The Only Difference Between Poison and the Cure............

I've hit a milestone on Friday when I went to the Westside. Fridays have this tainted feeling to them since I started family therapy a year ago and now continue my own since January. Fridays and the Westside have this taint. This......weight to them now as I make sure my complete day is empty from any obligation. When I do go, if I'm luck I'm usually in a mental fetal position for no longer then the rest of the day. If there is an intensive session I don't usually know it until I wake up on Saturday. By then, depending on how bad it was I can say if I'm ready to continue with life or I'll just remain a nonliving entity until demand and obligation forces me to conform to society once more. 

So while friends are excited for the weekend and have made plans I'm usually bowing out, disappearing and doing my best to ....I don't know really. Be? I can't explain to anyone who has not had it happen on how draining a session can be. It's almost as if you lost the energy as you would be depressed and at the same time you mind is racing, running and jumping between things, almost as if you're having a panic attack. 

Not fun. Not even close. Wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy. Which oddly enough, is me. Ha....still.

*sighs* 

I know, what you're asking. This was a good session? There was a milestone! This is all good, right?

Yea, it was. Is. And yet, it's the same outcome. The only difference is that I'm somehow getting better. I don't see it really. I saw a little of it yesterday as I walked out cheerful, happy, even smiling. I felt as if I won. I even wrote myself notes to remind myself that I've won this week. I achieved something I have never have done and that is going to be good for me in the long run. 

Ok, let me cut to the bone.

I set up my first boundary.

It's something that I never learned to do. Coming from a family with trauma boundaries where never a thing. We suffered each others madness as if it was normal to explode and to let loose. I've never acted out this way until I was in my teens when I made life choices that we foolish and almost regrettable. It would take me a decade to realize that I was missing something. It's almost odd how most people who know about this look at me as if I'm from another planet. I mean, how do you not know how to do that?

A story too long to tell here, but to keep it short, no I never learned this because they people who would teach me this never learned this. They never learned boundaries because they were very young and victims of abuse themselves. Long chain of abuse that has never been resolved until now. 

I want to be the last link in the chain. I wanted. Sadly, it's not going to happen. My children may be the last link. Or not. I worry. I will always worry.

Ok, focus....*takes breath*

I learned to make a boundary. I was actually praised for it and at the moment it was very blatant. Trying to do a favor for someone who does not see that they're taking advantage of me. I have a kind heart. I give. it's my greatest strength and weakness. I give of myself, alot. I do everything I can to help those around me, yet I'm never able to help myself. I'm not able to do what I need to do to take care of myself. There was a time I thought that if you loved someone they would cover your back and you would cover theirs. This is not the case, even in a perfect place or time. Everyone is out for themselves. Not in a cruel way, but they are number one on their own list. Sadistic fucks are just number one through ten in every list, but every normal person is their number one.

I was never on the list. I was told it was selfish and wrong to be on your own list. To want things for yourself. Or just to make life better. You should think of others. They should be on your list. Never you. 

So...yea....I set up a boundary. I set one up and it had to be blatant. I set it and it had to be neon huge blinking lights and vulgar swagged. It had to be obscenely perverse and mockingly obvious. It had to be the biggest baby step I've ever had taken.

And when I did I basically stumbled forward, tripped and rolled in the right direction. To my credit I did recover and continue, but it had to be stupidly blatant. Like someone propositioning you for sex and you didn't get it until you were 10 minutes asleep. 

Yea, that bad.

Yet, yay? I guess?

So I was praised. And celebrated. And Crazy Doc was proud.

And yet, I feel......drained. 

Good or bad it feels the same. It feels as if got hit with the train that is coming back for me. Good or bad, it's going to hit me again and again. 

Trust the process. You have to trust the process. I'm told I'm doing "better". I have to do the one thing I don't want to do in this situation, but I have no choice. I have to do the one thing my entire being says that I should never do, to survive. 

I have to trust. I hate trust. I should be allowed to.

The only difference between poison and the cure is if you can survive the concentration given.