...random thoughts, opinions and secrets on children... aging... cooking... crafts... nature...divorce...second chances...
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~Copyright 2017. Hootie~
Showing posts with label Therapy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Therapy. Show all posts

Friday, May 12, 2017

Emotional Manipulation...an example


Mother's Day... a day when we honor our mom.

More than likely, mom is the woman who carried us in her womb for nine months.  She protected, nourished and loved us, before we even entered the world.  When a man and a woman have a child, it is possibly the most intimate experience they can share. Not long ago, men weren't allowed into the delivery room, but now they are not only welcomed, but are active participants, being asked to cut the cord that binds their child to his or her mother.  The woman may carried their child, but the man is the witness.  He witnesses the growth of his child as he or she goes from being a home pregnancy test result, to a small bump that grows into the size of a basketball.  He witnesses black and white images on an ultra sound machine.  He is witness to that incredible event of the birth of his child.  He witnesses as the child travels from the safety of the uterus, through the pelvic bones, and out into the world where the first breathe is taken.  A man witnesses the transformation of the amazing body of a woman.  There is no doubt, a woman's body is truly amazing.

I have given birth to two children.  To me they are blessings beyond compare.  I no longer need to protect them as I once did.  The nourishment I offer is mostly emotional, with a side helping of real calories. I love them more than they can every possibly know.  They are two amazing human beings...a product of the childhood they were given.  


Mother's Day 2013


In February of that year, he had started pushing me away.  What was wrong with me?  I didn't seem to be doing anything right. I sought therapy to find answers on what I needed to do to help change myself for him, for us.  We were still sleeping in the same bed on Mother's Day.  When I awoke that morning, I turned to him and confessed that I missed "us", I missed being intimate.  Had I expected the lashing that followed, I would have remained silent, I would have kept my thoughts to myself.  

I didn't expect what followed.

-----------------------------
me-What are you thinking?

            him - What are you thinking? 

me - I realize we are probably just going through something, but I miss our intimacy. 

           him - When did you see your therapist last? 

me-Two weeks ago, and I'll see her this week. 

           him - Why aren't you seeing her weekly?  Are you taking your meds?  
            Have you been taking your Xanax? 

me-The Xanax is only for panic attacks and I haven't needed those for some time now.

           him - What do you talk about in your sessions?

me-Well, I did tell her I miss our sex and she told me I need to back off and not push things. 

           him - What else do you talk about?  
            I mean, I know your sessions are private and not my business.  

me - Well, I worry about how much you ride, and you are the one who told me about Over Training Syndrome.  I wasn't even sure that was a real thing, so I googled it and you seem to fit all the symptoms. 

           him - That's part of being a high level, competitive athlete.

me - I know, I don't understand since I'm not an athlete.  

            him - That's absolutely right, you aren't.   

me - I just don't know any other high level athletes to compare my concerns about you to. I also am concerned because you seem more jovial with others than you are with me.  I'm just trying to figure out what I need to do to help this out.  I realize I'm a pleaser and I shouldn't worry.  I just feel like you give 150% of yourself to your cycling, and 150% of yourself to your job and there is nothing left for you to give me.  I feel like there isn't a balance.  I feel like all I get is a peck on the lips.

            him - "That's all I have for you." 
             You suffer from low self-esteem and you need to work on that.  It isn't my place to tell you daily that I love you, or that I find you attractive or that I think what you are doing is good. 

me - Well, do you feel that way about me though?

           him - Not all the time.  
           You are 49 years old.  When are you going to start taking care of yourself? You have a basket of pills under the bed and you are comfortable taking those to manage things rather than to exercise, and walking the dog doesn't count as exercise.  You need to get your heart rate elevated. 

me - I have so much to do around here.  I don't have time to exercise too.  

            him - What do you have to do?  

me - I have to shop, and cook, and clean, and walk the dog, and work. 

             him - Your priorities are off.  You need to find time to work out.  How much are you on the computer during the day?  How much are you on there morning, noon and night?  I challenge you to write down how much you are on either the computer or your iPad. 

me - You know, my mind just races.  I'm worried maybe you are having an affair. 

           him -  Is your goal to keep gaining weight?

me - I've actually lost 10 pounds since December. 

            him - Well, I can't tell. 

me - I don't care if you can't tell.  You can ask my doctor, they have official records. 

            him - "I'm not attracted to someone whose gut sticks out more than their tits.  
             Are you surprised to hear me say this?"

me - no (I was in absolute shock.)

            him - "I mean, come on (and he touched his own chest) have you looked at me?"  
                (exhale and pause) Do you want me to hold you? 
me - no

I took three xanax that day and emailed my therapist.  
Above is from my email.  Every word is true.  
This is what emotional manipulation from a Narcissistic looks like from the inside.  

I walked Winston as my escape after that conversation.  When I returned he asked if I wanted to go to Goose Pond and see what it was like.  He had asked me this once before.  That previous day we were to go after he went riding his bike.  When the time came for us to go, he was too exhausted.  Today I told him no thanks.  He asked if I didn't want to go because the birds were mostly gone.  I told him I really didn't want to spend any time with him.  

