Raging Relapse

3 a m and wide awake with a tight chest, racing thoughts, feelings of hopelessness . . . .

anxiety creeps in and I can no longer sleep or even rest. I walk outside in my bathrobe onto the deck in the chilly night just to try to relax and breathe. I whimper, and pray the best I can to let go of and surrender to LOVE the anxiety that has swept over me . . .

It all began  . . . .

Last night as I told my spouse that I can't live in our current residence any longer !

A series of events preceded this dilemma . . . .

Five years ago my Dad died (yes, my abuser) and mom came to live with us for nearly 2 years until my older brother moved her out for his own ulterior reasons.We lost our home 3 years ago after I left my job due to a harrassing boss; my spouse started a construction company at the same period of time in a sinking economy.

Everything caved in on us all at once !

We moved from 2400 SF into a cozy 500 SF granny flat connected to my nephew's expansive home above us on a lovely hillside overlooking the city. I knew that we wouldn't stay for long, yet 3 years have already passed.

Have I already said that I am a compulsive cleaner and need order to feel peaceful in my environment ???
Living with my spouse, a dog,  a cat my spouse and the property impacted with construction tools I often feel irritable and clostrophobic.

Last night as I drove home I was dreading our conversation, knowing it wouldn't be pleasant.

A little piece of history . . . .

My spouse was raised in Belgium by his grandparents because his parents were both factory workers who didn't own a car so he only saw them on weekends. Needless to say, some unresolved issues . . .

As soon as I shared my frustration, he became defensive. I was too abrupt when I said that I can't stand it anymore and basically said that we HAVE to move ! Things progressed downhill quickly, without going into the ugly details.

I want to preface this confession with the fact that both J and I are a thoughtful and generous couple who work together helping others and making creative projects, the positive aspect of our relationship. He is well loved by everyone we know; and most of the time I feel happy with our marriage. Before our moved, I was able to compartmentalize the STUFF into rooms and the garage and didn't feel overwhelmed.

One major weakness in our relationship is that our communication SUCKS !!!

As soon as I was accused of being selfish regarding details of the changes I want to make, my wounded heart perceived J as being my abusive, controlling, oppressive father who said that I would never make it without him. So the raging wounded child in me started YELLING for 5 minutes . . . .then I caught myself midstream and walked outside . . .

Called my daughter, took a bath and a sleep aid . . .

However . . .  I awakened abruptly at 3 . . .

3 am is the witching hour for me . . . this is the time I was consistently yanked out of bed to be taken to another place of horrors . . .

Whenever I have a disagreement I tend to awaken at 3 am . . . no amount of journaling, therapy, and years of acknowledging and letting go of memories has healed this area completely. Yet, I experience a far less degree of anxiety and don't use anti-anxiety medications any more. Step by step . . .

Knowing full well that the wounded child in me is terrified I am at times unable to console her. No amount of reassurance that she is in a safeplace will lull her into reverie.

Thankfully, the one key mantra for me that is working is that I consciously start thinking about other children that I know who are suffering. When I begin praying for their safety and healing I am able to calm myself better and usually can slumber again.

I know that in time I will learn better to communicate because I already have made improvements. But once PTSD sets in, the road out is very difficult.

In retrospect I could have approached this need in a positive way by suggesting that we set of goal of 6 months, saving enough money for the cost of moving. Instead, I sabotaged myself by making an ultimatum.

I am humbled by my woundedness and pray that I will continue to heal in this area so that I may be a more loving and reasonable partner.

Shopping: My Drug of Choice

I'd rather be shopping at Nordstroms !

This statement used to frame my license plate.

When my daughter told me that she would go with me to Nordstroms so that I wouldn't spend so much money, I knew my secret was out !

Raised in a low income home, we had very few essentials; at times we had no hot water or electricity and I didn't even have a pair of shoes when I went to second grade. I felt ashamed and embarrassed !

I always vowed that one day I would have lots of fine things in my life.

I kept my promise to myself. As my first husband became a successful architect my dreams began to be realized.

The problem was that I couldn't say NO to anything I adored ! It didn't matter what it was, I just had to have it at that moment. I often hid purchases in the closet thinking that what my spouse didn't see he wouldn't notice.

When Imelda Marcos was exposed for her obsessive overindulgences, I personally owned over 150 pairs of shoes. I felt slightly embarrassed but still didn't acknowledge that I had a serious spending problem.

I ignored my behavior and so did my spouse; he had his own issues. We maintained an unspoken agreement to remain silent about our self-sabotaging behaviors.

Eventually, the truth was revealed; we were headed for bankruptcy. We blamed it on the economy. The truth is that if I had not spent so much we could have saved for a downturn in the economy.

I still continued my addictive behavior; I refused to acknowledge my destructive habit and kept spending.

When my spouse was offered a lucrative job in Moscow, Russia I soon had more money that I had ever imagined and I spent it on trips, clothes, and gifts. No matter how much he made I managed to spend to the max !

When my first marriage finally dissolved and I left the extravagant lifestyle, reality set in; I couldn't hide my addiction from myself any longer.

