The last few nights, even before my therapy session, have been really bad. I’ve had racing thoughts torment me from bipolar disorder before but now the thoughts that are racing are all about what I saw and felt during this last body memory. I tried yesterday to stay focused on something else, which worked during the day, but last night even my clothes felt uncomfortable. I wanted to go somewhere, anywhere, even though it was past midnight, I just wanted to get out! I almost went downstairs to sleep on the couch. I had to take a second sleeping pill because one wasn’t enough to even make a dent (I’m allowed to increase that at my own discretion). I’m not sure what to do with all of this. I was already having problems with anxiety and panic related to the bipolar thing. The feelings from the whole abuse thing are different, I can tell, but the two together aren’t helping matters. I dreamed about my insane mother last night and I’m sure it’s because of the six month window I put on not talking to her. For some reason I’m stressing about it even though it’s not up until around April. She doesn’t know that her ban has been extended into infinity because, obviously, we’re not talking. I guess I’m already stressing about her trying to get in touch with me in a few months and having to rehash the whole thing. She was making all kinds of threats before and I don’t know what she’ll do. BUT I have to remember that she can’t make me do anything and I’m not going to borrow trouble since this won’t an issue for quite a while.
I have nothing in me to make collages or anything which sucks. I’ve got my abuser’s name swirling in my head and part of me wants to be re-traumatized again because it says that I deserve it. I’m not planning on giving in to that though. My therapist had wanted me to pick out my favorite childhood picture which I did. It was one from when I was about 2 years-old and it was before anything had happened to me with either my mother or the “Uncle” I look like such a happy carefree child and I don’t connect her with the child I see later who wears a football helmet to protect her mouth. It’s like looking at two different people. My therapist said that the picture I chose as my favorite is of a child who hadn’t lost her innocence yet but she defined what she meant by innocence. She wasn’t talking about sexual innocence she said that the 2 year-old child still believed that everything in the world was ok, that people would take care of her and never hurt her. She could trust everyone around her. That’s the innocence that was lost. The 4 year-old knew differently. She knew that she could be hurt and that she couldn’t trust anything. She knew that the world was not safe. I still can’t feel compassion for the 4 year-old. While talking to my therapist I told her that one of the reasons is because of my height. I’ll explain that. I have always been very tall for my age. I was 24 inches long when I was born for God’s sake! In the pictures I see, I may be 4 but I’m so tall! I look at her and I think that she was big enough to fight him off! My therapist said that no matter how tall I was, I still had the mind of a 4 year-old which is what matters. I’m truing to believe that. It’s just that I don’t look that fragile and vulnerable. When she says to imagine a little 4 year-old and to think of myself like that, I can’t because 4 year-old’s are little, they’re tiny! I wasn’t fragile, I was tall! Tall enough to do something!
I don’t want the night to be like this but nothing helps. I always need some kind of noise around me 24/7 and even that’s not helping. I’ve been listening to an audiobook at night and that’s not helping. Nothing helps. I’m not expecting anyone to say anything that will help. I expect no words of wisdom, I just wanted to talk.