Done (again…)

 

My new kitten, Lucy

This is Little Lucy Lou my new kitty. She is about seven weeks old in this photo taken on August 1, 2019. Lucy is a Tortoise Shell type kitty with the tabby markings to boot. Her stripes slowly turn into spots as they move to her underside. Her markings are not unheard of, but on the other hand, she’s not in the majority of the different types of kitties. She’s a sweetie.

I have to say, this is probably the one time I’ll actually cry when saying good bye to a therapist.   I fight trusting people.  Trust is hard for me to give.  So many people I should have been able to trust for love and support have hurt me.  I am talking in terms of childhood.  But, that ability to trust damaged so many years ago, still exists.  It’s further away, not quite so powerful.  But, still there is always a typical cycle I go through when I meet anyone, and a therapist must wait through an even longer ‘cycle’.  

I sit back and I participate to the best of my ability, but I do not give trust.  I can talk about ANYTHING with ANYONE, but that does not mean that I feel particularly close to you, nor does it mean I trust you.  It just means that I am an open book and there isn’t much if anything anyone can use against me in terms of ‘secrets’.    

Having said that, there are details to some situations that I have never told a single person.  This is not because I distrust, or that I am hiding anything.  It is simply that the details are so disgustingly abusive in nature that I would not put another person through the details unless they were specifically warned first.  I’ve just never gone there. 

So, should I decide I trust you, and don’t ask me when that moment comes and how I know.  It is a very gradual process, and at some point, I realize I do trust, and I realize how free I feel.  In my mind, that is truly a day to celebrate.  There are few in my life that I truly trust.  And so, I begin to let the wall that protects me come done…not all at once but in tiny bits and pieces.  Still testing who you are and if I can trust.  

It has taken a long, long time.  I’m not sure anymore how long I’ve been seeing this particular therapist.  Five–six years maybe??  It’s been one of my longest if not the longest therapeutic relationships I’ve had. 

She’s been patient as I learn to trust.  I know, it’s her job.  She lets me take side trips into topics that I love: science, history, culture, physics, astronomy.  She gets excited about the same things I do.  Last session I found out that her minor was in Physics.  My reaction was “wow, I want to pick your brain.” I realized some couple of years ago that she and I would be great friends in the outside world.  

First I mentioned it to Clyde who encouraged me to ‘friend’ her in the real world.  I told him how that would be professionally unethical on her part.  She can not ethically be my friend.  Which I feel is really sad.  When people know where the boundaries are and respect them, which is something we’d both do, then there is no reason two real people can’t be friends.  

That said, as part of a conversation, I let her know that I’d love to have her for a friend, but acknowledged that I understand that there are ethics involved.  And this little discussion happened before I was aware of what I am now aware of.  

During my last session my therapist let me know that she was giving her 2 weeks notices so to speak.  I think I have one more session with her this week.  

This lady has been patient with me.  She’s told me when I was wrong, or unhealthy.
She’s encouraged me when I was right, or healthy.  She’s given me hope when I felt all was lost.  She’s reminded me to never say never.  

She has left me with a choice.  She can refer me to another therapist.  Or I can walk away and see how it goes handling life on 100% on my own.  I have a tendency to do alright doing just that until someone decides to be manipulative.  I still have issues  dealing with that.  My kids are particularly hard for me to deal with that way.  I want to love unconditionally.  But, that is impossible once I realize I’ve been manipulated.  And so a war starts in my mind, and I am so hard on myself as I look the other way while they play me like a fiddle.    And the sad part of it, is that all four of them do it.  

My therapist believes I am in a great place and that I don’t need therapy right now.  She thinks I’ll be just fine.  My gut reaction to the situation is that is exactly what I will do.  Have her not refer me, but make a note in my file that some things still have not been fixed (or addressed sufficiently for me) but that I am sure willing to at the very least take a break and see how it goes.   I do believe after all these years that the ‘picking’ habit will never be broken.  It is ingrained and when I am under the worst of stress (that I can handle at least)–it is a go to behavior.  Mostly it happens in my sleep, it’s not like I have any control.  I had stopped for a long, long time.  But, it started back up, especially bad after my son got out of prison.  

