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shxxtingstarss · 10 months

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therapy no. 53

Today's therapy was really liberating in the end.

I had to bring up the topic of the special application for getting the chance to study psychology at a uni nearby. I hate the thought of it, the thought of comparing my problems and my illness to the illness of other people that might apply via this special application process. I also need a letter of my therapist for this application, so that an expert also states why I need to start my studies right now and can't wait another year or more.

We opened up that topic and why I didn't want to apply with this kind of application and by that we also approached other topics like why I always downplay my problems and experiences and why I always hide how bad I actually feel, even though I sometimes don't want to hide it. Later we found out that that kind of problem-pathology-focused application via my illnesses is also hard for me because I don't want to be reduced to my problems, and it is also only a part of the truth, because my problems aren't just problems, they were and are solutions to situations that I wasn't able to solve otherwise, that were overstraining my possibilities or are still overstraining my abilities today. My problems are there for a reason, they are solutions to much bigger problems, solutions that I really needed in the past in order to survive and still need in order to live with my past now. And by applying with a focus on problems, all of that stays hidden, all of my strength and my effort. But maybe we can include that in the letter that is needed for the application. Hm. Might be a possibility. An important point my therapist brought up, that I also had in mind, was that it would be much better for my emotional stability if I started studying psychology, something that I am good at and that I really want to do and where my interests are, right now/in the upcoming winter semester. I already had that one in mind, but then I thought, again, I'm probably exaggerating and that it would be super awkward to bring that up in front of my therapist. Well, he brought it up himself. Kinda funny.

Of course I hide how I really feel because I'm scared - scared that someone might use my vulnerability that I show by being emotional and hurt me. We shortly talked about why I feel that way, first I said it doesn't make sense and it's stupid, because by hiding my struggles I'm always alone with them and can't get any help with them, even if I desperately need it. I mean I even struggle to show my emotions when I'm sitting in therapy in my safe space with my therapist that I deeply trust.

Today though I managed to let my guard down and let some, eventually even a lot or almost all emotions out. It's funny how I used to think my guard is so strong because I want to be perceived as confident etc, but I am pretty sure that's not it, it's more like a deeply rooted anxiety of being hurt when I am the most vulnerable. Because, as my therapist also correctly stated, that's what my mother always did, hurt me when I was the most vulnerable. His wording was accurate in a funny way, he said "because that's when your mother hit you, when you were the most vulnerable" with "hitting" being metaphorical and meaning manipulating and hurting me with words, but she also used to hit me in a literal way when I was emotional, I think I only remember a fraction of it all, but the two situations I do remember were really bad (psychologically) and I'm pretty sure they weren't the only ones. I really should talk about that one very striking situation where I am now almost sure that my mother did stuff like that on purpose to keep me small and obedient, I read about similar stuff in my one trauma-research book "trauma and recovery - the aftermath of violence" and it hit me hard when I read about it in such a explanatory and neutral way whilst getting images in my head about past experiences with violence of the kind that was explained in the book.

