AAARRRGGGGGHHHHHH!!!!!! I am so upset with myself. I had been doing so well. Fairly well. Ok, better anyway, with the whole no contact/safety plan/limited communication agreement with Will. Then all the little niggling triggers started happening. I kept telling myself that they didn’t matter. It didn’t matter that EMDR processing brought up the day my mom confessed that she didn’t really love me like she loved my sister. I could handle that. D-day of course was in that mix somewhere but I have been processing that for months. So what if I had to have a procedure done because HSV also spreads to the rectum in the form of constantly bleeding painful hemorrhoids? I’m tough and they gave me good drugs. Yeah, so, Will sent me roses…ROSES…for my birthday. I already knew he could be a cruel,insensitive jerk. So why, then? Why did I break the communication boundary on Friday and try to call Will, and text him, outside of our set time? To answer that, I did a chain analysis and it all came back to June 5th.
The first week of June, a couple weeks after d-day and I was still in shock. I was walking around in a CPTSD fog only I didn’t know that’s what it was. I had a doctors appointment with my primary care physician. A kindly P.A. He has been our family doctor for about 15 years. It was horrible, humiliating, and embarrassing telling him of my need for a full STD screening and why. I started to cry and couldn’t stop. He was sympathetic and concerned. He asked me if I could stay in the clinic so that he could have the psychologist on duty visit with me. I agreed. I went out into the very crowded waiting room. The night before, Will had leaked another “little” disclosure. Only one additional sex partner. At this point what was one more after the 30 or so right? This one was difficult. My sister. I truly think I was in some sort of shock. I was definitely sleep deprived. I was absolutely not a fully mentally functioning human being. As I sat in the waiting room, trying to calm myself, my mom called me. At this time, she did not know anything about anything. She started to prattle on and on about our upcoming family reunion in July. I tried several times to interrupt her inane chattering to let her know gently, that we would not be coming. Finally, I practically yelled in the phone, “We aren’t coming in July, Mom!” She immediately got defensive, telling me everyone would be there, it was all planned, blah, blah, guilt, guilt….I blurted it all out. Will’s betrayal over so many decades, the pain I was in, how I was so devastated. She was convinced that the best thing for me was to come home and be with her …and my sister! I started to really sob and told her about Will and my sister. She blustered, she hemmed and hawed, she finally ran out of words. All of the sudden she had nothing in the way of comfort or support or sympathetic suggestions. Now, just for the record, I am an adopted child, my older sister was as well. THIS sister..this betraying sister, is my mom’s only natural child. Growing up, I was always assured that I was every bit as loved as this natural child. I always wanted to believe it…so I did. But this reaction felt…alienating, lonely…it smelled like abandonment. I needed to get off the phone. We said goodbye and I sat there trying to compose myself. 15 minutes later, my phone began to vibrate…incessantly. It was my sister. She was attacking me. She was profane, and out of control, and abusive. After 2 bad marriages, she felt like her new relationship was being threatened. She was denying everything and accusing me and Will of trying to destroy her life. (because that’s reasonable?!?!) I started to crumble, I began to shake and sob uncontrollably. I couldn’t remember how to block a number. I couldn’t even remember how to turn my phone off. I called Will. He was being bombarded as well. He was finally able to block her number on our joint account. Then my mom called me again. She had called my sister. She was calling me back to ask why I would tell such an awful story. I told her it was not a story, that Will would be taking a lie detector test, that it was part of disclosure etc. She said she didn’t want anything to do with this “disgusting business” and would not discuss it. She did not believe anything ever happened between my sister and Will. I then asked her the one question I had had in my heart my whole life. I asked, “Why do you believe her and not me?” She said, ” Because she is my daughter.” I then said that I thought I was her daughter too. She snapped at me and said, “You KNOW what I mean!” Yeah, I did. I knew that she meant that my sister was her real daughter and there never was any equality in her love for us. I think I always knew. It broke me. A nurse noticed me, so much in distress, and took me back to a treatment room. I didn’t make it all the way. Somewhere along the way, I collapsed. My legs gave out. All my strength left and I literally was unable to go on. Well, I don’t remember a lot about the next couple of hours but I was given Xanax, a psychologist talked to me and when I was let go, my daughter was there to make sure I got home OK. After arriving home, Will showed up. My daughter hesitantly came into my room to tell me he was there…she did not know how I would react. I immediately got up, practically ran to the front porch and collapsed into his arms. He held me as I cried and cried. He cried and held me in his lap on the front porch swing. My brain kept telling me that this was so sick, so wrong! This was the man that had betrayed me, hurt me, broken my heart! But my heart was comforted and my soul began to calm. His arms around me had always been my safe place…
So, last week, after the EMDR, after the roses, after the pain in my ass (literally!), it was the Friday before my 55th birthday. I got a card from my mother in the mail. I sent her a letter 6 months ago asking her to respect my pain and privacy and to please leave me alone. I thanked her for raising me and basically said goodbye. So, inside this birthday card, she wrote, “I hope you have grown up a little and are ready to talk to me. I am here whenever you are done with your tantrum” At that moment, all the little triggers added up. All I could think of was Will’s arms…my safe place. I called him…repeatedly. I texted him..repeatedly. Every time he didn’t respond, I got more and more anxious. I felt myself escalate and I couldn’t stop it. I was heading for a full blown PTSD episode. Now, for the record, I don’t drink. I say that so that this next part has the proper emphasis. I drove to the liquor store, I bought booze. I came home, I drew a hot bath and I had talked myself into believing that a nice hot bubble bath and a drink would calm me down! BIG BUCKET OF NOPE, I had one drink, then another, then another….I started obsessing even more over Will..desperately needing that hug. I got out, got dressed, called a cab and went to Will’s. I thought he would open the door, see me and take me in his arms…just like he did on June 5th. No. Not even close. He was sticking to the damn safety plan. He just stood there looking at me with this closed face. I was drunk, I was in the middle of an episode…I verbally unleashed on him. He just sat there looking at me. At some point I threw my drink at him (yes, I had brought it with me in a paper cup) I was angry. I called a cab and when it got there, I didn’t want to leave. Will shoved me out his door and down the step. I hit the ground. I couldn’t stop crying. I cried all the way home. I cried myself to sleep. I cried most of the day on Saturday..my birthday. I have never had a worse birthday. I don’t know if I’ve ever had a worse meltdown. My therapist is unsure she wants to continue working with me. I wonder if I am beyond hope. I wonder if people will ever stop abandoning me. I wonder if anyone will ever love me. So far being 55 and alone sucks.
I still want a hug.