One of the deepest characters in the series was Helga G. (Geraldine) Pataki. Her father owns his own business, "Bob's Beeper Emporium," and is rude, egotistical, prideful, and verbally abusive. Her mild-mannered mother, Miriam, is a closet alcoholic, drinking her "smoothies" whenever Bob gets too overbearing, even though (as showcased in one episode) she is actually quite intelligent and competent.
Both compare their second daughter, Helga, to their perfect older daughter, Olga. Olga, in college (while Helga is 10 years old), has done and seen everything. She gets straight A's, is brilliant on the piano, and has numerous beaus. She's also a do-gooder and loves to serve those who are disadvantaged. (She is also the only one in Helga's family that notices and appreciates her. But it's a bitter pill to swallow, given her saccharine nature and how Helga is forced to stand in her shadow.)
Suffice to say, Helga has a lot going against her. Throw in her stalkerish obsessive love with the one (other) person to show her unconditional affection, Arnold, even after persistent bullying and you get a real headcase.
It's not really a surprise that Helga ends up on The Couch.
Here's a tiny clip of their interactions.
Did I ever expect to end up "On The Couch" in my later years? No, I did not.
Although, admittedly, I don't really sit/lay on a couch. It's just an armchair, and we face one another direction. Plus she has a bowl of snacks between us on a side table.
In any case, I've been seeing a therapist since about...May-ish? Maybe June-ish. I'm not sure.
But some of the things being discussed have been:
- My father's abuse.
- The fact that it really WAS abuse (I am not just a secondary victim. There's too much minimizing there...).
- How I have a right to be angry.
- But how I can also let go of the anger.
- Negative coping mechanisms and behaviors.
- How in an effort to cut off the negative emotions/memories I have essentially cut off all my emotions. So when they do arise...they pretty much blow up in my face. :|
- Healthy Boundaries
There's been a boatload of learning about correct boundaries--which seems like it's a simple thing, but really...it's not. :| Especially when I start realizing that because of the fact that I trust no one outside of my very immediate circle, my boundaries are too exclusive. While with my family my boundaries are too loose--I have a hard time saying no and have a tendency to be the mediator and to fix everyone's problems. :| And what about the friends that I let walk all over me?
It's a bit of a problem. So boundaries are important. Things like saying, "no, you can't text me after ten p.m. I have to get up for work at five a.m." And, "you've said that a lot over the years, and in the past I've just let it go. Did you know that when you say that it actually hurts my feelings? Could you please stop?" Stuff like that.
There are also problems with anxiety.
Which certainly explains the sudden breakdowns from my mission, how riding the bus outside of my usual route utterly paralyzed me pre-mission, plus the moments when I snap at people in anger...as a result of rising anxiety that I can't express or explain until it's abruptly overflowing and I can't controlitandaaaaaaaaaaah!
Now I'm learning how to voice that I'm feeling anxiety, and that I need a moment. I am also realizing that a lot of anxiety comes from a lack of control in my environment. Including being put into a position where I have the inability to say no. This parallels my childhood trauma, and how I was unable to say no towards a trusted adult.
I am trying to learn to adapt to a changing environment, and, when I am unable to do so, distancing myself until I can "reset" my emotional well-being.
Also (bringing it back to boundaries) saying 'no' when too much is requested of me or someone tries to badger me into doing something I don't want to do.
My childhood trauma has even leaked it's way into my relationships, but specifically romantic ones, which certainly explains the irrational fear I felt towards all men as a teenager...
...the way I avoided the guys I liked...
...the panicking I start doing when a guy becomes too serious...
So there you go, a true explanation for all the chaos I wreaked in the lives of what few men I have dated!
Yep, it all makes sense now.
In any case, working on all of these things at once (or in waves) has led me to feeling like I am scattered. That I am all over the place, and so are my responses.
Before my breakdown around my 30th birthday, in March, I thought that I was pretty put together. And now I feel like I am not put together at all these days. It's a really difficult feeling. And, in response to that chaotic feeling, this last weekend as I was working on a Family History pamphlet (titled the "My Family" booklet) when I got to the "about me" page I froze.
I could easily fill in the section about my interests and hobbies, but in the "what would you like others to know about you" section I drew a blank. I have always based my worth on what I can do--the things I can create and the good that I do for others.