I think I am easily triggered.  I am 100% that I have genetics that predispose me to PTSD.  Having said that conflict with those around me, kids, and significant others, serious conflicts lead to picking.  My significant other can not stand to see the kids manipulate me.  He can not leave it alone and let me figure it out and deal with it.  He tries but, it’s pretty much impossible for him.  Over the long haul I am usually pressured to act.  He has no idea how he makes me feel.  But, he makes me feel like I have to ‘choose’.   For the most part the reality is, he’s correct.  But, knowing how I am being treated does not mean that I do not love my kids.  And so I feel torn to pieces while trying to love both at the same time.  The only cure we’ve found is distance.    

The bottom line is that he is tired of supporting manipulative kids.  Lazy kids.  Kids that don’t pull their own weight, nor try.  Kids who fail to see that they could be helpful and  actually participate in and be a healthy piece of the family.  There is no help with housework.  If they see something on the floor for example, that needs picked up.  For the most part the item lays there. 

I do the dishes for everyone.  There is no dishwasher.  One of the things that hurt me most (and this happened quite some time ago) is when my oldest who did not in general help with housework in anyway, found a new guy, came over to visit and decided to cook.  Found a pot which was ‘too’ dirty to use.  She washed it with a loud and clear judgement.  The hurt comes when the kid didn’t help while here, and lived in the worst pig sty I’ve ever seen, and I’ve seen some bad stuff, so bad as a matter of fact, that I turned two people in to the police because they had kids living in the mess.   I needed glasses at the time, I was having trouble seeing tiny things.  She should have kept her opinion to herself.  The kids don’t realize, and I am unsure if they even care, how much they hurt me sometimes. 

The list goes on and on.  The bottom line to all this is that as a mother, I am done.  Soon, my youngest will be moved out (again), this time I asked her to go.  I told her it was time for  me to throw her out of the nest, which is true.    And she has been informed that if she needs to come back, it will be under the same circumstances that her brother left in.  She’ll need to arrange for a trailer, save money to have it moved here with, and live in the trailer.  Should this happen, she must plan to pay rent because we can not afford to subsidize her or any other kid for that matter. 

Having her moved out will put distance between myself and all my children.  For the most part a very healthy distance.  One of them living a couple hour drive away has been particularly helpful to my mental health.  I don’t think I could have dreamed of going back to school if he were still living here. 

Once my youngest is gone, I have no idea if I will have that empty nest syndrome that is spoken about.  I’ve thought about it, and I enjoy life far too much to think that will be a bother for me.  But, I can see on the quiet days where I might just be a little bit sad and that I won’t have that beloved therapist to fall back on with those sad feelings.  

I am going to miss her.  I’m 1000% positive that I will cry over a therapist for the first time.  Probably for the first time, I actually got ‘attached’ to a therapist. Which is the goal for some types of therapy.  I trusted..and while, this eventually had to happen.  I trusted and the person I trusted, left again.  It is a proper part of this particular cycle.  

I send many positive thoughts, and wishes of good luck.  Warm fuzzies, as many hugs as she can handle,  Mostly, I want to send appreciation and thankfulness for all this lady did for me.  

Indeed, I will miss her…and I will cry. 

In life, I will continue on…. after all, I’m a Beaver girl now!

Xan — xoxo

Go Beaver's (Decal--Beaver head on a Oregon shaped background). Oregon State University, Corvallis, Oregon.

Go Beavs!

 

 

About PeggyAnn

Professional PC Consultant, Researcher, & avid people watcher, Peggy Ann Rowe started into her genealogical quest at age 15 after watching the mini-series, "Roots" with her parents. This new obsession has fueled her love of history, & study of cultures & societies in every epoch. Today she is 57 years old with four kids who are all grown up (& all have flown the coop). In between her 'gigs' with clients she volunteered at many different non-profits. Former President, Secretary, and Director at Large on the board of the Douglas County Historical Society for 10+ years, and former Secretary at the Cloverdale Historical Society (Sonoma County) for nearly 10 years. This website is an attempt to share the knowledge she has gained about her family ties with others who may be interested in the same things. She does not guarantee 100% accuracy and does hope that you will send corrections. To learn more about her, click the "about" button in the page menu. Thanks! Another goal of this website is to disseminate a message (i.e. education) about domestic violence, child abuse, and all forms of sexual abuse to society at large. The message comes from real experience from the whole spectrum of the violence from sexual abuse by a perpetrator to sexual abuse perpetrated by a husband, to the abuse of children within the family. Peggy has seen it, lived it, and been hurt by it. There will on occasion be details that might be hard for some people to read, and a warning is usually posted at the beginning of the essay so that those who want to turn and not read may do so. The only way to teach and to let others learn what to avoid is to SHARE what happened with every detail necessary to make the point. Thank you.
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