I repurposed this blog some time ago under the assumption that trauma was the central, disabling thread holding my life “together” (or rather: Having made it come apart). I also did so with an at least semi-inherent intention to investigate ways and places I should place my focus on when it comes to recovery. (the latter – I’m aware – sounding like a rather self-serving, selfish motivation). Boy, was I wrong!
A couple of days ago, I meet with a new friend. She is a singer and musician, like myself, has dabbled in writing and recording her own music and I ran into her before an appointment with a church-funded therapist (free offers like that are the only ones available to me at this point). The first time I met her, she hung out at a park in the city with her family, playing the guitar and singing, while tending to her children. I liked her singing, so I sat down on a bench near them to listen and eventually found the guts to make contact. We have gotten together in a loose, semi-regular manner eversince.
Last time I saw her, we took a walk along the same area I had met her while having a conversation during the course of which she revealed the abusive nature of her relationship with the father of one of her children. “Gaslighting” and “Narcissist” are the predominant terms that governed larger parts of that talk. I was totally unprepared to the fact that this would trigger me in ways I am now having major trouble to get a grip on. When I got home, I crosschecked the term “gaslighting” as English isn’t my native tongue and – OCD that I have become – as I needed to make sure that I got the meaning right (and I guess vanity saw to it I never crosschecked with her during the conversation). While making sure I had gotten it right, I was brutally reminded and made aware of the fact that I haven’t been true to myself in recent years following the complete annihilation of my previous life as a middle class citizen, holding jobs like project lead in the IT industry – both on payroll and in a self-employed manner – and arriving at 100% disability in 2008. After learning of trauma, I had been under the assumption that trauma was the original cause of my distress. Slam that notion over the head with a Louisville slagger! Fucking emotional, verbal and physical abuse coming from a narcissist fucktard as a guardian is what left me insecure, “shy”, zero percent self-assured, even fucked with my own judgement as to what felt right and what didn’t!!!! Oh my fucking God!!!
I feel like going postal now, to be honest. Not only that my cries for help in the traditional medical system were met with getting rejected and other options not being availabe to me any more due to acute impoverishment, no. (And I won’t even begin to mention the bullying perpetrated by the medical and social welfare system in place….). But to find one time after a fucking other that people dealing with whatever kind of trouble are being shunned and singled out from the societal context at large, not to mention stigmatized – how is one tiny individual supposed to carry all that neglect, adversity, animosity and open hatred on their small shoulders? You tell me!
I might be on the news, soon. Fuck. I totally understand what makes people want to join those other fucktards down there in Iraq…
P.S. This text I found upon coming home, didn’t help to nip being triggered in the bud. Hence: Strong trigger warning!