I’ve written before about the various abuses which happened while I was growing up. It was the mental abuse which has had the longest affects. I’ve struggled with anxiety and the fear of making mistakes for decades after the chief abuser, my father, died.
After invoking a memory of a situation with my father, one counselor asked me to describe the current state of anxiety associated with that memory, on a scale of one to ten. I asked what the score would be if someone were holding a loaded, cocked shotgun to your chest. He said a ten, so I said that my (then) current anxiety concerning the memory was a ten.
One cause was that I grew up with the fear that in one of his out-of-control, raging storms my father would kill me. Not too long ago, my mother confirmed that she was afraid that my father would slip past that thin line from just average physical abuse and become deadly. That she remained speaks mountains for her state of mind.
It took three or four years of work with this counselor to be better at separating current anxiety from the past. There were many days I would have forty or fifty anxiety attacks in the five to seven range, and a half dozen at eight plus. (I sometimes would keep track, it’s surprising how much it adds up.)
I remember the first day that I got home from work after not having had any attacks that day. I was such a great feeling, like a huge burden had been lifted off my shoulders. Being able to buy ice cream without worrying if were the right choice or just having a quiet moment to myself felt so good.
The other side was the deep sadness, hurt and pain. Without an outlet as a child, it becomes part of your identity, and it was difficult to move past that.
Fortunately, the work with the counselor has paid off. I’ve been going through some more anxiety recently, but I’m able to use the various techniques I learned there, plus a few more I picked up on my own and can talk myself out of the VFA, or vague feelings of anxiety, as I call it.
Although I’ve struggled for many years, I keep working. I’m to the point I feel comfortable raising children, which is good since Beta-chan in on the way. I know that there are no perfect parents, but I’ll do better than my father.
I’m also fortunate that I found a wonderful person to share my life with. We love each other deeply. She naturally good natured, and has been a really stabilizing influence.
Other siblings have had mixed results. My oldest brother had had a stable job, but cut everyone out of his life. When I confronted him a few years back, he wouldn’t take responsibility for raping me, so I don’t know if he’s made peace with the situation.
My oldest sister is doing well, homeschooling her two kids. Second sister is a complete mess and I’ve written about my mentally ill younger brother. The later two seem to feel that they don’t need to support themselves and should receive handouts from my mother.
