This week has been like walking into a jungle. Right as I think I've crossed a divide in my therapy, I run into several events testing my progress.
My dad emails me. I have no contact. It is a simple probe where he seems like he's trying to be nice and wants to open contact. But he never writes enough to be clear. Just two lines. I don't trust it. I've been fooled by this before. I go in good faith and try to give them a chance and slowly or quickly, they know the strings to tug, all the backdoors they implanted in my psyche to get right back in there and start manipulating again.
Part of me wants to ignore it. Part of me wants to write them out for good. Part says, not yet. But another part wants to try. Wants to make sure I'm not hurting them. And then the protective side comes up and wants to verbally let him have it.
Secretly, I had hoped they'd reach out. To just know they cared at all, even if it's twisted. But then as soon as they do, I get mad and want to react.
But I guess this tells me my course. I'm not ready. There's still too much damage. I haven't even gotten to the bottom of it yet. But it's still a struggle when faced with this.
That leads to the other tangles. My wife is in a stressful situation and I make it worse with my issues. But she doesn't want me to keep them from her. It's a catch 22. Am I supposed to pretend I'm ok so she doesn't suspect I'm hiding stuff? That seems the opposite direction from healing. I find myself just doing nothing. Not talking, not being ok. Just in this limbo. I have this drive to fix problems. Many people do, but mine is hyperactive because I've always had to. Plus it gives me a sense of control over my circumstances.
The bad side is that I end up in that same limbo with urges to make myself known in unwholesome ways. Break stuff, leave hidden messages on the shower door that will appear in the steam and look l was just venting to myself, but really I'm crying for attention.
Which takes in another vine. I feel like a manipulator. I'm told I am persuasive, not manipulative, but where's the dividing line? That whole shower thing seems to cross it, wherever it is.
And there's another! I didn't realize how dead I had become. I don't know how to express what I feel. I mean when and in what ways? How much is too much? I'm up and down all over the place. Do I let them all out all the time? I was conditioned to let nothing out, to be concrete, unshakable.
And one more vine. Now that my feelings are coming back, I'm physiologically losing my edge. I was tough. Hard against anything. Hunger, thirst, heat, cold, boredom, you name it. I had mastered almost every passion. Of course not really. They leaked out in other ways. That's why I sought therapy in the first place. But now, I feel stuff. I hurt more. I get lazier. I want to indulge in food or whatever. I'm starting to have the same atruggles as normal people and I don't like it.
Then there's my son. A whole tangle in himself. I feel guilty for his issies, guilty that I may not recognize them now. Guilty that I can't or won't fix the ones I do see. But I know he needs to learn to stand on his own and has to work things out for himself. I've given him what I can to help him. But don't I owe more since I damaged him? This is probably the issue anyway. I can't fix a broken screw with a broken screwdriver. I just jeed a totally new approach.
Sometimes, I want to cut it all away. I feel trapped by my relationships. I wish they would all just leave me. I can't leave them because I'd be breaking my promises and it's a deeper level of hell in my head if I quit or fail.
So what now? I'm doomed. I cry out to God and try to trust him for help, but none seems to come. Maybe I'm not doing something right, not understanding something right...which damn all you preachers who say so, this is why I can't listen to you. If there is any hooe for me, it isn't in your system or theories. Come walk a while in these shoes and see how little your "hope" means.
No it has to be more, deeper. Right now, I can only howl for help and wait for that help to find me. I can save myself. But it will lead to the same place I was. And right there, we circle back... and I put a gun to my chin and squeeze. But I won't really because I'm too scared to be stuck with this forever.
If it's true that you take your issues with you, then we won't die until we get them sorted...I'm going to be the oldest man on the planet. And that is not an exciting prospect. I can't wait for this prison sentence to be over. I'm trapped in my cell of cells and I want out...no, I don't even care about that. What I want is peace.
Where do I find it?