The downplaying-problems part was another thing to open though, and it wasn't easy for me to reach my inner processes at that point. I first talked a lot (maybe a bit too much at that point to shadow the fact that I don't really know what the real reason is) but didn't say a lot, I only mentioned that it was easier to downplay my problems so I can distance myself from the heaviness of carrying them around. But another point is that I'm also distancing and kind of neglecting my heavy past/story of my life that way. And I'm also downplaying how much I'm actually carrying around with me and how much I'm fighting to get better and to cope with my past. At that point I kind of realised it myself, it kind of hurt me and made me sad that I also downplay all the effort I put into my daily living and the work I'm putting into myself and my healing. I shouldn't do that to myself. And I kind of said that out loud, too, I was crying a bit and spoke out my thoughts to my therapist, and said that it's kind of stupid of me and not okay, because I really put in a lot of work into my wellbeing and my stabilization process, and that I'm too often being too hard on myself. He then said something that agreed with that thoughts of mine and said that I'm definitely trying really hard and really want to change something about my problems, and I started crying harder. I then thought about how I still manage to make some smaller and some greater achievements, how people perceive me as strong, successful etc even though they don't know anything about my story or not a lot, they definitely can't imagine the weight I'm carrying, and despite all of that I still achieve stuff that many people without these problems don't achieve or can't achieve. I put a bit of this into words and then my voice broke in the middle of a sentence and I just started crying and couldn't stop it, but I was glad I didn't. I cried really hard, I didn't cry this hard in the last few weeks and I needed it. Especially needed it in front of my therapist who kind of quietly carried me along. Just when I thought I calmed down, I started again and it was a really hard and sobbing kind of crying, I felt all the pain of the weight of the story I am carrying all at once. My therapist reminded me that the session was almost over, but he gave me plenty of time to calm down. He just sat there quietly and was there for me without doing anything. I the end he said, very calmly, that he thinks that it's beautiful how I acknowledged all of that. I just nodded my head in agreement and started to breathe very mindfully to be able to walk out of his office. At that point I remembered that I hadn't told him about the date of admission to the clinic that I got two weeks ago, and I told him about it. I also wanted to ask him if we could keep in contact again so he would know when I get out, but he brought that up on his own and said we could just do it like during my first stay there and that I could update him about the uni stuff.. and then he would give me a new date for our sessions. I was really happy about how that went, and I said sth like "yes, that worked more than well last time" and thanked him, and after that we finished the session and I deeply thanked him for today's session (it was pretty much perfect, today nothing annoyed me, not even afterwards, I was super happy with the topics we approached and the way I was able to show and share some of my emotions with him, talk to him freely and explain a lot of my thoughts and my inner processes, I even mentioned the feedback I got from Jeannine that she also didn't notice any of my emotional intensities during our holiday trip...) and he answered with "you're very welcome". I'm really happy about the connection and the therapeutic relationship we established, and the trust I built.

#bpd #therapy #psychotherapy #traumatherapy #ptsd #childhood trauma

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wjamesposts · 1 month

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iamamanwhowasraped · 2 months

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I don’t know why I chose today all days to write down what happened to me when I was raped and assaulted. It’s been over 30 years of silence, shame and blaming myself. I still haven’t the courage to do this anonymously. “. He too”, just feels too public, too raw and a risk, as I am still very vulnerable, still very raw, still a long way to go to heal.

Baby steps.

I was 18 years old when my entire world changed. That was also the day my entire personality changed for ever. The day they took a piece of my soul, a piece I don’t think I can ever get back or replace. Im 50 now, and I have no idea why it has taken till now to express it. After internalising it every day. You see other people telling their stories of rape and sexual assault. They do it, not anonymously like me. Everyone salutes their bravery. So do I. But I just cannot go that far. Shouting my rape and assault to the rooftops makes me feel terrified and shameful. So many men and women in particular, have been raped, sexually assaulted and abused. It’s a huge thing for me. And my rape belongs to me. No-one can devalue or minimise it. To be just another person on a pile of rape stories… forgettable…the thought of that feels like it could crush me.

The truth is, people have grown tired of #metoo #hetoo personal testimonies. That movement, as refreshing as it was at the time, had the adverse effect. It became a fad in time, an ice bucket challenge. People are tired of rape stories really.. Another rape. Another sexual assault. Childhood sexual abuse. These are also traumatising to hear for other victims particularly.

Each one of those stories is a personal tragedy. It shatters most lives. Irreparable damage and fallout. The lifelong fallout of mental illness, relationship difficulties, ongoing physical, psychological and sexual abuse, addiction, career and financial difficulties, crime and prison time…the social costs are endless.

I want to tell you what happened to me.

I was 18 hears old in the early 90s. I was terrified of HIV and AIDS which meant at that time, la high chance of death, as treatments were in their infancy. Homophobia was rife when I left to start university at a small English city, in the Midlands. It was, multicultural, working class, crime-ridden but tens of thousands of students brought the city to life. It was my emancipation from a narcissistic hostile homophobic father and family. .I could be gay, mostly, out in safe circles although there were incidents. A drunk fellow student on Saturday night trying to break into my digs to beat me up…luckily the rugby lads would stand up for me and gave him a hiding. He was never expelled, jsomething that would happen immediately now.

