Depression. EMDR. Body Memory.

I have probably had depression since I was a child. It was just something I lived with, a sense of ‘nothingness’, no purpose, triggered by my abuse. In some respects alcohol and drugs kept me from ever really feeling it, but no doubt contributed to it. I am on an anti depressant, I have been for about seven years now and it definitely helps. I don’t really feel any side effects from it and don’t even notice that I take it, but I am glad I do. I exercise, I eat healthy, I have faith, I practice faith, I do recovery; yet the depression – a sense of despair – just sits underneath all that I do. My coping mechanism of keeping so busy, works to disconnect me from ever really feeling it, which I don’t necessarily see as a bad thing. Lately, the last six weeks, I have started to develop an observer self, a self that notices the depression and feels it. It is heavy, it is sad, it is negative. It shames me, it makes me feel like killing myself. It makes me think there is no real point to life. There is no meaning, despite the fact that I have placed meaning in my life, that my life is actually full of meaning, it doesn’t seem to matter. The heaviness is oppressive and overpowers me. Suicidal ideation has been big for me as of late. Mostly at nights, in bed, I just wish I could go be with God. I talked about it today with my T and we realised that I have likely had these persistent feelings for many, many years now, but that I have just suppressed them. As I am starting to heal, I am feeling the depression. T said that depression is a mask for anger and for grief. She talked about different options – neurofeedback (expensive but I am not ruling it out), emotional release work, feel the feelings or upping my anti depressant. I don’t think I want to do the latter, but I won’t rule it out. We ended up doing some EMDR, based on the negative belief that it is all my fault and that I am guilty. I couldn’t recall a specific event, I just know I was told this and I felt it so deep within me. T started EMDR and then a little part came out. She told T that she just hated looking out and being so big, meaning that she was only little and trapped inside an adult body. T said she could still be little and gave her a bear to hold. Then T asked what the opposite to feeling its my fault is and the little part said, feeling like it’s not, so T started to do EMDR based on the opposite good belief. Once that went on for a bit, we stopped and I started to feel fear and then I had a body memory. I shivered and shook and just breathed real shallow and T covered me with a big pink blanket and soothed me. Eventually the fear subsided and then the session was over! It has taken me five years to get to a point where my therapist could sit in front of me and watch me have memory. It was scary and I was vulnerable but T said that I was strong. I felt pretty shaken when I left but also much better as it was good to release some of the emotion that has been so repressed.

Earlier today I went to a Christian radio station and was interviewed about my satanic ritual abuse testimony. I was there for three hours because we did so much talking, but the interview only went for 50 minutes, in two parts. I might share it on this page when it comes out. It felt good to talk about it and I felt that I had a good grasp on being able to communicate SRA from a lived experience and also speak to the power of Christ. I spoke to my SRA survivor friend on the way home tonight and it was really cool to speak to her about stuff. She told me some pretty horrific memories she has had and I felt sad but privileged I could hear her and believe her, because I know, although it is shocking and sick and depraved, that it is all true. I think I am angry deep down at how they hurt me and how they hurt others, but it is still buried so, so deep. I hope I can release it safely over time as being depressed is not the greatest way to live my life, I know that.

 

Out of sorts

Very out of sorts the past couple of days. Hit me Saturday night after last boxing writing workshop. Exhaustion and dissociation overwhelmed me. I realised it was winter solstice too, so there’s a large amount of satanic activity just gone. I could feel it energetically and it has been very draining. I’m tired and afraid. I just want to shiver and shake and hide under the covers. Each day is a struggle at the moment, well, last week it got better but seems to have gone bad again. I can’t help but think it’s all my fault. I’m in and out of memory- it’s distant but there.

Trigger warning: ***************************************

I see blood. I feel bones, I see guts and I vomit. I am nauseous, the smell is intoxicating, I hold my breath and count to ten. I am scared, I am cold, I am out of body. You are at a distant and I can’t get to safety. Everything, including me, is behind a steel door. I’m trapped. I used to live in a box and you rescued me. Now I look back at deaths door. If I open it, i am sucked in to a void that consumes me. I want to tell you the truth because you are ready to listen but I am afraid I have no words. Only senses. They used to pin me down and spit on my head. They used to breathe close to my face and bury me alive. I wish I had of stayed there. They spun me around, they built a web and I could never go past it. Deep was the maze, down inside I would go, to rich colours and perfume smells, and parties. How they would laugh. I never knew if it was i that was funny or the butt of jokes. I was part of something that I never wanted to be in. They shattered my mind and told me so. I recalled nothing. I was full of fear. Still am, choked up inside, I was told I was nothing yet I felt I was something otherwise I wouldn’t be there, right? Kept waiting to be recognised and taken away. It never happened.

Busy crowds, invisible faces

Crowds and events are super triggering for me. I am okay if I am well prepared but tonight I’m at an event and I didn’t organise myself properly. I should have known to come with a group (keep protected) and meet up earlier so I’m more grounded in the space. Nothing worse than turning up to a big screening alone and feeling out of place. It sets off anxiety and those internal feelings of displacement and shame. There’s film screenings first, then an after party but I might just slink away and go home to the doggies. I think it’s okay to be an introvert. I’m extroverted in spaces I feel comfortable, but I am not a big fan of superficial chatter and boozy events. Just waiting on S to arrive and we’ll go in together. It’ll be fine with her, she is not a huge fan of this stuff too which is good, though in some respects it can be good to be challenged and not hide with your partner. Otherwise things can become isolating. But agh, stuff it, what does it matter if I am not part of a sea of faces, where a level of falsity lies within the connections.

