My whole life I've felt like I am damaged goods, like the junk thrown on shelves and marked as clearance because they are broken and no one is going to want them unless they can use them for a different purpose. And, in a way, that's true. No wants an abused and damaged older child when they can get a fresh, brand new baby that hasn't been broken yet. The few people who tried to take me and fix the broken pieces never could and usually when you break something and can't put it back together you throw it away. I get it. It makes sense to me. It just doesn't feel very good.
So I try not to let the people see the broken, other than my blog and my therapists. Even with my therapists I hold a lot back. The first time I had a flashback in therapy (right before Thanksgiving) I freaked out and told my therapist that I didn't want to see her anymore. I assumed she was going to dump me after seeing how screwed up I really am so I tried to dump her first. Whenever I think someone thinks negatively of me or that I've upset them or that the relationship is in trouble, or that I might be dumped I run around in a panic not knowing what to do. I'm so panicked that there are no real rational thoughts. Basically I no longer have the ability to think. I'm all impulse and the impulse is to just turn off the source of my anxiety--people. I either lash out so that people will leave or I give them a list of reasons to leave and ignore them. I always feel like such an asshole when I've calmed down and can see things more clearly.
This last week has been so intense for me. The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo movie was hard for me, but I was already feeling pretty bad before that. The next couple of weeks mark anniversaries of the loss of two significant people in my life. But I don't want them to share a blog entry so I'm only going to write about Tim.
Tim died in January. Since that fucking movie I've been obsessively reading and rereading all these tribute pages to him. I hate him. I freaking hate him, but there is this little part of me that still misses him. I want all these people who call him a "gentle loving soul" to know what he was to me. I want them to know who he really was, but then I can't do that. That would only hurt the people who loved him. It's not their fault he did what he did. I can't sleep because the minute I close my eyes my brain thinks about him. I have these strange dreams where I am him and I'm hurting other children and then I wake up and need to vomit.
I walk around very calm and quiet but on the inside I'm running around like I'm barefoot and stuck on a path of glass and hot coal. I have so many feelings, so many mixed feelings, all just as intense as the next. Many of them are contradictions and many of them make me hate myself. I'm flooded with these fucking intense and insane and irrational feelings. I'm flooded with so much hate for myself. Why am I able to find ways to feel compassionate for a man who violently and repeatedly raped a tiny little girl and damaged her for life, but I am totally incapable of finding compassion for myself?
I feel compassion towards my childhood rapist. I give him all the compassion and take all the blame. I give all the blame to that tiny 9 year old little girl who was still slightly under 4 feet tall and 65 pounds. I want to look back and see that little girl, but I just look back and see me. I look back and see how I've always felt about myself or all the things I've been told I am. I look back and remember how she felt about herself, so that's how I see her too. I can't see an innocent little girl. I just see a fucked up piece of garbage that screwed up everything in my life. I look back and I hear all the names people used to call me. I look back and see all the people who didn't want her. I look back and hate her for how I feel today. I hate her because she's eating me alive today. I think of her and I feel so much rage and helplessness. Sometimes I beg her to go away. I feel so much compassion for all the adults in my life that abused and abandoned me as a child, but so much hatred for that child I used to be. It's backwards and fucked up. How do I forgive her?