After about 6 months I went to the local gay club. It was the time of #madchester, #rave, Hacienda and dance music. I went a few times when a tall, overweight, not particularly good looking guy made a beeline to talk to me. I had dropped an e so i was “loved up”. I’m fastidiously polite and friendly so i talked to him, continuing to dance, to show, “sure I’m friendly, I’ll talk to anyone, but I just want to dance”. I didn’t want to convey any other messages as I was not interested in him romantically. He asked if I was single. Dreaded question. I avoided the answer to the question … “ i love this tune”, probably commenting on how great the music and DJ were. I remember it was Ecstasy by Shades of `Rhythm or something similar. I felt sorry for him. He was clumsy, unattractive, dressed with badly fitting, unfashionable clothes. That didn’t bother me. What bothered me was that he needed connection. He seemed desperate for it. And so i thought no harm in connecting a little.

The night ended and I said goodbye. “Come back to mine”, he said. “No”, I said. “I want to go home and anyway Mike (lets call him that), I’m sort of seeing someone else so we can only be friends”. He had a disappointed look on his face for a brief moment but it seemed to fall on deaf ears. The way he was looking at me still gave an impression that his pursuit of me was undeterred. “Tell you what, will you be in here next week?” “Yes if you’re going to be here”. I should have recoiled a little at what I look back on as language reminiscent of a stalker knowing what I know now. But at that point I thought id never meet him again.

I saw him a few times as sure enough he was there at that club every Saturday night. When I didn’t tgo, the following few week he would almost panic, “where were you? I was here but you never came out”.

Then the Saturday night came. I was dabbling with drugs, ecstasy mainly, with speed on occasion. It was that time in the culture. A culture I dove into feet first. That night, i had a triple x, a particularly strong pill. I bumped into Mike and was so high I didn’t care. He got me a drink which I know, looking back, he spiked with acid. I just know I was out of control and hour after i had the drink he bought me. He was with a straight friend who was also 6 foot plus, muscular, rough and really too edgy for my liking. He was serious, He felt cold, detached. Speed, E and now a trip. The walls of the club were like waterfalls and the dance floor was filling up with the flowing walks so it seemed. I was in a nightmare. I felt frightened, out of control, disassociated and I was terrified.

All of a sudden i was with them, in a taxi, incoherent. Then I was at a house. Time was strange, I couldn’t tell a minute from ten minutes. When I asked where we were, Mike said Adie’s. (Not his real name.)

I was incoherent still. “Can i lie down?”, I asked sheepishly. Adie showed me upstairs to his bedroom. “Lie down there mate. I’ll pop up in a bit.”

I’m high, alert, off it, delirious, tripping, hallucinating and I feel bad. I wanted it to stop. Face into the pillow, I barely noticed anyone coming into the room but for the light. I was unaware i was being undressed straight away. I didn’t notice him taking off my shoes, jeans and underwear. I was confused when I was lifted up and my t shirt was being pulled off. Then panic set in. “No, what are you doing? Get off me, wheres Mike?” That’s when Ade forced me back onto the bed, lay on top of me and forced his tongue in my mouth. . A drug fucked kiss, didn’t scare me but he whispered “you little prick tease, we’re going to fuck your arse”. He turned me over hard, so I was face down, a fore arm choking my neck and then he was inside me. No warning, no condom< nothing. I couldn’t do anything but hoarsely whisper “no, stop” because his forearm was seriously choking my windpipe. I couldn’t get him off as he was too heavy. I was pinned . The pain in my arse floored me and worsened as he pushed himself all the way in. I must have screamed as best as I could, but with restricted air, it was almost unheard. I was a virgin and so I hadn’t douched, engaged in foreplay, had any lubrication and so I tightened up even more, . The pain was excruciating. I screamed, “no”, grabbing a breath, biting his forearm as hard as i could. He screamed. He retaliated by punching me in the side of the head, again and again. “Ill fucking kill you, you fucking prick tease, were gonna fuck you, fucking cunt … stop fighting it you little prick, ill beat your fucking lights out, take my dick…”, he whispered these words into my ear when I started to realise I could t stop him or fight him off.

