Tag: abuse

The Difference Between Abuse And Care

Bones
Photo by Sydney Sims on Unsplash

I had a very interesting discovery the other day.

I had a friend make a joke on one of my posts that suggested I might have a diagnosis other than fibromyalgia. She’s suggested this particular diagnosis ad nauseam in the past. I didn’t take it well. I was upset and antsy and, after some prompting from another friend, I politely set a boundary of can we please not with this topic, and how it makes me feel.

And she apologised. She apologised, explained she had been trying to make a joke about how she could empathise with my experiences because she has the other diagnosis, and the injury I had experienced is one she could imagine herself doing. Then she apologised for missing the mark with the joke. And none of it was ‘I’m sorry you feel that way’ or anything like that, it was a true and genuine apology, taking responsibility for what she said and how that made me feel.

It was freeing in a way I cannot put into words. Suddenly I wasn’t offended by the joke, and I could feel her care and consideration for me. It increased my love and respect for her a thousandfold.

This is totally different to the friend I lost. During my diagnosis process for both fibromyalgia and trigeminal neuralgia, when the doctor and I were both pretty sure what I had but were doing the formalities, she would send me messages with all sorts of different things I could have. Constantly. I rarely mentioned any of my symptoms past ‘ow’. She never once asked about them. And she was saying ‘oh what about this? and this? you could have this!’ I repeatedly told her we were pretty confident it was fibromyalgia (or trigeminal neuralgia) and it felt like she was dismissing my knowledge and my doctor’s knowledge of the situation.

She never apologised. She would only say ‘I just don’t want you to have x because it’s chronic and it’s awful’. That is not a place of care. That is a place of control. Which pretty much summed up our whole relationship.

Because of my long history of being abused (right from infancy through to this latest ‘friend’), I have difficulty with identifying when people come from a place of care and love. It’s often only once I begin to establish a boundary, and they accept it and apologise for stepping on it that I can tell the difference.

It has started healing a little part of me that was very raw.

Money Matters

Bones

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I just received news that the long awaited inheritance is now not far off – and that it is likely to be more than originally anticipated.

I freaked out.  Total meltdown.  Still am.  My brain is frazzled, I’m bouncing all over the show, and not all of it is delight.  A lot of it is anxiety.

While hand combing out knotted fur and rambling (surprisingly therapeutic) I realised that my anxiety with money and the lack thereof didn’t actually begin, as I thought, with Him, my narcissistic ex, but rather in my childhood.

I grew up lower middle class in a family of five – two siblings.  We were fed, we were clothed, we had school books and that adhesive sparkly wrap to make them more interesting than just exercise books.  We had healthy lunches.

We would walk to school, rain or shine, typically a 30 minute walk at a good clip.  Mum would walk to the green grocer to pick up veggies for our lunches, and to the butcher to get meats for our sandwiches.  She tried her hand at growing vegetables, but with her severe depression when I was growing up, it was difficult.  She would trawl op shops for clothing for us.  Once in a while I would get a new top or a new pair of pants, which were always from the cheaper shops.

I hated growing because it would mean new shoes, so I would wear the same shoes until my toes were curled in and it was too painful to wear the shoes.  We would drive for 30 minutes to the cheaper shoe shop and Mum would always be fussing over the price of things.  I would always pick the cheapest pair I could walk in.

It took me years before I finally asked to get a bra, and then it was only one.  Once I grew out of that, I would only ever have two bras, and I would wear them until they broke, because I hated shopping with Mum.  We would only ever go to the cheap stores when they were having really good sales.

I understand these are all sensible things to do, but to my growing brain, it was ‘you can’t get money spent on you, we don’t have enough’.  This has been emphasised over and over again in my life by people of great import.  If it weren’t for one of my oldest friends, I wouldn’t have a healthy relationship with money or spending at all.

Compound that with the last 13 years of being in debt with no savings to speak of and barely solvent, as well as, at some stages, barely having enough money to feed myself let alone my animals (they always came first), I have no fucking clue how to be a person with financial security and it scares the shit out of me.

