So for this year of 2013 I would like to add: Trigeminal Neuralgia.

A few months ago I was out all  morning in the cold wintry air. It was very windy and cold. No biggie. I got home and took a bath and felt possibly the worse pain I had ever felt, centered in my face. I was really glad that my husband wasn’t home because I was making all kinds of pain noises as what felt like lightning struck my face for what felt like forever.

After it passed I recalled that I had felt a similar pain once before probably within the previous month or so. It had been extremely painful but had lasted only a few seconds whereas this one was much, much longer.

I saw my neurologist about my migraines and I mentioned this pain before I left. She told me that it sounded like Trigeminal Neuralgia. They did an MRI last week because I’ve also been having numbness and twitching in my face. The MRI was stable meaning no changes from the last one ( I have one every year because of the migraines and a cyst I  have on a gland in my brain). That was good but it can also be annoying to constantly have health problems that don’t show up on tests. Don’t get me wrong, I would never want a serious illness. It’s just frustrating to have symptoms that a doctor can’t label and then they say, “Well everything looks fine. Call us if you get worse. Bye!” You know?

Anywho…I have now been prescribed Neurontin and we’ll see if that helps the pain which is now a daily, all-day thing.

So, I figured I’d share because you never know who else may be having similar problems.

P.S. I will also be writing an article for The World of Mentalist, so I need to get on that.

We were at religious services, and that’s a really important part of this story for reasons that will become clear.

We had picked up a older gentleman my parents knew to give him a ride and he sat with us. I dress appropriately at religious services out of respect for why I’m there…knee length or longer skirts or dresses, no low-cut tops etc. And yes I have a reason for saying this. During the service I crossed my legs in my modest outfit. The man was sitting next to me and he was shifting in his seat. My mother (who was sitting on my other side so she couldn’t see anything) then proceeded to lean over and tell me to stop crossing my legs because I was giving the man an erection.

Yep, that happened.

I remember that I froze in absolute horror and I’m pretty sure that I’ve never been more uncomfortable in my life. I became so still, I don’t think I moved for the next hour. I barely breathed because I was so horrified.

I don’t know why I wanted to tell this story but there it is. Maybe it’s because I think my mother is disgusting or maybe it’s because I wonder why, as an adult I get obsessed about my ability to give random men erections. I’ve written about that before…the way that I will see a man and wonder if I can arouse him. It bothers me. I don’t know if it started during this instance or not but it’s something that I don’t understand.

Well now that I’ve made everyone uncomfortable…

To start my last therapy session I told my therapist that I felt a need to have a “serious” discussion but I didn’t know how to start it or what to say. I had been reading the book I’ve been referring to and continuing to take hard looks at my psyche and questioning myself.

One part of the chapter about memory brought up the idea of a person creating a narrative in order to please a therapist who has suggested that abuse happened. I brought this concept up her and her response made me laugh. She said, “Well you’ve done a terrible job of that then haven’t you? You have no details and no story. You have the same two images repeating over and over and that’s it.”

Well…yea I admit I haven’t “come up” with much if I was trying subconsciously to please her but I think I needed to throw out another obstacle for myself. She also brought up her history with me of going on 12 years of being my therapist.

We got the serious part of the conversation in which I talked about my inability to believe that the flashes I see and their accompanying emotions are actually based in reality. I was having a hard time because I was feeling fear every time a flash happened. The images aren’t threatening in themselves; just a room and a narrow hallway. When I see them I automatically associate it with  my uncle for some reason.

I feel fear. My body tenses up…my stomach…and I get scared of what else I might see. The flashes are so fast though that I couldn’t reconstruct the picture to describe it to anyone.

For some reason I can’t quite remember everything my therapist said during that last session but whatever it was…it had something to do with who I am as a person in every circumstance in my life. The fact that I make it a practice not to lie. It is literally only in this one area that choose to believe things about myself that are not true. I am not a liar. I engage in fantasy but I always know what’s true and what isn’t and my fantasy is all about escape. I do not indulge in therapy for attention and I only talk about painful subjects when I have to. I get no pleasure out of it and do not seek attention from anyone.

So why do I have such a hard time believing these images and feelings? My therapist asked me to consider what it would mean if I did believe and my mind felt the fear for a split second and immediately recoiled from the idea. I understood what it would mean on a very small scale for a very brief moment.

On my way home I gave serious thought to our conversation. I felt like a turning point had been reached for me. And then the flashes stopped. They were just gone.

I could theorize that once I was ready to believe it, my mind decided that it didn’t want me to believe a lie but my gut…my gut says that the retreat into the hills is because of fear not lies. I could wrong about myself…so very wrong that it would rock the foundation of who I believe I am but if I am not a liar then what I feel is based on something real.

But I don’t know how to get my mind back. I don’t know how to get the images back. I’m hoping that I’m patient they will come back on their own but I don’t know. It’s very frustrating to feel like you’re on the precipice of something only to have the edge move away from you to a distance you can’t even see.

