Day 2 - well last night before I went to bed I wanted to think about deep work and healing.
I had a thought before going to bed, it was about rage, and I saw it as a huge black tornado with glass and harmful bees and wasps in it.
I started talking to my DH (dear husband) about it. That initally did not go too well because he interjected a lot of stuff - his stuff in it. I was really angry because I needed to talk about me, and why I'm sick. I want to get better.
Finally, after a while of listening to him ramble on & give advice which I did not appreciate, nor want to hear, I got him to the point of just listening. That is where I wanted him, just listening to me bring up old memories.
This stuff inside me isn't exactly repressed, it's right there, almost on the surface and I'm still really angry about it.
My mother and stepfather were super critical pieces of work. I no longer hate them like I did, but that has taken a long long time. And lots of years of not talking to each other. My step-father is now dead and my mother is pretty delicate & much much nicer to me. So I forgive them/her but she's actually too delicate to listen to what happened, nor would she deal/could she emotionally deal, and I know this from past experience.
I started thinking about how I was made to clean the bathroom weekly. And how they were constantly critical. And how it hurt me, deeply. They were always critical of me, never positive. I never could do anything right in their eyes. I was always to be corrected, criticized. Never anything positive, never told I love you, you're doing a good/great job. Plus I was paid really really low wages, even for that time, lower than anyone I knew. They were more than frugal, they were cheap. And I was to buy everything I wanted for myself - movies, etc. So the low wages were kind of awful. I later took to stealing money out of my step-father's wallet that he never missed, and I stole $20's btw.
I'm not proud of stealing, but the fact that they never missed the money sort of says something.
But that's another post (about me stealing).
And we were not poor, we were solidly middle class. I know, these are big resentments, big anger. Agree. But I want to get back to me and what happened in that bathroom.
I got to the point where I'd close the doors to the bathroom and fall asleep in there. All day. Initially I tried to clean it up fast and go out and play outside, which is all I wanted to do. Well this really put a cramp in me going outside to play. It was traumatizing me, because I was a kid, and I was expected to be perfect in doing this. My step-father was the culprit here in this scenario. He would take his finger and say "it's dusty", "it's not good enough", etc.
That and the fact of the low-wages, the never-ending criticism, the bathroom, I hated cleaning it. I was really angry. And they would never listen to me anyway, about anything. I'm angry right now just thinking about it.
So when I finally got my husband to actually listen last night without judgement, without saying anything, I remembered the work I did when John Bradshaw was on PBS. I imagined myself there. I took my DH's hand and said a bunch of really good things to my child-self, like "we love you, we are here for you, you did a GREAT job cleaning, you can go out and play, don't worry, you'll get through it, it will all be worth it, and I'll cook you great meals, just hang in there, you are loved, you are beautiful". All the things I didn't get as a child.
And I had tears.
But on day 3 - today, I got out of bed, and my PF was kind of high since my feet hurt.
More work to be done.
I had a thought before going to bed, it was about rage, and I saw it as a huge black tornado with glass and harmful bees and wasps in it.
I started talking to my DH (dear husband) about it. That initally did not go too well because he interjected a lot of stuff - his stuff in it. I was really angry because I needed to talk about me, and why I'm sick. I want to get better.
Finally, after a while of listening to him ramble on & give advice which I did not appreciate, nor want to hear, I got him to the point of just listening. That is where I wanted him, just listening to me bring up old memories.
This stuff inside me isn't exactly repressed, it's right there, almost on the surface and I'm still really angry about it.
My mother and stepfather were super critical pieces of work. I no longer hate them like I did, but that has taken a long long time. And lots of years of not talking to each other. My step-father is now dead and my mother is pretty delicate & much much nicer to me. So I forgive them/her but she's actually too delicate to listen to what happened, nor would she deal/could she emotionally deal, and I know this from past experience.
I started thinking about how I was made to clean the bathroom weekly. And how they were constantly critical. And how it hurt me, deeply. They were always critical of me, never positive. I never could do anything right in their eyes. I was always to be corrected, criticized. Never anything positive, never told I love you, you're doing a good/great job. Plus I was paid really really low wages, even for that time, lower than anyone I knew. They were more than frugal, they were cheap. And I was to buy everything I wanted for myself - movies, etc. So the low wages were kind of awful. I later took to stealing money out of my step-father's wallet that he never missed, and I stole $20's btw.
I'm not proud of stealing, but the fact that they never missed the money sort of says something.
But that's another post (about me stealing).
And we were not poor, we were solidly middle class. I know, these are big resentments, big anger. Agree. But I want to get back to me and what happened in that bathroom.
I got to the point where I'd close the doors to the bathroom and fall asleep in there. All day. Initially I tried to clean it up fast and go out and play outside, which is all I wanted to do. Well this really put a cramp in me going outside to play. It was traumatizing me, because I was a kid, and I was expected to be perfect in doing this. My step-father was the culprit here in this scenario. He would take his finger and say "it's dusty", "it's not good enough", etc.
That and the fact of the low-wages, the never-ending criticism, the bathroom, I hated cleaning it. I was really angry. And they would never listen to me anyway, about anything. I'm angry right now just thinking about it.
So when I finally got my husband to actually listen last night without judgement, without saying anything, I remembered the work I did when John Bradshaw was on PBS. I imagined myself there. I took my DH's hand and said a bunch of really good things to my child-self, like "we love you, we are here for you, you did a GREAT job cleaning, you can go out and play, don't worry, you'll get through it, it will all be worth it, and I'll cook you great meals, just hang in there, you are loved, you are beautiful". All the things I didn't get as a child.
And I had tears.
But on day 3 - today, I got out of bed, and my PF was kind of high since my feet hurt.
More work to be done.