At my next therapy session my therapist told me I could believe what he tells me about myself, or I could go out into the real world and see what the rest of the world has to say.  She suggested I take a trip by myself.  You might recall that I went to the Grand Canyon on my walkabout.  Mother's Day 2013 was the catalyst.  

In September of 2013 he moved out of our bedroom.  In April of 2014 he moved out of the house.  On Mother's Day of 2014 he showed up at the house.  He was mad that I had changed the locks.  I told him he was the last person I wanted to see on Mother's Day.  He asked why.  I said don't you remember what you said to me last year?  His response, "I remember.  You're still in shock aren't you?" 
----------------------------

I needed to write this and share it publicly so I can be released.  I have held this in my heart every day.  When I look into the mirror now, I see someone who was hidden and is emerging.  I need the poison he fed into my soul to be out, and completely gone.  

I claim Mother's Day as mine.  

I do not suffer from low self-esteem.  
I am a warrior.  
I am roaring.

                  ~Lisa Kroll
                      Mother, Survivor, Love Warrior

Friday, June 28, 2013

My Walkabout.....


--------- from Dictionary.com---------

walk·a·bout

noun
1.
Chiefly British .
a.
a walking tour.
b.
an informal public stroll taken by members of the royalfamily or by a political figure for the purpose of greetingand being seen by the public.
2.
Australian.
a.
a brief, informal leave from work, taken by an Aborigine towander the bush, visit relatives, or return to native life.
b.
absence from work.

va·ca·tion

noun
1.
a period of suspension of work, study, or other activity, usuallyused for rest, recreation, or travel; recess or holiday:Schoolchildren are on vacation now.
2.
a part of the year, regularly set aside, when normal activitiesof law courts, legislatures, etc., are suspended.
3.
freedom or release from duty, business, or activity.
4.
an act or instance of vacating.



In my search to remember Who I Am, I am leaving my home today to head on an adventure.  Since I am going alone, by myself, not meeting up with friends or family, I am having a hard time calling this a vacation.  Although clearly, after reviewing the definitions of vacation and walkabout on dictionary.com, it appears I am going more on a vacation.  My heart is struggling with the "alone" part...hence my desire to call this a walkabout. 

I give credit to two ladies for inspiring me to head out on my own for a short time of discovery.  First author Joan Anderson, who wrote A Year By The Sea.  I was definitely reminded as I read her book that I have spent the last 27 years of my life putting everyone else dear to me first...which mostly includes my husband and children.  The second lady I will credit is my mentor, whom I politely request to leave unnamed.   She is helping me through this transitional time in my life and her guidance and support mean the world to me.  

I'm not yet exactly sure what I expect to discover about myself over these next ten days, but I will chart my adventure here in my blog.  

Your comments, kind reader, are always welcome.  

Tuesday, June 25, 2013

Band-aids

Loss reminds me of Band-Aids, on our hearts.

When my dad suffered a major heart attack and died in his sleep, it was as if a band-aid had been ripped off my heart...pulled quickly.  Lots of sudden pain, but in the grand scheme of life, the main pain, over relatively fast.

When my mom spent seven months declining and dying of GBM (Glioblastoma Multiforme) it was sort of like that band-aid was slowly being peeled away.  The hurt went on for a long time.  But I knew it was coming and I could deal with the final pull.

Right now I have one of those dangling band-aids on my heart.  It is sort of being ripped off, but then is being put back on.  Flapping around now and then and needing attention.  Ineffective in healing, but not ready to be tossed away totally.  I can't decide where this band-aid should go: in the trash, or on the wound.

Time always seems to know exactly what is best though.  Guess I'll just wait and see what happens.

~image from: http://kannanblogchap6.blogspot.com

Wednesday, June 12, 2013

Changes...

...life is filled with change.  

Are you ready to hear what is going on with me?  
Stay tuned!  

~Hootie

Saturday, March 03, 2007

therapy

Yesterday I met with a therapist.

I told her all about last year. In the end, her jaw was on the floor. She said that just by my mom dying that was more than enough to go through.

Her advice is that I am fine. I am normal. I just need to give myself time and keep talking about my feelings.

All things I all ready knew. I just needed that reminder that I am okay.

Last night I dreamt about my grandma. She gave me a really big book. On one side of the book there was a bible. On the other side there was a bunch of family history. It was a strange dream. I haven't spoken to my grandma in a week. I do need to hear her voice. I know she has been really sad with the loss of my mom. Truthfully, I will be surprised if she can make it through the next year. I was very surprised that she made it through my mom's birthday.

Today would have been my mom and dad's 45 wedding anniversary. It's the first anniversary they have been together in 21 years. Wow. I bet there is a big celebration going on in heaven today.

Wednesday, March 08, 2006

release...

I have been writing in my paper journal. It feels so good to be able to see all that text. It's great to be able to hold it in my hands. It's so tangable.

A blog is fine, if you want others to see what you are writing. A journal is good for people to sneak into. With a blog I don't feel like I am keeping anything private. I want my family to know what my thoughts are, but a part of me would feel better catching them in my journal. How can I tell if they are checking this out? And although I know they more than likely aren't going to see my journal, I feel empowered writing in it!

I have surprised myself by how much I have written. I still have so much more to write. :)