A letter to God

Dear God,

I don’t know how to have a relationship with you. We’re supposed to be best friends, you’re meant to be my Father, my great almighty lover, yet the thought of bringing you close to me feels weird and scary. Every night over the last few weeks you’ve heard my dark thoughts, asking when you are going to end this sadness, this despair that seems relentless. God, I feel you with the broken hearted. My heart is broken, when will you heal me? For what purpose? I feel persistently bad, guilty, as though my very existence is an offence to you and to others. I want to cry out but I am ashamed, I am embarrassed that I am so, so, so sad. It is in my bones. Do I even deserve healing when others suffer so? What will i be without these wounds? How do I love? How do I live? Every part of my being feels ashamed, it runs so damn deep Lord and I know you didn’t make me that way but it stings. It’s trapped in my skin. I wish you would trust me with knowing the truth about myself, I seem to only recall the feelings of disgust and guilt and worthlessness. It overrides memory, it just is. I don’t even know where it comes from. Won’t you rescue me now? How long will you make me cry out to you for?

Fragments of memory

My mind sometimes feels like a horror picture show. I close my eyes and it is dark, scary and filled with vile pictures and rememberings of self. Self covered in blood, self told she was worthless and filthy and disgusting and dirty. In my mind I repent on these lies, yet they come back to haunt me night after night.

My parts come out in bed at night. They are confused. They are poetic. They don’t know where they are. They show me flashes of terror induced nightmares. The other night I slept so deep, yet fragmented, I woke feeling as though my mind was splitting and I was finally going insane.

It passed.

I am here now but separate from me. I hate the look of me, yet I don’t know how I should look or feel. Just not like this. Sometimes it is good and normal and I function so damn well, I forget the fragmentation. Those days can be hard too because I revert back to thinking I am making everything up. It is an endless battle.

I’ve just got to keep plugging away. Taking action. Reflecting. Today I had a moment whereby I thought “it will be nice when I am old and retired”. The idea of living not so unrealistic anymore. Living in suicidal ideation for so many years, one gets used it it. It’s hard to see my future, my value, my worth. It’s just a dark patch I’m going through. Things have been good otherwise.

When depression hits like this, it just feels as though I am not of self. I stand outside of me and I am in bodies, not body. I am not whole or connected or strong. I possess no strength. But it passes. Something shifts eventually. I come back to self, a self, whoever she is meant to be, at that moment, in time.

Being triggered sucks

I dissociated last night. I went to boxing and it really triggered me. It was a fighters class. A woman I was partnered with in the sparring warm up drills was really tough and going at me quite hard. I kept freezing and not being able to respond, instead I just got hit lots. The woman who owns the gym could see and pointed it out a few times but it made me feel really self conscious and embarrassed. My parts started going off and I felt so bad and like a real loser. It took me back to when I was fighting and lost and it felt like further evidence that I was no good and shouldn’t be there. The trainer talked to me half way through and said that it was mental and physical, so if I could hold more balance in my body that might help. I could feel the tears welling up and I was trying to stop myself from crying but I couldn’t hold it in. I apologised and she said it was okay and was nice about it, but the effects of the experience had shook me and I walked outside and burst into deep, heavy tears. After about ten minutes I came inside just to grab my bag and the trainer asked me if the crying was good. I said, “it doesn’t feel good. I’m embarrassed”. She told me i shouldn’t feel that way (easier said than done) and asked me if that often happens. I wasn’t sure how to respond. I mean, yeah, sometimes, I guess. I felt even worse- as though I was in the wrong place and shouldn’t have brought my stupid trauma with me. I was a burden. I left and cried in my car and then the little ones came out for the rest of the night. They had been wanting to come out for a while. I went to bed dissociative and today am still shaken by the experience.

The other upsetting thing is that at the boxing, writing workshop I am running, i sparred with one of the girls and like the woman was hard with me last night, I was kind of hard with her. I certainly didn’t punch so hard but there was a flurry of punches which really threw her. She froze like me and couldn’t respond. It really triggered her and she cried afterwards. I stayed and we talked it through and we spoke on text the day after And we agreed that the experience was positive although it brought up a lot of stuff for her. Yesterday she texted me to say she wasn’t going to come to Saturday’s workshop as the sparring really screwed with her head and she needed some time off. I feel really bad and am assuming all responsibility. I shouldn’t have suggested going into the ring without more consideration. I feel terrible for hurting her and triggering her and subsequently am very triggered myself. Then being so crap at boxing last night just made me question why the hell I am even running these workshops as I don’t know what I am doing. I haven’t experienced this amount of self loathing in a while and it feels terrible.

Hidden anger

Ten minutes of unconscious writing. Okay here goes. We had the writing boxing workshop today and had to write for 15 mins based on a chosen prompt and then I suggested we write for another 1 minute 30 based on a second prompt. I wrote to the stimulus “body language” and man it was angry. I think that I am actually a really angry person but that it is buried so deep. I know at times I have felt such powerful rage within me, the feelings murderous. That’s why I started boxing and it has helped, if anything it has quelled it massively as I have discovered boxing is not about anger, it is about being present and the anger is a mask that is quickly stripped away in the ring, for me anyway.

I need to write this week what I am angry about- even though I don’t know what this is. I have to let the unconscious parts of me speak and let rip. They deserve to feel rage, be rage, do rage. I can handle it. The rage turned inwards for many years and it hurt. The rage tried to protect me but it smothered me. I hated people, yet it was really me I hated and I couldn’t stand that I felt hate. I never wanted to turn out like my father/ angry and intolerant and my mother/ pathetic and weak. Careful what you say. I can see it there and the UTI (metaphysical meaning of “being pissed off”) is fuelling my interest in getting to the bottom of these feelings. It is okay to be angry, it is okay to be upset. I was never allowed to feel. I only saw emotion as weak and scary. There is no gray. Hold me back. I’m ready to leap.