Monday, June 09, 2014
I haven't posted a blog on here for a long time. Part of it is because my husband doesn't like it when I do. I have been really struggling for the past few months. May was an especially tough month. I ended the school year with my girls making great gains academically-so much so that my supervisor bragged to his supervisor how well my girls, and I, have done. I am 5 weeks into my last course for my doctoral program as well as working on writing my prospectus for my dissertation.
Saturday, March 22, 2014
I started reading a book that has really challenged me to think objectively about my past. I have never been abused in any way, but I have definitely been lied to. However, my parents did not intentionally lie to me. They were deceived as well. Although, unlike me, they still believe those deceptions to be true. But, now I have the task of sorting out exactly what was a deception and what was truth. I really don't know if I'm ready for this. In fact, just beginning to think about this makes me want to cut.
Growing up, it was taught that if you had one wrong thought then you were giving ground over to Satan. Then, if you did not confess your thought to your father, that Satan would begin building a fortress in that spot. Then, that fortress would begin attacking other areas in your heart, and before you know it, your whole heart belongs to Satan. Just because of one thought. Therefore, I did not allow myself to think about anything. Which was really hard. Additionally, feelings were evil. Feelings were of the flesh and sinful. Instead, we were to be of the spirit and joyful at all times. This teaching started when I was 9. Now, when I was 8, I went through almost the most traumatic event that I have ever dealt with. In fact, this may be the most traumatic because it laid the ground work for how I would react to problems.
One summer night, I went to bed after bidding my parents and 4 siblings "good night". I have 2 older sisters who are actually my half-sisters. I also have a younger sister and brother. The next morning, I woke up early, like always. I don't really remember the day very well. But, at some point during the day, I must have been looking for my sister that is right above me. She is my closest sibling. We did everything together. And, she protected me from my oldest sister. My little sister was a favorite with my older sister. I couldn't find her. I don't know what my parents told me, but she was gone. I never got to tell her good bye. I didn't see her again until I was about 16 years old. I never got the chance to talk to her. I saw the oldest sister again when she came to get her stuff, but it was really tense. It was never discussed again. In fact, the only time my dad and I argued from that point in time until I hit 19 and started challenging him was about the fact that I insisted on referring to Michelle and Sarah as my sisters. He would continuously correct me and say they were my half-sisters. To this day, I still call them my sisters. I refuse to make that distinction. During the rocky years of my college life, Dad actually had the audacity to tell me that I should be closer to my younger sister, Rachel, than my sister Sarah. To this day, I will tell Sarah things I would not dream of telling my sister Rachel. I reacted to the disappearance of my sisters by completely shutting down. I started hanging out in the barns with the animals and only coming inside when I had to. I never talked about it to anyone. I never confided in anyone. It wasn't until I was about 13 or 14 and I had sat through an Apprenticeship Session at Knoxville, that I later that evening I confessed to my parents that I was "bitter" about Michelle and Sarah leaving. I don't really remember much about that night. I just remember telling them that. I don't remember what they did or said. But, it was basically along the lines of they did everything right and I completely reacted wrong and it was my fault I was bitter when they left. Excuse me, let me rephrase that a little more accurately. My sisters did not voluntarily leave my parents' house that night. My dad forced them to pack their belongings and drove them to their mother's house (3 hours away) that night. And, now he wonders why they wanted nothing to do with him during their teen years. At the time, my sisters were 14 and 16.
The thing my parents did that the therapist classifies as abuse is when they took most of my toys away and burned them. I was about 9. They took my Cabbage Patch dolls, trolls, My Little Pony, and Barbies. Although, they kept the Barbie furniture that mom had made from plastic canvas.
During my childhood, I was always carefree, happy-go-lucky, and generally in a really good mood. Although, I would get really quiet and shut down if I got into groups larger than 3 or 4 people. Another thing, I distinctly remember in my teens I did not like people touching me. I'm not sure why. I just didn't.
I spent most of my teen years working in a restaurant. Although, at the age of 15, I started volunteering as a classroom aide to a kindergarten teacher at the local elementary school. To this day, I have a close relationship with this teacher. In fact, I'm going to her daughter's baptism next Sunday (not tomorrow).
I wouldn't classify my teen years as evil. In fact, they were full of fun and good things. I went to the training center in Indianapolis multiple times for various courses. I always had fun at those events. But, it was there that most of these teachings were passed on. For example, we were taught that the first rock music concert occurred while Moses was on the mountain talking to God and receiving the 10 Commandments.
I remember the first time I ever experienced the death of a human was when I was about 16 years old. I had experienced the death of animals before. I grew up on a farm and was in 4-H where I took lambs and rabbits and sold them to the market at the end of the fair. But, the first time I really encountered the death of a person was when my great-grandmother passed away. Now, I was pretty close to my great-grandma. When I was little, I would go and spend a week at a time with her with my grandma. Being homeschooled, mom would just pack my school along with us and my grandma would help me with my school work. My great-grandma lived with my great-uncle Dale. Uncle Dale owned a Dairy Queen that we would visit quite often. Grandma always had a stash of dilly bars that my uncle had given her. I still remember the day she died. She had been in the nursing home for about 6 weeks. I was sitting in the apartment kitchen at the restaurant. (It's called the apartment kitchen because we opened up a wall between the restaurant and the back apartment.) I was sitting at the table working on my school work. Mom was on the phone to my grandma. Grandma must have asked how I was doing. Mom told her that she thought I was doing fine because I was sitting at the table doing my school work. The truth was that I was sitting at the table doing my school work to keep from thinking about the fact that my great-grandma was gone. I still remember her funeral. All throughout the funeral, I wouldn't let myself think about what was going on.
