Attempting the Impossible

A journey in therapy: its ups and downs

19 August 2008

Doors and locks

Written by Depression Blogger ( Contact the author of this post )
Published on August 19th, 2008 @ 01:55:49 pm, using 276 words, 3041 views
Categories: General

It is natural and obvious that I fear evenings the most. As I believe I have written elsewhere on this blog, this was the time my abuser’s presence was most noticeable. I remember the days of trying to jam my bedroom door closed with what ever I could find; or the months when the bathroom door lock was absent. The former attempt to stop my abuser’s access was always overcome by them dismantling my bedroom door handle no matter the time of day or night. The bathroom lock was often smashed off as my abuser would crash through that particular door to abuse one of their other victims.

Such was life back then. If only it could stay in the past and not still haunt and affect me so extensively. We did all we could to try and please our abuser, but nothing was ever good enough – there would always be something wrong, and trouble would always ensue.

My abuser had no pride in their offspring. In fact, I don’t think they had any pride or feelings of worth for any of their immediate family. To them, for whatever reason, we were nothing more than beings to terrorise.

My therapist asked this week if I still wanted my abuser to show me some form of worth. Consciously I know this will never happen, and that I should not even care. Emotionally I feel rather ambiguous about this question. I suppose what I am looking for is some sort of acceptance and appreciation. It would, perhaps, help me move forward. This avenue of thought is futile of course, but one cannot help but dream.

12 August 2008

Nothing new (I am attempting the impossible)

Written by Depression Blogger ( Contact the author of this post )
Published on August 12th, 2008 @ 10:40:15 am, using 310 words, 3056 views
Categories: General

This week was out-and-out talking.

I mainly used this session to vent the frustrations I feel at the current inertia that I let govern my life. I feel incredibly stuck in this box-like world that I have involuntarily created for myself. The weeks go by, as do the months, and so little – if anything – actually changes.

The only constructive elements of this week’s session were as follows:

- We identified three separate, yet contradictory thought patterns:

1. I have some compassion for myself and the situation I find myself in. I have enough insight to realise that the results of the abuse that occurred in former years is understandable. I am not necessarily weak. There is a case to be argued that almost anyone that lived through similar experiences would find themselves in a like position. This theory was in fact recently confirmed by my learning that someone else who suffered some of the abuse of which I speak is also struggling with certain aspects of their life.

2. I feel incredible anger at my situation and at myself. I am highly irritated by the fact that at this age that I cannot just rise above it and overcome the difficulties I continually undergo. The tempest in my mind.

3. Finally, there is a side of me that continues the abuse. The constant put downs and emotional abuse are now internally replicated. I also think some of my energies are directed at self physical abuse.

- My abuser’s voice, and now latterly of my own, continues to hold me back. I know I can achieve a lot of what I would like to set my mind to (I am a perfectly capable person), but due to the resultant illness caused by my abuser I feel I am unable to successfully achieve the simplest of tasks.

And so the weeks continue to roll by…

05 August 2008

The complete circle

Written by Depression Blogger ( Contact the author of this post )
Published on August 5th, 2008 @ 02:22:55 pm, using 152 words, 11939 views
Categories: General

This week saw a return to the hypnotherapy type approach. I will skip any particular introduction or background and – for my own purposes – record what little progress was made.

I am back outside the gates of the garden on yet another sunny day. The child, my younger self, is in the confines of the garden playing and enjoying the sunshine – as is the general state in which I find things in this strange world.

I am so pathetic. This week I could not even approach the child for fear of saying or doing the wrong thing. This is the hub of everything. Fear! Fear! Fear! Fear of saying or doing the wrong thing. For, inside the house that the child lives dwells a monster. My abuser, the child’s abuser, will do everything they can to destroy us if we make the smallest mistake.

I have no hope of anything ever changing.

Attempting the Impossible

Personal recordings, musings and thoughts about therapy for clinical depression and anxiety.


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