Layers

I've been in much thought about my childhood as of late.  Not a subject that I particularly enjoy - but one that must be endured, especially as I work thru this current addictive process that I an incurring.  I gave up my credit cards - only to open up another charge account.  I'm not certain what I was thinking.  Oh I know what I was thinking - I want a new coffee table and a new rug for my new apartment - but how ridiculous?  It is so sneaky and pervasive.  I lie to myself - the denial is so strong.  I don't want to be accountable - and I want to have what I want, when I want it.   I want the control.  And that is it.  Control.

My recent session with my therapist was about the feelings associated with where I am at with my mom.  She's past now and I've not shed a single tear.  I know that this isn't normal.  However, I'm so conflicted.  I do miss her, but not the relationship that we had.  We had no relationship.  It was a facade.  A superficial facade.  This feels very sad and there are so many times when I am saddened because I did not have a real relationship with my mother.  This is compounded with multiple feelings.  Sadness, anger, rage - feelings of nothingness --- inadequacy, defectiveness, and shame.  Please know that my transparency - and the reasoning behind it is in the hope against hope that someone somewhere might be enlightened by my honesty.  There has to be others out there that had mother's like mine.  I know that there are because I've read about them at Psychology Today's website.  I've read other blogs about it and the comments.  I know that I'm not the only one.

My mother was evil.  So evil in fact that I've blocked out pretty much the entirety of my childhood.  I cannot remember hardly anything.  People share about "when I was 6"..... and I just sit there...astonished at how they can recall the information.  I remember hiding in closets, and under this huge claw footed dining room table that we had with a big table cloth on it.  I'd hide for hours on end.  I did not matter anyway - and I was invisible in my family.  My words did not matter, I had no voice. My presence did not matter - all I do remember was getting into trouble or being criticized by my mother, so why not hide?  It felt safer.  Safer than always being afraid.  Fear was all that I knew.  I was either being beaten up by my brothers, or yelled at by my mom.

Now this isn't the way that my brothers would tell it.  No, they saw a whole different life for me.  They believed that I was spoiled rotten.  It may have looked that way, but it didn't feel that way.  I don't know if either of them have ever read my blog (I doubt it) but I'd be surprised if they had.... my eldest brother hates me.  I'm not sure as to why.  He actually doesn't even know me.  I have cousin's and nieces that I have no contact with.  Quite dysfunctional.  What I did, I do not know.  Speak?  Try and be a person?  That must be it.  For I've never had a voice, and it was preferred.

At any rate - my addictive behaviors all stem from the family of origins.  I'm trying to heal.  Addiction is a pervasive illness.  It stems from a feeling of emptiness.  A void.  A lack.  What I like to call "The Black Whole."  It's shucked many people and many things into it, and they don't come back out.  It's wreaked havoc in my life for many a year.  It morphs and changes to suit the timing in my life.  I praise God that it's not drugs and alcohol now, but it's still got control of me, nonetheless.  It still wants fed.  It reminds me of a line from the movie, 'The Never Ending Story',  "Those who have no hope are easily controlled."  Yet I have hope.  At least I think I do.  Perhaps a part of me has given up because of the difficulty that I have in trusting.  It even affects my relationship  with God.  I really have a great deal of distain in saying/admitting this.  How does a person learn to trust when they couldn't trust one of the most important people in their lives???  An my father wasn't much help.  He did not protect me either.  My mother was in control.  Definitely.  She wore the pants in the family.  Sadly I say.

Somehow this will work itself out.  I did give up my cards - even if I did open up a line of credit - I only charged a small amount.  I don't have any intentions of charging more.  I know that I have to get this under control.  I work on trusting God everyday - and I don't even know if it's a lack of trust of God - or it's just lack of trust of myself.  I'm in some kind of process - and I'm not even sure what it is.

Things are going well, I've friends now at least.  My new home is wonderful, and I'm in church.  I actually had weekend plans last week.  People are coming to visit.  I have one friend I can see right now is only out for themselves - and I have got to axe that.  But things are going well, and I have goals.  I'm going to try and volunteer at the place where I go to therapy.  I'm going to go today.  I know that I will feel a lot better if I'm useful.

God will help me heal.  I've prayed for healing - and He will help me heal.  Writing helps.  Hope helps.  Being and getting in touch with my feelings associated with it, helps.  God will guide my steps.  This I do trust.  I know that God is doing for me what I cannot do for myself.  I believe, and I have faith that God helps me daily make better choices than I made the day before.  God is healing me where I don't have the answers.  I cannot undo what she did or didn't do.  Only God can do this.  I cannot make a relationship where there was none.  Only God can do this.  He will guide my steps and  heal my heart - like only God can do.  I have to just hold on, keep believing, and have faith.  Healing takes time, and I deserve it.  This is the hardest part to believe - that I matter, but I do.