When I came to a section talking about the power of suggestion I made sure that I didn’t ignore it in favor of the section on memories cut off from consciousness. I feel it’s necessary to look at all possibilities when it comes to sexual abuse and not to only consider that everything I see must be real. Nor does it mean that everything I see is fake.

I found myself going back to the session when I first told my therapist about my uncle kissing me on my underwear. She was sure that it wouldn’t have been the first time he did something but for me, that was the first time I ever entertained the idea that anything else could have happened.

Without her meaning to, my therapist has made this process more difficult. I in no way believe she had some nefarious purpose and I remember the conversation we had the next visit because I was upset with her for saying that and I called her out on it. She apologized explaining that she goes off of her professional experience and her intuition in situations like that. She just spoke what she felt. I could accept that and we have since come to better understand how the other person communicates and processes information. But…it was still said and because of that I always wonder if I would have had these distressing thoughts about my uncle if she had said nothing about possible other abuses.

So, now I once again feel the need to look back at the “case” and once again put forward other facts in play. Sometimes it can be helpful to have things down in writing as it were.

I go back to when I first got married and my husband and I had been intimate. I had never been with anyone sexually before him (as far as I know). Afterwards I was laying in bed (I believe my husband was going to sleep) and I suddenly saw an image of my uncle and I started crying. That fact has always stuck with me in moments of doubt because it made no sense. I hadn’t thought of my uncle in years and years. He was nowhere in my thoughts until that moment. I think my husband asked me what was wrong but I can’t remember what I said. And just as quickly the whole incident was forgotten until I brought him up in therapy.

The other thing I look at is my more immediate reaction to my therapist’s thoughts about further abuse. My own thoughts became very specific. I thought of my uncle’s wife, about her leaving me alone with him. I did a collage about it at one point two years ago. ****

****I saw a narrow hallway with rooms off to the sides that was in keeping with the architecture of my hometown. I also had a perspective on the “scene” that was unusual. I told my therapist about something I had seen at one point and she pointed out that my perspective was from being on the floor where children play. In that she was correct and I’ve wondered from time to time why I would put my younger self on the floor automatically instead of on a couch or chair or whatever.

Yes, she suggested that a man would not pick up a little girl and kiss her on her panties in a house with people around him as a “first move”. But I’m the one whose mind started displaying “details” or environments and scenarios that had nothing to do with what she said. She never once said, where or how etc. There are other things that I’ve seen or felt but I picked out two.

I feel that to be responsible I have to ask myself if I am that open to having my mind influenced? Honestly? I’m not. I am a person who tries to form a cohesive unit with those I am around socially so that we can all get along and find common ground. But if a person tells me something or suggests something I don’t just accept it. I have to prove it to myself first. I either do that based on personal experience and/or previous knowledge or if I have none, I research the matter in order to form my own opinion. And while I try to understand other people’s feelings or conclusions, if my own don’t match I don’t defer to the other person.

I think the power of Me is stronger than ideas. This doesn’t help my own struggles but I find it helpful to re-evaluate myself and my process from time to time.

I hope that in another 3 years I can look back and see some of the progress I’d like to make.

There was a teenager I was trying to reach out to. I had an inkling that something was off in her household and I wanted to offer to be a friend for her. I ended up being right but I was also very triggered by our conversation. There are adults aware of the situation including the teen’s mother and I plan on making sure that the other adult and I have a conversation about what’s going on. I’ve been waiting to hear back from the teenager but even though we’ve been around each other a couple of times, she hasn’t told me what I was waiting to hear.

For my own conscience I will have to follow-up with the adult I feel is in a better position to help her but I also realized afterwards that I can’t put myself in the position of being responsible for her. I can only say what I think needs to be done but there were things the teen needed to do for me to help her and she hasn’t done that yet. Of course I get that she’s not quite an adult yet so that’s where the adult that’s closer to her comes in. Hopefully her parent will get on board as well and I’ve also suggested therapy, medical help and police involvement.

I think once you’ve done everything you can, you have to know your limits. It’s difficult because of all the stories I’ve heard where adults didn’t help the victim and I don’t want to be that person but I also don’t have super powers to change things or make people do what they need to do.

I felt one of the most important things I could do was to tell her I believed her and to listen to her story. I did those things and gave her my thoughts on the situation. There are things that are out of my control and I have to be careful since I was highly triggered. I don’t have the mental or emotional stamina to be someone’s anchor or rock in my real life in a situation like this where I see these people all the time. But I will do what I can to get resources in on what’s going on.

When speaking to my therapist about this I became very emotional… in my own way that is. When that happens, I don’t cry. I get quite calm and analytical, almost detached and I state that I am feeling a certain way almost as if I’m observing some strange specimen. My therapist wanted me to stay with the feelings but I couldn’t identify exactly why I had been triggered by discussing it with her. It was one of those times when my therapist honed in on the heart of the matter with scary precision.

