Even though it is difficult enough to write about my sexual abuse and anger with the men in my life. It is a whole other level when it comes to my mother. My mother was emotionally and physically abusive until I moved out of the house when I was 21. However, the emotional abuse continued. Also, admitting her complicity in my the other abuses I experienced is even harder. If you add to that my rage toward everyone, but especially my mother, you have my place of stuckness.
(Need to say that I'm having difficulty writing this as I get buzzy in my head or go away). I am not yet ready to reveal my writings about my mother, but I'm getting there. Yesterday, I wrote about being stuck about talking about my memories. Well, it is more than 10 times harder to talk about my mother. I've worked my entire life to not live in that reality.
However, I have internalized my mother's projection of badness and of not wanting me very well. To the point that I want to die, feel like I deserve to die or not exist, that I am bad and want to absolutely destroy my inner infant and little girl. I really want to kill them off which is what I took in from my mother not wanting me and telling me that I was bad or evil, etc...
This is one of the other reasons that my depression has increased so much during these past few weeks. Yesterday, my therapist and I discussed that I start to have difficulty at the beginning of summer and my first hospitalization was in August and my second was in July. August being my birth month, he is speculating on what my mother must have felt like before I was born or when I was 10 months old. What I do know is that she didn't want me and that she actively blamed me for her problems.
I can't write anymore about what my mother did right now...it is just too difficult which is where I am between the mountain and a boulder. Either, way my depression increases and currently it is getting pretty bad. I'm terrified, rageful, sad, empty, achy and tearful. I don't want to face the truth, but I don't want to remain stuck. I just don't want to deal with the reality that my mother is really sick and I wouldn't be where I am if it weren't for her. I didn't just write that...I'm going to pretend it is not there like I have all my life, then it isn't real and neither am I.
Well, the second post is of my fingerpaintings completed in 2005. Funny, but the same feeling are always there...maybe, because I can only handle so much at a time. No, actually now I am at a deeper level...oh, goody, progress. (note sarcastic tone). I just want to go curl up and die now...just disappear.