Then Mike was inside me. No warning. I knew because Adie said “fuck him, thats it, fuck his arse.” I was still tight and the pain was worse. Burning, hot, pain like i was being punched inside over and over. Then Adie forced his unwashed dick my mouth, choking me. My gag reflex had me vomiting except my stomach was empt. Dry heaving, struggling to breathe.

I used all my strength to get away, fell on the floor and scrambled to the door but they were on top of me, and suddenly I heard the thumps of hard punches to my back, around my kidneys. So winded, beaten, immobilised and terrified, they lifted me onto the bed without any fight. I realised that flight was impossible. I was left with that awful choice so many rape victims face. Fight and face potential violence or worse consequences. So I made the choice. I Accepted the rape. I Let it happen. And I feel shame and feel to blame. That makes no sense but thats how it feels.

And so I let it happen. The body and mind protect you. I know they came inside me twice each perhaps. But time was suspended. Body shuts down. Depersonalisation.

All told, I know it lasted between 3 to 4 hours. I don’t know how long it was after they stopped raping me to when i got dressed. I must have taken a while to realise they stopped and i was alone. A clock said 6am. I crept down the stairs and they were both asleep in the lounge. I ran as fast as i could, out the front door which i didn’t even close behind me, fearing noise might wake them.

The rape was far more than I have written here. They were verbal too. “Prick tease”, “faggot”, “cocksucker”, “cunt” saying things like how I deserved everything they gave me a lot i have forgotten over the years.

I walked home ever so slowly. There was none around. No-one to beg for help. No-one to just look at and feel human again for a second. Hours seemed to go by for that 4 mile walk. I looked in my mirror hours later in the entrance hall. Split lip, blackened reddened cheek. I lifted up my t shirt, and failed to cry when i saw the black bruising on my lower back and his teeth marks near the base of my neck…. When I saw the mess of blood, shit, their semen and sweat behind me…

I felt sore. Dirty. Beyond shock. Unable to cry.

There is a smell to rape that is indescribable. Its a smell that you never forget but fear to remember. A smell that makes you want to wash your entire body, to purge your entire being of it.

Then comes the inevitable self blame. I took drugs. Did I give mixed signals? Did my politeness, suggest yes i wanted sex?. I said “no, stop”, maybe it wasn’t loud enough, maybe it wasn’t believable enough. The self blame of the last 30 years.

The truth is, it was not my fault.

I was vulnerable.

I said no.

And my virginity, was something that I wanted to hose to give to a man, someone i loved, someone of my choosing when I wanted.

To be continued: the aftermath.

Theft, And Wandering Around Lost by Cocteau Twins

The man is an offender

He took my value

And I give back his shame

And I take back my power

My body is my own

My body is mine alone

And I deserve protection

And I can create it for you

Is this what my body said?

"Use me

Drain me

Fall around me"

Is this what my body said?

"Engulf me

I'm already dead"

I have a feel of things

Cry and shakes the wall for you

And I am moving to poison love

And drown the stars above you

My body is my own

My body is mine alone

And I deserve protection

And I can create it for you

Is this what my body said?

"Use me

Drain me

Fall around me"

Is this what my body said?

"Engulf me

I'm already dead"

Keep cutting myself on the edges of reality

Is this what my body said?

Keep cutting myself on the edges of

"Use me Reality

Drain me

Fall around me"

Is this what my body said?

Keep cutting myself on the edges of

"Engulf me Reality

I'm already dead"

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cinderpresss · 2 months

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Somatic Healing: Unlocking the Power Within

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Key Features:

Delve into the roots of somatic healing, tracing its origins from ancient Eastern practices like yoga and Tai Chi to Western traditions of psychoanalysis. Uncover the threads that weave the body-mind connection into the fabric of human understanding.

Explore the scientific basis of somatic healing, unveiling the role of neuroplasticity, neurotransmitters, and the impact of stress on the body. Gain insights into the physiological mechanisms that underlie somatic practices and their transformative potential.

From breathwork and movement therapies to mindfulness meditation and expressive arts, discover a comprehensive mind-body toolkit. Practical exercises and guidance empower you to incorporate these techniques into your daily life, promoting relaxation, clarity of mind, and emotional resilience.

