Day 153 A Day Interrupted

I came to a realization last night in therapy.  It was regarding my experience last week in group, my bipolar group.  A group that is grounded in safety, love and unconditional support for each other.  We have a template to follow if we want and it’s voluntary who starts the meeting.  I volunteered for once to go first.  I had a bleeding heart so to speak and really wanted to get it off my chest. As I started to talk, Joe, the founder of this great group walked in and stood behind me.  Now I can’t remember what I said but I remember I was only 2 sentences into it when he put his hands on my shoulder and made a seemingly innocuous crack about what I said.  It was supposed to be funny and maybe if it was outside of group it would have not mattered so much.  But it wasn’t, it was in group and I did feel the flash of irritation heat up.  I pushed on regardless and finished pouring my heart out to group.  That’s not my style typically because as one of the group elders I try to be optimistic so someone, anyone can hear a message of hope.  Now I’m no saint but I try to push my crappy thoughts aside and speak to the group that you can get better no matter how you feel at the moment.  It does get better.  Not tonight though, I was in a bit of pain and I wanted to vent, pour, bleed and maybe hear some words directed towards me of support.  It was my night to feel down.  It happens.

After I finished my pitch, Joe, spoke again, this time addressing the group.  He asked if there were any volunteers to open a third room which happens time to time when we have a lot of people show up.  6 or 7 people jumped up, some that I really care about and was hoping for some feedback among them.  They just grabbed their chairs and ran out of the room and that was that.  It was like I didn’t say anything at all.  I muttered something caustic and Dave came over with a smile and said I love you Chris.  It was in a humorous vein however and I just felt small.  I didn’t like it and I started simmering.  It wasn’t long before I got up and left with a mental fuck you trailing after me.

By time I got home I decided I was done with the group for the foreseeable future, that I needed a break. But I felt nagged by myself as I wondered what my true motive was.  Was I upset because he hurt (Joe) my feelings and I was running away?  Was it a “How Dare You” situation and my pride was deflated?  Was it I’m just tired of doing something every day to promote life examination and just waiting for an excuse to beg off one night?  The thoughts that were coming in were singed with resentment so I wasn’t thinking clearly but the thought to stay away was still the strongest emotion I was experiencing.  Of course the little boy that always does what mommy wants wanted to be absolutely sure that I was doing the right thing.  “Hey snotty, back off, sometimes doing the wrong thing is okay. I’m human and it happens.”

It was an afterthought when I mentioned it to my therapist and it became a clear choice of topic.  Why did you feel that way?  What was so powerful to get that attached?  I almost felt like leaving therapy because I wanted her off of my back.  Something was going on.  And then I said it, I said it made me feel like a kid as when my mom would humiliate me in front of my siblings, company or friends at her whim.  Ah ha!  A childhood event, a childhood wound opening up again with no notice.  I felt everything fall into place when I said that.  I didn’t even think it when I said it, it just came out.  As it tumbled out into the ether between us I got it.  I still have wounded little boys inside the internal bus that haven’t recovered fully from that adolescent emotional beating.  Wow.  It was spectacularly powerful to see and feel that awareness.  When the event went down I felt a visceral twisting in my gut and burned with anger and pain with no hesitation.  No hesitation at all.  That’s how strong the bond to my childhood still is.  It is evidence of more work that I have to address.  My examined life found another chapter to the mystery.

Prior to the discovery my therapist asked if I was going to contact Joe and tell him how I felt.  I had no plan to and felt that it was too early as I still felt reactive.  I didn’t want to say anything out of anger and have to apologize for it later.  Joe is a great guy and I love him for the good man that he is.  Now it seems as if I should contact him and thank him for pulling the trigger on that memory so I know what I need to do.

 

I do remember the burn, the conflagration of my mom’s caustic, “humorous”, comments she would vocalize to dismantle me mentally.  There are all kinds of abuse out there and I can tell you that each is horrible on its own.  I haven’t suffered with many of the heinous forms but I can tell you that the constant embarrassment and cutting comments that my mom would hurl at me is the cruelest type of abuse.  I never got to develop character that didn’t always wonder how valuable a person I really was.  I never had true respect for myself other than being a joke in a life hardly worth giving a shit about.   My childhood was shit and damaging and all I did was load a bus full of mentally damaged inner children to constantly accompany me through all the future horrors of my ensuing life.  But the bus stops here.  I won’t and can’t accept that form of sensitive joking at my expense from anyone.  I understand that I don’t have to blow my top but I can turn my head and walk away.   And if I choose to no longer attend the meeting that is a decision I will respect because it’s coming from a place that I don’t understand that well.  But it’s a beacon that’s demanding my attention and I will honor it for now until I get a chance to explore this further.   Sometimes I feel as if it never stops. 

1.       I’m grateful for the mental landscape of my inner universe.

2.       I’m grateful that I take the time to further know myself and not walk away from these discoveries.

3.       I’m grateful for my therapist.