Turtle - Life In Real Time
Lead and first image: some artwork I made on sheetrock with melted crayons. I love painting with fire!
I heard tiny, whining, grunting sounds. They sounded sad.
I rolled over and adjusted the pillow over my head but after a few seconds I heard them again.
The sounds were coming from me.
I finally took the pillow off my face and opened my eyes. I realized I really didn't want to be awake, so lay back down and tried to fall asleep again.
It didn't really work. I felt d6ad and anxious.
After tossing and turning for a while, I finally forced myself out of bed.
I took my thyroid pill and made my way to the bathroom. After 30 minutes (the amount of time I must wait before putting anything in my stomach or the thyroid medication loses efficacy) I had my coffee. I sat and I sipped and I smoked.
And I realized for the past few weeks I've been exhibiting the same behavior as I did in high school.
High school was not a good time in my life. I was bullied in school, bullied at home, had been sexually assaulted by boys at school (we didn't call it that, then - I just thought it meant they liked me) who later bragged, usually untruthfully, about their conquest, encouraging other boys to seek out the "easy" girl. I wasn't easy. I was still a virgin.
Then, of course, the girls got wind of the boys' rumors and magnified them. And the bullying got worse.
I turned to drugs and alcohol. At age 14 I was either drunk or stoned or both during school hours. I smoked on campus and was always getting suspended.
The abuse at home ramped up, too.
I was filled with a deep seated shame. I knew I was rotten to the core. Every night when I was falling asleep I fervently hoped to not wake up.
Every morning when I first woke up, I would stick my head out from under the pillow and feel disappointed I was still alive. I would roll over, put the pillow back over my head and go back to sleep.
I called this behavior "turtle-ing." Even back thenI recognized the behavior for what it was: escape.
I no longer hope to not wake up and I'm no longer disappointed when I do wake up.
This morning I realized I am turtle-ing again.
There's been so much going on in my life the past few years. Some of it dealing with our son and his depression. Some of it dealing with a strange mystery illness (now resolved). Some of it, after our son tuned 18 and moved out and my psyche deemed it was time (and safe) for me to concentrate on a lifetime of "hashtag me too" moments, dealing with the memories I had suppressed.
And now, back to my son again.
In the mornings, when I first awake and I remember, I just don't want to have the day.
My feelings are too big.
I have no control over so much and you bet your bottom dollar I want to control.
I want to control my son's environment and his treatment. I want to take away all of his bad feelings. I want to hold him and rock him to sleep on my lap.
I want to control time and turn back the clock and change the past.
I want better control over my income and my work product. I want better control over my thoughts and memories and subconscious.
And it feels like I'm so out of control. It feels like life is happening TO me rather than happening because of me.
And I hate it.
In therapy, I recently learned I have never actually grieved. I've always escaped.
I've not grieved the death of my innocence. I've not grieved the loss of my children (that's a long story for another time). I've not grieved the death of my marriage (now restored). I've not grieved the death of my paternal grandmother, who was my favorite. I've not grieved the death of my father.
I've not grieved.
I've escaped. And suppressed. And escaped some more.
I flee from unpleasant feelings.
I flee as far and as fast as I can.
Today, I recognize the turtle for what it is. My safety shell. In the mornings, I poke my head out of the shell, see it isn't safe and pull my head back in.
Only, I AM safe. I'm safe in the sense that the abuses of the past will not find me here in the present. The abusers are far away or dead. I AM safe BECAUSE I have no control.
It's a hard concept to accept.
Because I have no control, I can't be held accountable. I can't be responsible for so much.
When I do have control, I tend to freak out because what if I fail? What if bad things happen and it's all my fault?
I have survived my past. I have done everything I could possibly do for my son and I love him so much. And I'm pretty sure he knows I love him so much.
My husband is my biggest supporter and my rock.
Even my animals help me to feel loved. Help me to feel as if I am a good person.
I just need to learn to believe, down in my bones, I'm safe, I'm good, I'm ok.
Even turtle-ing is ok.
Ohh sorry for your past dear but, even how hard and difficult it is your still lucky because your survive and overcome all the pain, and I'm pretty sure your son made it also, because he have you in his life willing to support him and Understand him, God bless you and your family I will pray for you