I'd like to say that I immediately changed and became frugal; unfortunately, it has taken several years for me to overcome my compulsive behavior.

When I get angry, bored, discouraged, anxious or even excited the first thing I want is a FIX !

My compulsive shopping is no different than using a drug to numb myself from facing uncomfortable situations in my life. I was running away from my own suffering. My childhood was fraught with abuse so I tried to comfort myself and to fill the emptiness. It seemed easier to avoid the source of my pain than to face it. My first instinct was to run !

Over time I began facing my discomfort and noticed that my urge to shop or run away lessened.

Now I hold myself accountable and so does my spouse. Whenever I want to purchase something, I discuss it with him to decide whether or not it is a necessary expenditure.

I rarely shop alone; when I do, I create a list and a price range and stay within a budget. I have started a savings account and am learning to plan for future goals and dreams.

With Christmas arriving, I already feel the excitement of shopping.

Yesterday I went to a mall and purchased items on my list for my grandchildren, keeping within my reasonable limits. As I was leaving I walked through a new store on my way out and noticed lots of things that I would love to wear. The adrenaline began pumping through my entire body. I felt intoxicated, and wanted to spend, spend, spend ! I recognized the self-sabortaging sign and immediately left the store. Calling my daughter in the parking lot, I confessed that I felt like an alcoholic at a bar and had to remove myself from temptation.

When I got home I shared the entire experience with my spouse. He told me how proud he was that I had stayed on my projected course and even spent less than I had originally planned, buying only sale items.

I am encouraged that I am learning to overcome my self-destructive pattern. I know that I am still vulnerable and need to be aware of my feelings so that I don't fall into the same trap again.

I now surrender my uncomfortable moments to God and humbly asking that He fill the empitness with more of Himself.

Shopping till I drop is no longer my slogan !

Miscommunication

Talking with my daughter-in-love about the upcoming Thanksgiving dinner she is hosting for our family, we were discussing details about the food preparation and equipment needed.

I excitedly told her that I planned to prepare a vegetarian dish for my granddaughter and perhaps a cranberry dish as well.

As soon as these words left my lips, her facial expression changed from joyful enthusiasm to discouragement. I suddenly realized that I had said too much and had hurt her feelings; something I would never intentionally want to do.

When she walked out the door heading for work I felt the tension between us and tried to fix it by backtracking, which didn't help alleviate her suffering. After I thought it over for a few minutes I sent her a quick apology via text and mentioned that I didn't mean to take over her dinner plans, only wanted to help, but was just chattering away without thinking; this is my usual style of communication.

I didn't hear back from her for a few hours. During that time I agonized over what I could have done differently; then I went to a very dark place inside myself.

I called my spouse and blubbered that I felt unappreciated and like a second-class citizen ! After all, I was only trying to help!  I mentioned all the things I do for my family and how I always do what they want. I was crying and feeling sorry for myself.

What an overreaction on my part !

After ranting about the situation and feeling like it was irreparable I began to calm down and gain some understanding. I began to remember how I felt the first time I prepared Thanksgiving for my family. I wanted everything perfect ! I created the entire menu for 40 family members including decorations, table settings and name tags. When my cousin arrived and tried to help me with the arrangements I felt resentful rather than thankful for her assistance !

Later when I received a message from my daughter via text, she thanked me for my desire to help and stated kindly that she wanted to prepare all the food as a gift to our family.

Did I ever feel ashamed of myself !

During misunderstandings I often overreact and experience feelings of despair and hopelessness. When these intensely uncomfortable feelings surface I realize now that they are not due to the current conflict but are related to painful experiences during my childhood.

As a child I was a fighter. If dad were drunk I would try to protect my mother during his rampage, even at the early age of three. My family often called me a pest. I would probably have been labeled as having ADHD if the term had been used in the 50's.

Because of the frightening experiences of sexual abuse throughout my childhood I can easily become discouraged and experience a sense of hopelessness. When I recognize what I am doing to myself I sit still and ask God what is really going on with me; the answers come in a quiet and peaceful way.

When in conflict I initially condemn myself for my failings and then feel sorry for myself. I am now learning to hold myself accountable for my part in any miscommunication and forgive myself for my less than perfect reactions.

I am on an enlightening journey and mindful of its wondrously unfolding beauty.

The Void

Feeling emptiness and sadness today . . . .

I know the SOURCE of LOVE and am seeking fullness again.

In the past I filled the emptiness with self-sabotaging behavior like shopping, compulsive cleaning, eating, or seeking an inappropriate encounter.

Now I allow myself to experience the emptiness, the void, the hole in my heart.

I don't know if it's because of losses in my life, or unfulfilled dreams; I just feel the tears caught in my throat.

I know this uncomfortable feeling will soon pass and I will again experience the sense of abundance.

Right now I am still.

I KNOW that I am loved no matter what my feelings may express.

Mending Fences

Did I ever trespass in other people's gardens !

It wasn't until after I spent what felt like a lifetime of working on my inner healing from childhood sexual abuse that I realized how much harm I had done to others.

At the onset of my discovery at the age of 38 I was horrified, disgusted, terrified and raging.