But I couldn't figure out who I...AM.
Which is a rather strange dilemma. It got bad enough, that I went through and finished every other aspect of the booklet except for that section, saving it for last. Then I finally wrote in that spot, "I'm not entirely sure who I am. I am still trying to figure that out..." something along those lines, then I talked about the things I love. Kids. Family. Service. Friendship. Etc.
In my therapy readings they actually talk about how this sense of self--or lack thereof--is actually very common among abuse and/or trauma victims. They lose an understanding of who they really are in the effort to become a chameleon, catering themselves to those around them. For example, if a child knows that their parent is more likely to hit them if they whine, then they learn not to whine, and to be very...very...quiet. This also goes for things like having bad grades--they learn to be very good at school, whether they like it or not.
In my situation I used books as both a defense and a distraction. If I was reading I had an excuse to stay away from my father--"no, I don't want to watch that movie with the family. I am reading a good book right now,"--and an escape from the world I lived in. The reality in books became more real to me than my own reality. I almost felt like a player in my own story, able to step back and watch things going on without participating, myself.
I was in survival mode. And then, when Dad went into prison, all the energy that would have gone into developing instead went towards (again) surviving in an "adult" role, acting as my mother's support and being the child "in charge" as my sister broke down, my brother broke out in anger, and my two other siblings felt loss and confusion.
Surviving puts you in a position where the energy that would be normally spent on Developing appropriately instead gets diverted.
(Here are some quick videos that discuss if we saw physical illness the way that we see mental illness.)
(This second video, by Buzzfeed, has two swearwords in it, but they are both said under their breath, so if you turn off the subtitles I guarantee that you won't notice...because I also missed it at first but did a double-take when reading the subtitles. O__o )
Anyway! Back on target.
When all your being is focused on surviving, only a minute amount of developing occurs. Which effectively puts all development in that age range on the back burner. Then, as an adult, you will spend the rest of your life trying to achieve the finalization of those stages of development.
The result is that all those teenager years that should have been spent learning about myself, my likes and dislikes, experimenting with hair color and hanging out with friends without the anxiety of responsibility, plus learning how to healthily interact with the opposite gender...never happened.
So any time in our therapy sessions--both individual and group--I have to remind myself that it wasn't my inner child that is having all the problems. It's my inner pre-adolescent, adolescent, and teenager.
The result is that I'm starting to deal with it...now. Which is very confusing. :| Especially among the guy friends who are like, "you've always been like ________, and now you are acting all weird. What's up?" And, much like a teenager, things that normally (when they bugged me) I would sweep aside in order to keep the peace are suddenly becoming Really Important Boundary Issues.
Basically I'm a big ball of confusion and anxiety. It's very...concerning.
Regarding this uncertainty, this feeling of being scattered and chaotic, I was praying one day to Heavenly Father to make sense of it all. As I did so I saw a mental image of a puzzle.
This puzzle, I realized, represented me.
The outside borders were put together with care from the very beginning of my life, all in order and well done regardless of how terrible I am at making puzzles.
But somewhere along the line my abuse happened, there was shock, there were instances when I had to step in and be the second adult when Mom had no one else.
And there was a lot of growing up fast that occurred.
In that struggle to "pull myself together" I smashed the pieces into place, sometimes bending the edges, other times breaking them.
But what mattered was that the puzzle was whole and solid...
Right? Until you take a step back. Then you realize that there is no image in the picture! It might be solidly STUCK together, but that doesn't mean that it actually creates any sort of artwork. Okay, maybe something picasso-esque, but that's about it.
In order to get to that image you have to unstick all the pieces, one by one. Sometimes yanking things apart--sometimes accidentally breaking them! You set the puzzle pieces aside...then begin over!
Eventually a beautifully picture will come into being! Absolutely lovely! :D But you can't get to that point until you rearrange the pieces.
This "jumbling" of pieces is what's going on with my therapy right now. In order to be fixed I have to become a complete and total mess before I can become beautiful.
This may take months. It may take years. but it doesn't matter. I need to give myself all the time that my soul needs to understand who I am and what my purpose is in this life. Eventually everything will fall into place, some pieces bent and broken. But overall it will be okay, because only then will the real me shine through.