I was gifted with a relatively significant sum when I was with Him from a family member passing.  I paid off my debt, and he insisted on going on holiday overseas and all these expensive things that of course he couldn’t pay for and I had the money so I should pay for them.  It was gone within two months.

I know it’s not going to happen this time, for one thing, I’m not with Him, and for another thing, it’s considerably more, but the fear is still there all the same.  Any sum of money I receive disappears.  POOF!  All gone, with nought but memories and a sour taste in my mouth.  And while intellectually I know it’s not going to happen this time, there is still the overwhelming terror of it all just disappearing.

And of the unknown, this mythical financial security thing that, at 33, I have never felt like I have had.  Even the idea of it is scary.  What do I do with myself?  How to I live without the looming fear of debt, the worry over whether or not I can afford to buy cat food this week?  How do I live if not paycheck to paycheck?

This is entirely new and terrifying territory.  Because I know I am overwhelmed and can’t process this information myself, I will book an appointment with my counsellor for the extra help.  There’s a lot going on here, and this should be an amazing and exciting thing, but it’s not.

The Journey from Victim to Vulnerable and the Dichotomy of Being Disabled

Bones

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I had a thoroughly eye-opening discussion with my therapist the other day.

I spoke to her about what had happened with my friend who, after I wrote my last blog, sent me a long message where she accused me of a lot of things (predominantly to do with empathy and consideration, two things she knows I care deeply about), denied she had ever acted in a way that would have me guard myself against her, attack me for what I did to her by making my decision without consulting her, and then cast herself into the victim.  She used DARVO – Deny, Attack, Reverse Victim and Offender – to a rather good initial result.

But I had an uncomfortable feeling in my gut.  Her response didn’t feel right.  It felt like she was trying to guilt me, to suck me in and force me to conform and appease her.

I contacted my good friend who is well and truly experienced in these things, having had years of therapy to work through a narcissistic mother.  He was the one who pointed out what she was doing, and from there we unravelled the past abuse and control so I could see it for what I was.

I explained all of this to my therapist and she pointed out to me that my friend (well, now ex-friend) exists in the Drama Triangle – that is “Fixer”, “Offender” and “Victim”.  The alternative triangle is “Support”, “Assertive” and “Vulnerable”.  Now I exist in this latter triangle with my good friends, and this was where I thought our relationship had existed.  Looking back now, even my behaviour indicates that we weren’t.

I feel like when I acted, when I advised her of my decision, I was being assertive.  I definitely wasn’t in the offender role, I was very careful with my wording so the ‘blame’ for our incompatible conflict styles didn’t rest on her, but rather on both of us, because it IS both of us who have incompatible conflict styles.

Her response, however, was entirely trapped within the Drama Triangle, and she was trying to pull me back into it.  She was very clearly attempting to goad me into responding and returning to her triangle, which will feed her need for drama (she once admitted to me that she would actively seek to start fights, and she would actively continue fights with her best friend – this included calling her a bitch – because she wanted to).  I refused to do so.

We have since had a number of university classes together, in close enough confines, but without direct interaction.  I have felt myself subconsciously fall into the ‘victim’ mentality.  My thoughts go sad, I hunch in, and I feel guilty at the same time as feeling abused.  This is not a role I want to be in, because it means I have fallen back into the Drama Triangle, so I take a moment to breathe, draw my shoulders back, and reaffirm myself and my actions.

While I’m not around her, I am able to stay in the other triangle, in the ‘assertive’ role.  When I am around her, even with her very deliberately and completely cold shouldering me, I find myself falling back into her triangle.

This is because our relationship exists in a ‘closed’ system, where our roles are fixed and there are set rules.  I was, of course, cast into the role of ‘helpless cripple’ while she was in the role of ‘fixer’ or ‘hero’.  In a closed system, there is no movement about the various roles that one can be in a relationship, there can only be these two roles, and when one person in that relationship attempts to move into a different role, or out of the fixed role, the system seeks to return to homeostasis.  That is, the system seeks to return that person to their fixed role, sometimes through any means necessary.