She asked me if I’d had anyone to talk to when I was that age. I shook my head…maybe I got out a “No” before the tears came. I hadn’t realized that the emotions ran that deep. I felt selfish for crying about myself but there it is.

I’ve also noticed that as I wrote this post, I repeatedly stated that I was going to do what I could to help and I think it’s because I’m afraid that you guys will blame me or think I’m not doing enough or worse…that I’m like all the adults who didn’t help us.

So much for a short post.

I restricted my calories for a just a few days and exercised briefly like I did when my eating disorder was in full force and it’s frightening how much it felt like getting into a warm bath; it was very comfortable and all too easy.

I can see that my thoughts are already beginning to reason on things the way they did when this all started. It’s so easy. It’s soothing even.

It doesn’t help that I was “rewarded” with weight loss. But the anxiety from being overweight so soon after losing so much was unbearable.

I don’t know how to lose weight and keep calm without falling back into old behaviors. If my weight could just stay at a place I could breathe through then I could hold out until my body recovers from the ED.

I also have no desire to distract myself from my goal of remembering…if there is anything to remember. When my ED was raging, that part of me shutdown and I don’t want that.

Maybe I need to explore if there is something else at work here. Several bad things have happened to people I know and it’s possible I’ve been triggered without realizing it.

Maybe I will write about those events soon.

I decided that I would restrict today, eating as little as possible which is of course going backwards but I’m not equipped with the knowledge of how to handle this weight gain.

I read about people recovering from anorexia experiencing edema in their tissues and other areas but I have no way of knowing if that’s what’s happening.

I’m almost back to the weight I was at when this started and that knowledge is crushing my heart. I’m sitting here (after trying a little exercise but my eating disorder mega stamina has disappeared so I could only do a little) and I just want to cry.

Going backwards will not help me but I have no guidance in what to do or what to expect. I didn’t get any recovery help because the person who was supposed to be an expert on ED’s (my therapist) would have to charge me more if I come in with some sort of crisis or whatever.

All sorts of violent images flashed in my head when I saw the number on the scale this morning and I have no idea what to do to get some control over this situation. I cannot, CANNOT let this situation get out of control! I can’t! But I’m also at a loss on what to do.

My body is so messed up right now that nothing is working right but I also can’t stand the gain. Going back won’t help but going forward is unacceptable.

The norm?

Recently I have been thinking about the impact my stepfather had on my upbringing and home life. He wasn’t abusive to me in a physical or sexual way but it wasn’t until a few weeks ago that I realized he still affected me in a negative way.

It has made me think of the expectations society teaches kids to have when they become part of a stepfamily. Cinderella had an evil stepmother and evil stepsisters. Is that what children should expect when a parent marries someone who is not their biological father or mother?

In thinking about this I realized that had accepted the stories of horrible stepfamilies as okay. It was expected that the person your biological parent married would never love you or treat you like their own. Stories tell us that stepparents hate the offspring of their new spouse and will act accordingly.

But you know what? It’s not okay.

When my mother married my stepfather I was forced to call him Dad because his military background would allow nothing less than the respect he demanded. But he was not my dad. I didn’t actually know what a “dad” was because my real father was never married to my mother and he never lived with us. In fact by the time I was six years old I didn’t see him again until I was almost a teenager.

My mother was already abusive when she married my stepfather and his presence didn’t change anything. Into the marriage he also brought a son whom he did not want (he was a product of a previous affair). Neither of us was wanted by this man and I felt it everyday.

My stepfather never showed affection to his son or to me. the only person he was affectionate with my mother. It was very obvious that our presence was not wanted and that he barely tolerated it because I was packaged deal with my mother. I remember frowns of disgust and hard looks that told me how much he wished I wasn’t there. We faked it in family pictures but I’ve always been good at smiling when required.

People may say that he and mother never had time to be alone together because they both had kids right off the bat. Well guess what? That’s what you get when you marry someone with kids and if you don’t like it then why the hell are you marrying that person?

Living in a home with an abusive mother and a man who seemed to wish I was dead was not a happy time. I had to call him “dad” but he did nothing but pay the bills. He wasn’t allowed to physically discipline me as they had decided that each parent would (physically) discipline their own child, but he took out his disgust and anger on my stepbrother. I remember listening to his screams when my stepfather would beat him with the belt. It makes me sick.

And they wonder why my stepbrother got out of the house as fast as he could? Why I moved out the second I could?

I don’t care what the fairytales say. Maybe it isn’t always possible to love kids who aren’t yours by blood but if you can’t at least like the child or children your perspective spouse has, you shouldn’t marry them. Children can tell when they are unwanted and it affects their whole lives.

(I do believe that there are happy stepfamilies out there. This is about my own experience)