Now, I feel hate and trapped and miserable.
I feel like I am living a lie here. Sometimes I feel like I am going crazy; other times, I think that maybe nothing is wrong with me. Usually, I just feel chaotic in the in between. I feel strange, like my own voice is reverberating back and forth in the inner recesses of my mind.
My parents love me too much. They have always been present for me; always encouraging and supporting. So, I don't know why I hate them right now. But I do. I wish they would take back some of their love, because I feel like it is strangling me. I love them more than anybody else, but sometimes I hate them with a fury. I need to get away from them and from my crazy family life. My mom is always worrying and blaming herself for everything. Around me over the past year, she either blames herself for the way I feel or she totally ignores and denies everything that I feel, telling me that I am fine and that everybody feels like this. When I ride with my parents in the van or do anything with them, I feel like I am a kid, not an adult. I feel trapped and don't know how to be.
When people look at me-- my parents, people at the church where I grew up (and visited this morning), professors, employers, "friends"-- they could never imagine that anything is wrong. If I told them what I really feel, they wouldn't believe me. They would tell me I am fine, just maybe a little depressed. Sometimes I feel like I need to do an action to prove that this chaos is real. But I think about the different actions and consider the consequences-- they are heavy, and I haven't been able to act yet. Maybe I am just too chicken; maybe my feelings aren't real.
I worry that my therapist doesn't even believe me. I think that's why it is so hard to talk in a session about anything that really matters-- because I feel so detached from it, and when I speak of it, I am afraid that the act of putting it into words will trivialize all that it contains and embodies for me, leadig to more unreality. I don't know if what I feel is real or not. All I know is that I feel chaotic and cannot communicate this in words to anyone.
I think that the chaos eternity in between my sessions is coming from an experience of something being unresolved. I leave most of my sessions feeling this unresolution, like what I wanted to say was not able to be said. Maybe even more so than idealization, this unresolution is the real source of chaos and longing. I won't have another session until nearly another 13 days. My therapist told me that I could call over the break if I had an emergency, but I will never be able to call him. I don't know what counts as an emergency. It feels like a constant crisis, and I don't know what counts as distress, what level is enough to call. He might mean it has to be on the brink of self-harm or suicide. If it is not there at the moment, then it is not worth talking about maybe.
I feel unentitled to feel the way that I do. Nothing has happened to me to warrant this, no particular event. But it is just here. I feel like a lie.
poster:Annabelle Smith
thread:970959
URL: http://www.dr-bob.org/babble/psycho/20101115/msgs/970959.html