In my other relationships, I exist in ‘open’ systems, where we move through the various roles one can take in the relationship depending on what’s going on at the time.  This means when one person is feeling vulnerable, the other can support them or be the hero, and vice versa.  There is the give and take of healthy relationships.  There is also room to exist in two states which, for someone who is disabled, is exactly what we do.  We exist as ‘vulnerable’ (as we are disabled, and therefore always vulnerable to some extent) but we can exist as ‘hero’ at the same time.

This is the dichotomy of the disabled.  We are always ‘vulnerable’, but we exist beyond that at the same time.  It’s a surprisingly difficult concept to wrap ones head around, and indeed it took me until earlier this year to really grasp it.  Initially, it was my own mentality trapping me there.  Then it was her mentality trapping me there.  Being a pathological people pleaser meant I adapted to what was expected of me, and remained adapted to that long past where I should have.  I remained in her closed system, and placated her closed system when she snapped (because I took a teeny tiny step out of it), for quite some time.

But now I’ve challenged that closed system, and I have removed myself from her Drama Triangle.  She made an attempt to draw me back into both and, due to a combination of being blocked and having no phone credit, as well as being surrounded by amazing friends, I did not return to it.  I did not placate the system, and I did not engage with her aggression and abuse.

It’s a surprisingly freeing feeling.

Today I Lost A Friend (And I Caused It)

Bones

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Today I lost a friend, and I caused that loss.  I’m sad.  Actually, more devastated.  She has been my very close friend throughout this year at university, but prior to that we were friends for about 3 years.

We were going to do a thing together, one that had major financial implications for me, and a lot of time investment from her.  I decided it was not going to work for me, it was not something I wanted to do at all, I told her before she devoted herself to it.  We’d both put some time into it, her more than I, and she’d put some money into it, but neither of us would lose a huge amount.

I decided it wasn’t going to work for me for a number of reasons, some of which were friendship problems (I didn’t think our friendship would survive the business relationship), and the other of which I would be putting in a lot of money that I would rather put to use elsewhere.  Like a deposit for buying my first house.  Or implement some new thing to help with my fibromyalgia or trigeminal neuralgia.

Talking to other friends (right now) is making me realise there were other cracks in our friendship long before now.  There were controlling aspects, an imbalance in the dynamic of the relationship (I was assigned the role of helpless invalid which, at the time, I must admit I was, but it never changed as I became less helpless).

There was an issue wherein she demanded control over my actions and I did not cede to it, because my assessment of the situation was different to hers.  This was a major point of contention, with her continually stating that I had a fear of losing control, that I did not trust her because I did not relinquish complete control to her, and that that was hurtful.  I hadn’t realised until now how manipulative that is.

Okay, so I lost someone I felt was a very close friend because I put myself first in a situation that would have a major impact on me and said this is not something I am going to do.  I want to keep the friendship, and I do not feel it will survive a business partnership, and I am unwilling to mix those.  Therefore I will not do it.

She noped right out the door and locked it after her.  And damn if that doesn’t hurt.

Nightmares – A Small Setback

Bones

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I’ve been having dreams, nightmares, whatever you want to call it, I’ve been having it.  It invariably involves one or the other of my past abusers.

My usual nightmare involves It, the narcissist I was with for the longest, the one who caused the most damage, and my PTSD.  It typically involves him returning, and just assuming that the relationship is back on, and I fake it.  I fake it to hide my relationship with my amazing human being – which is basically what I’m doing now, minus the being in a relationship with him part, and more with him being on the other side of the world (THANK FUCK).

My first abuser was in my dream last night.  Then, later on in the dream, I did what I have always dreaded doing.  I said Its name instead of my amazing human being’s name.

Sometimes, in the awake world, It’s name will be on the tip of my tongue instead of my amazing human’s name.  I don’t speak when that happens.  I have almost been away from him for the same length of time as I was with him, but some scars take longer to heal than others.

All of this has … done something to me.  I feel flat and anxious at the same time.  I don’t want to do anything.  I want to bundle up in a blanket and drink tea and watch Forensic Files.

And unfortunately I can’t today.  Or at least not all day.  I have adulting I must do before I can be an amorphous blob.