Then, not too much longer after my great-grandma died, maybe a year or two, my aunt (my dad's sister) died from alcoholism. I don't really know what happened, but she died at home and was dead for 3 days before anyone found her. Now, we only saw this aunt at Christmas. But, I always wanted to work at the Cincinnati Conservatory in music like she did. She was an amazing pianist. She encouraged me in my music and was interested in my beginning efforts to compose music. Which, I have almost given up on composing music.
About a year or two after this, about a year after I got my driver's license, my great-uncle died. I had gone to visit him (an hour and a half away) and drove there for the first time by myself. He taught me how to play the organ that night. He said I had a natural knack for the organ. I still wish I had bought grandma's organ. But, I didn't have a place to put it and my parents wouldn't store it for me. But, one of these days, I will have an organ.
This all happened before I turned 19. Then, at the age of 19, I went to college. There, I was surrounded by people who were devoted Christians, yet their lives were full of everything I had been taught was evil. There was contemporary music in chapel. The women wore pants and low-cut tops. Guys and girls were friends with each other. I did not really have any friends who were guys, except for my brother's friends. But, they were my brother's friends, not mine. If I was caught looking at a guy for too long, I would get into trouble. When I was about 17, my mom, sister, and I went to a hair-cutting course for the weekend at the Indianapolis Training Center. I almost fainted when I had to cut a guy's hair. I had never touched a guy before, and I was expected to cut his hair. Mom cut his hair for me.
Friday, March 21, 2014
Well, I haven't written a blog in quite a while. I'm not sure where the month of March has gone. I think I have slept most of it away. It hasn't been too bad of a month. I couldn't see the therapist this month because I had to take a break because we had reached our 16th session. I wasn't sure I would make it through the month without seeing him, but I made it. This is the first time I've gone through one of these breaks and been OK. I generally take a break in the summers because I'm not as stressed out over the summer. A few sessions ago, the therapist pondered the idea of whether what I dealt with was seasonal or not. I told him I didn't think so. I usually see him from August to May or early June. I don't see him the months of June or July, and sometimes I don't start seeing him until September. So, we came to the conclusion that my job is the source of most of my stress. Although, with the diagnosis of OCD, we are heading a different direction in therapy.
We just had a mini-evaluation this past Tuesday. During the evaluation, we are going to work on the thought activity that is generating in my head as well as the ability to express emotions without me flipping out over it. I usually start to flip out and completely shut down when it comes to expressing emotions. In fact, just yesterday, the other teacher where I work asked me if the state graduation tests stressed me out. I told her it did. Then, she commented at how I'm much calmer than she is. I told her I'm not always calm, but growing up in the restaurant I learned quickly how to hide my emotions. Then, with the combination of the cult that I was raised in, I quickly got to the point I didn't feel anything. I was completely numb from the time I was like 13 until about 20. In fact, I was so numb that at 19 I started cutting myself just to know that I was alive. I reasoned that if I bled when I cut, then I must be living. Then, I went through a few years where I couldn't hide anything anymore. I still wasn't a basket case, but I wasn't my usual perky, smiley, happy-go-lucky self anymore. The same teacher at that point had actually approached me about being depressed because she had seen such a change in me.
As we are beginning this new direction in therapy, I'm really kind of anxious about it. The therapist asked me about addressing some of the false teachings I had grown up with and getting my spiritual life in order (he's a pastor's son and a Christian). But, I completely shut down at the thought of that. I know the teachings are false. But, I'm not sure I'm ready to let them go just yet.
Wednesday, March 05, 2014
I had a very frightening experience yesterday. While I was home on lunch, my phone rang. That is very unusual. Everyone that calls me knows that I work during the day. I fumbled with my phone attempting to answer it. Somehow, I sent it to voicemail. I check the voicemail on google voice, and the person left a message. Of all people, it was a student that I couldn't get away from. He was in my classroom at the alternative school. Then, he was at the residential facility when I transferred there. I transferred to the facility in October. By December, he had been moved to my classroom. I do not know how this student got my number. He is a very scary person. He fantasizes about rape and murder, at least he did while he was in my classroom. So, I told the facility and my direct supervisor about how he called me on my cell phone. My husband did call him back and told him not to call me again. When I got to work, he was on the phone in my classroom. I talked to him for about a minute. I still don't really know what he wanted. I didn't really give him a chance to talk. He is one of the few students I was somewhat scared of. I went to the police station after work to file a police report. The officer I talked to called him up and told him that if he contacted me again, then they would file harassment charges. So, for the next few days, the facility is on high alert and my husband is taking me to work in case he shows up at work.
Saturday, March 01, 2014
I don't even know where to begin. I haven't been around much for the past week. It's been a long, busy, eventful week. I was in a car accident on February 18, 2014. Then, that next weekend, we went to my in-laws, where the car was located, to determine what to do about the car. This past week, I took a personal day on Friday so we could sell the car to a neighbor. While we were at my in-laws (2 hours away), the transmission went out on our other car in the morning. We spent all day dealing with that. So, now neither car works. We will find out on Monday what is wrong with the car. We currently have my husband's grandma's car. Thank God for grandmas! Then, we might be fixing my car and we might be buying my car. Not sure which we're doing.
Then, to make this all more difficult, we discovered yesterday that my husband's childhood friend, and our mechanic, is shooting heroine. So, we have been trying to get him help for the past day and warning other friends in case he shows up at their house. So, I'm not sure what we're going to do in this situation. My husband called our friend's dad and talked to him at length this morning. The dad is trying to figure out what to do in this situation.
Get An Email Alert Each Time BEEKAHBUG Posts