Time to get started…..

So….since I went into therapy 2 weeks ago I have been agitated, angry, resentful, panicked and having a very hard time sleeping.  I know that I can not continue to stuff all this shit deep down inside, continue to live in this disconnected hell, but right now it feels like therapy and recovery is going to be oh so much harder than denial.  Even now I am avoiding truly getting started with this journal because I don’t want to face my past.  I don’t know where to start….don’t want to start.

Okay.   I’m going to try and ease my way down this path, make this an autobiographical account.  Maybe by examining all my crossroads and trying to figure out how I ended up here I can lay some of this to rest, or at least figure out some sense of myself through this journey.

My childhood was a happy one.  My Dad was in the Air Force, my Mom was a stay-at-home mom, and I had one older brother.  I was very much the baby of the family and Daddy’s little girl. My Mom always seemed to me to belong more to my brother than to me, which was not really a big problem because I was fine being Daddy’s little princess.  My brother and I never had much of a relationship.  I guess like most first born children he resented my presence and the time and attention I took away from him.  From as far back as I can remember he would refuse to hug me or to put his arm around me for pictures.  I do remember some fun times when we were left with a baby-sitter when we would actually play together and have fun, but for the most part I remember tricks that he would play on me that usually ended up with me getting in trouble or hurt either physically or emotionally.  I don’t mean that to sound like he abused me.  I’m sure that the physical injuries were not his intention.  I’m talking about things like the time when I was about 3 that he convinced me to pay him to give me clown lessons.  (No one will like you unless you can make them laugh!)  So I broke into my piggy bank and paid him a quarter to teach me how to be a clown.  (Yes I really  was that gullible)   Lesson  #1 was  makeup!  I came  running out, couldn’t wait to show mom  my clown makeup (actually not makeup, but Crest toothpaste applied liberally all over my face *blush*)  Mom, needless to say was not impressed and before I could explain WHY I had toothpaste all over my face I was given a spanking I still remember to this day, had my face washed and was sent to bed without dinner.  Another very early memory that stands out is one when I was four years old.  I was at a pre-kindergarten program I attended and for some dumb reason I had a penny in my mouth.  I remember thinking it was cool to suck on it until the suction would cause it to stick to the roof of my mouth.  Well….eventually I managed to get so much suction going that the penny stuck to the roof of my mouth and would not release.   It stayed that way long enough that I got scared and went to the teacher for help.  She couldn’t get it off the roof of my mouth either so she sent me to the office.  I vaguely remember several women trying to get this thing out of my mouth, and I remember getting more and more frightened until I was in full blown panic.  They finally gave up and decided to call my parents. I remember being terrified that I was going to be in trouble because I knew very well that I was not supposed to put things into my mouth.  I distinctly remember sitting on a wooden bench in the hallway, waiting for what seemed like forever, getting more and more afraid.  Then all of the sudden there was my Dad, dressed in his Air Force uniform.  He just walked over, picked me up, sat down on the bench and held me.  Once I had calmed down a bit he reached into my mouth, popped the penny loose and walked me back to my classroom.  I still to this day can close my eyes and remember exactly how that felt.  I can smell the cigar smoke, Old Spice cologne, and cold fresh air; feel the scratchy wool of his uniform coat against my cheek, and that amazing feeling of being protected and safe and secure when he held me.

Anyway….that’s enough of that for the time being.  I think that is enough information to kind of get a handle on the family dynamics…..oh, except I forgot one hugely important person….my granddaddy.  We went to visit my grandparents frequently, and some of my best childhood memories are from being on granddaddy’s farm.  I remember granddaddy always and a pony or two on the farm in the summers, just for me because he knew I was horse crazy.  I remember him staying with me while everyone else went into town, playing his guitar and singing to me, taking me fishing, picking blackberries, riding on the tractor, whispering secrets into my ear so that sometimes I could actually win at some of the games I played  with my brother and cousin.   My granddaddy was my special person, the one that seemed to understand me without me ever having to explain.   He was also my first true tragedy in life.  He died of cancer when I was 9 years old, and still to this day I feel the ache of missing him.

Enough for now….I’ll add more tomorrow.

The second step down a path of new beginings…..

*deep breath*  My primary goal for this blog is to use it to help me deal with some issues and past traumas.  Anyone is welcome to read and comment, but please be aware that my posts will likely contain disturbing subject matter that may serve as triggers to others with PTSD, depression, or other similar problems.  I will not censor my posts; I have to be completely honest here in order to receive any therapeutic progress from this process.  I welcome input from other survivors looking for support and wishing to exchange thoughts, feelings and ideas on recovery.  This is not going to be an easy thing for me.  I will be bringing up situations and feelings that I have stuffed deep down for quite a few years.  I humbly ask that if you are not able to be supportive of me or others that choose to participate then please leave us in peace.

Okay, now that that’s out of the way….my secondary purpose will be to use this blog as a space to discuss parenting issues and to share my passion for knitting.  Hopefully I can keep the various subjects categorized separately.