Navigate the intricate path of healing trauma through the body. Recognize and understand trauma, unravel the role of the nervous system, and explore somatic approaches that offer tools for transformative recovery.

Extend the journey of somatic healing into community spaces. Explore the social dimension, create somatic-centric communities, and witness the ripple effect of collective well-being.

Acknowledge the limitations, evolve with emerging trends, and engage in the ongoing quest for holistic well-being. This section challenges the status quo, fostering a spirit of curiosity and adaptation.

Be a catalyst for positive change, fostering resilience on a broader scale.

Somatic Healing: Unlocking the Power Within is a guide to transforming your relationship with your body, cultivating resilience, and contributing to a world where well-being is a collective endeavor. Are you ready to unlock the power within and embark on a journey of self-discovery? Dive into the world of somatic healing today. Get your copy today!

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therapywithagnes · 3 months

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Something to think about… #TraumaTherapy #Psychology #TraumaRecovery

#TraumaTherapy Psychology TraumaRecovery

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hspcoaching · 7 months

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#hsp #rebirthing #lifecoaching #thehague #highsensitivity #love #healing #breaththerapy #intuition #hooggevoeligheid #ademtherapie #traumawerk #nlp #traumatherapie

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thecpdiary · 4 months

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Coming to Terms with Traumatic Loss

A TikTok podcast was gifted to me. Any loss that is sudden and even if it's not, if it's protracted, or not considered the norm, can be traumatic. The podcast timing couldn't be more perfect a year into losing my twin.

The following transcript is exactly how I feel.

Billy Bob Thornton: "I've Never Been the Same Since My Brother Died."

There's a melancholy in me that never goes away. I'm 50 percent happy and 50 percent sad at any given moment."

"I don't want to forget what it felt like when he died, because he deserves [that remembrance]. That's how important he was to me," Thornton says. "So, if I have to suffer and I have to be sad for the rest of my life, and if I have to be lonely without him... then that's the way I honor him."

It's an anguish that he doesn't believe will ever go away. "I'll be sad and melancholy about that forever. I know it and I accept it and I live with it," he says. "But I think it's OK. I think it's OK to have all those feelings." - (Source: https://www.huffpost.com)

As painful as it has been to cope with his loss, Billy-Bob Thornton chose to embrace his grief. He wouldn't be pushed into moving on until it felt right, until he was done grieving. Billy Bob expresses my feelings exactly. I am melancholy and life will never be the same. The grief may subside, but the melancholy will stick. Sheila was my twin. She was the other half of me.

Disbelief

A year on and coming across Billy-Bob Thornton's dialogue rings many truths for me. I am not the same person. I can’t believe Sheila's gone. I'm fearful of the life yet to come. I have never known a life without her and it couldn't have come at a worse time in the pandemic. It's not finished.

There are days when I fail to move one step in front of the other, fail to focus and fail to motivate. I have low moments for sure.

Yes, like Billy-Bob Thornton, for me Sheila's death has changed everything. I have a hard time accepting she's not with me anymore. Traumatic loss and grief is difficult to get past, no matter how many times you're told to get on with life. You can't just switch off as it takes time to come to terms with the trauma, and to find a place for your feelings.

Feeling Lonely

I am lonely. The twin link (and for anyone who is, will know how that feels) is permanent, although the environment we grew up in, did nothing to help us nurture our twinness, but that's not our guilt to carry.

'The Twins'

Growing up, we both struggled being referred continually to 'the twins.' We were never just Sheila and Ilana, living independent lives, we were 'the twins.' It annoyed us both equally, also annoyed us that some family members and family friends couldn’t be bothered to address us individually.

I hate that we both missed out and now that time is gone. As a writer, I am happy to talk about her, to keep her memory alive. As I continue my earthly journey, Sheila comes too.

Dedicated to all those dealing with loss and grief.

If you're interested and you fancy grabbing copies of my books, they are available to purchase on my website here https://www.thecpdiary.com/my-books/

For more inspirational, lifestyle blogs, please check out my site https://www.thecpdiary.com

#thecpdiary #blog #TraumaticLoss #Grief #BillyBobThornton #Loss #Trauma #traumahealing #traumahealingjourney #traumatherapy

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