When I began to follow a 12-Step Program to help cope with the feelings of being overwhelmed and wanting to die I only thought about what evil was done to me and how I would try to make them pay for their crimes.

I spent months in bed, not sleeping, caught in the waves of memories day and night; only able to venture out for therapy. Each session seemed worse than the original abuse as I had to face the demons again. When I felt that I would harm myself my therapist suggested an inhouse facility; I agreed.

It was there that I began the program. At first I had no understanding of even the first step; it was all so foreign to me. Eventually I began to surrender my out-of-control feelings to God as I know Him; trust was a huge issue because I was ritually abused as well in a church environment.

As I moved through the program I stumbled upon the Fourth Step, making a moral inventory of myself. I began to realize that I had buried a lot of things in my past. I felt guilty and ashamed of my behavior and the harm it had caused others in my life.

Initially I resisted the thought of asking forgiveness of anyone; after all I was a victim from a very early age.
I had no sexual boundaries since they were destroyed before I could think.

But as I fearlessly began to look at my shortcomings I also began to acknowledge my part in perpetuating my uncontrolled behavior onto others. I helped destroy my first marriage as well as many close relationships.

I began to recount how many partners I had been with sexually over the years; it was humbling.

As I learned to hold myself responsible for my actions as an adult I began to heal in a beautiful way.

Now I have grown accustomed to examining myself, my motives and my actions. I still ask forgiveness, and know that I am forgiven.

I am adept at mending fences !

Spontaneity Requires Preparation

My spouse and I are talking about opening a restaurant. He is a Belgian pastry chef and an amazing creator of many delectable European dishes. I love creating ambience, entertaining at the piano and singing, and hosting events for family and friends. We are a winning combination :)

It is our passion !

Last night I had a DREAM that we opened  Des Amis.

Jacques was preparing a Flemish dish of mussels when I realized we had no plates or flatware; so off I started for home in my SUV to retrieve the items.

Along the way a few family members and friends wanted to join me to share in the adventure.

By the time I was ready to leave, my car transformed into a motorized rickshaw, and finally a motorless rickshaw as I laboriously peddled everyone uphill in the sand !

I awakened, giggling and telling my husband how happy I was to have a dream that wasn't a NIGHTMARE, and was enjoying the POSITIVE struggle of the experience.

Looking at it now I see that this is a metaphor in my life.

I LOVE spontaneity !  Yet I know that it comes with a price.

Each exciting and wonderful dream I desire requires a labor of love as I just experienced in the preparation and process of slipcovering my sofa.

I first noticed the need for a new slipcover when I saw my original baby pink fading and stained. I researched for fabric as I visualized the end result, then purchased the various items needed to assemble it. With trepidation I carefully began the process of laying out, cutting, and sewing the pieces together, having no pattern and never having done any sewing project on this scale. I had precious little time in the evening to work on this project as I am a full-time nanny for two of my grandkids. Yet I was motivated by my visual image of the cheerful outcome.

The project was far more challenging than I had imagined since I chose fine yellow ticking, a one-way toile with children swinging in the trees etched in soft red on a lovely warm yellow background, an Indian-styled red and white ruffled border, and Victorian red piping finishing off all the edges.

I completed my dream this past week after several months and am thrilled to tell you that it is even more charming here in our cozy cottage than I had ever envisioned !

What I learned is that preparation is the key to creating reality out of my spontaneity :)

I am dreaming, creating, manifesting, and moving in the direction of my heart's desires !

She Wasn't Loved

I asked my spouse to do something important for me, then found out that he postponed it without letting me know.

He said that he just hadn't had the time to tell me.

I fell apart emotionally and stated that I didn't feel respected, that my needs were a low priority to him.

The conflict escalated as we blamed each other for other situations; I began spinning out of control in despair and confusion.

I eventually apologized for overreacting and he apologized for hurting my feelings.

Today on the road to work I talked outloud to myself the entire scenario.

I discovered the ROOT of my despair was that I didn't feel loved and supported.

Supportive is a word to describe my spouse; he demonstrates his love for me and my family regularly.

The REAL issue is that as a child I wasn't protected or nurtured by my mother.

Mom was busy working to support us because my father didn't, and was very involved in the church.

I received her attention mostly as a performer either playing the piano or singing.

She knowingly turned her back when my father was abusing me.

When I confronted my father and mother in my therapist's office they both denied their parts in my abuse.

I am learning forgiveness yet I still feel discomfort, resentment and guilt when I think of my mom even though I attend to her needs as she is aging and displaying signs of dementia.

I still have this huge hole in me that needs to be filled with LOVE.

Self-love is foreign to me; it is much easier to see the needs of others rather than look inside myself to find out what I need.

I am taking small and awkward steps to love myself by focusing on things that I enjoy just for the sheer pleasure they bring to me.

I am giving myself permission to be creative.

I am completing my first custom-made slipcover and feeling proud of my creative accomplishment, acknowledging its esthetic beauty and experiencing the gratification of the endeavor.

I am choosing to embrace my creative abilities as a priority over focusing on CHORES which will always be there !

In small ways I am learning to love myself and it feels good  :)