A Fragmented Fog

I saw A today.

I told her a lot about the last week. The other dream. She read the letter. I told her about wanting to lie because I’m hurting over something.

About the letter from Teen PD. I couldn’t read it to her. She read it – and she said that she loves her. Instead of getting mad. And A said she isn’t here to fight her or work against her. That she loves how forthright and honest that part is, how she really even brings up that this is a transactional relationship. She said she has great love for her. Then she asked how it would feel if she came to sit beside me. And I said I don’t know. And she asked if it was okay and I said no. It was too close. It was too close today. It wasn’t a no never. It was a no right now. And she said okay. That’s fine. But I both did and did not want her to sit beside me. I was yearning for her to sit beside me. And also so so not okay with it. And she applauded my hard no. And said that my nos are always respected in that room. That is something all of me believes. She said she only asked because she believed I would answer honestly. But I kind of wanted her to sit beside me.

Why did she want to sit beside me?

And then we talked about the physical sibling abuse. It sounds so quick and flippant but it took me so long to tell her. She had asked “what is causing this hurt, that is making you want to transform it into that adrenaline rush you get. It’s OK PD.” After I told her she said “why do you think it took you so long to tell me that.” And I said because I know what comes next… I get told I’m overreacting or saying things I shouldn’t and I’m not allowed to be angry or upset and I don’t get to have feelings. And she probably said all the right things – and she kept asking who’s voice that was. Whose words were coming through. And then she said she knew I was somewhere else because that narrative was so strong. She asked me to paint her a picture and tell her where I mentally was. 

I didn’t answer her. I just said “I am somewhere else. Hi floaty place. I missed you floaty place.” And then suddenly we had five minutes left, which was unfortunate, because I was in the middle of this memory that I was ready to kind of share, but she tried to bring me back and ground me. It felt like such a short time but I lost some time there for sure – she wouldn’t ask for details and then the next sentence tell me it’s time to come back. I played along. I did my best. I’m still so far gone. I see her again tomorrow and then not next week. But I think I want that back.

I wanted nothing to do with her in session, and now I want her presence. Not to talk, and she didn’t push about any of it. I simply want to sit with her. I’m so out of it right now. I said I don’t want to talk about it but I need to talk about it and how frustrating that is. I don’t want to put the pieces back together.

I have spent a lot of time tonight mentally in that numb fog place I haven’t been able to find or conjure up for so long because everything else I can cope with.

I see her again tomorrow and don’t know what to think or do. I want to see her and I don’t. I want to talk and I don’t. I can’t. It’s all stuck. And I’m wandering around slicing my way through this thick fog and everyone else is just walking around normally. 

Oh beautiful numbness.

My instinct is I don’t deserve A. I don’t deserve to be heard – there’s no point in speaking about it. And sometimes I get to the ‘nothing ever happened to me, I’m fine’ place. There’s nothing to talk about. 

That’s where I am right now. 

I hate being back in this numb mental space, the indication I clearly can’t handle something. I hate being a victim. I hate everything about this. There is never going to be a day where I’m not fucked up somehow and worthless.

I never should have told her. I never should have opened my mouth. 

I’m not pushing the fog away, it will end soon enough, and I will be begging for it back.

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16 thoughts on “A Fragmented Fog

  1. It’s not true that you never should have told her. Telling is good. It is healthy. It brings up lots of emotions, some so intense that you may turn (intentionally or not ) to numbness to protect yourself. And you may sometimes feel sad or afraid or ashamed.

    The thing is–and I know you know this–what happened to you is a big deal. You deserve support and compassion, the opportunity to tel your story, and care while you process it. Even if others gave you other messages, it was (is) a big deal and all your feelings are valid. I’m glad you told A. You were brave and trusting to do so. You are brave to recognize and accept the fog. You are taking difficult steps towards an honesty that will give you a better life. I admire that and cheer for you and also mourn for the pain it causes you.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. I’m so sorry you’re in the fog. But remember that pain is sometimes a good thing. If something is hard to talk about, that can mean that talking about it could help. A is there to help and not judge you. You absolutely deserve A. You deserve to be heard. You deserve nothing but good things. If there’s anything I can do, let me know.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. Hi PD,

    i can relate to a lot of what you’re saying. I too am a survivor of abuse, but not at the hands of a sibling. I’ll tell you more about it in an email, but I remember that my mind blocked it out for the longest time. And then when my psyche let me remember what happened, it took time for me to accept that it had in fact happened to me. See, at first, when the memories returned, I would describe what happened as if it had happened to someone other than me. I am glad you have A. to help you process all of this stuff.

    Liked by 1 person

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