Ahhh, therapy.
We met with our new marriage counselor today. Our previous one, who I'd come to trust and respect, had to go away on leave for a few months, and now we have a new one. It was interesting.
I completely melted down in the session. I had no idea it was going to happen, but it did. My husband was yelling. I was talking about being afraid, and he was telling me that I am not afraid of him and that I was misrepresenting the situation to make it seem like he's a bully. I was shaking and crying and unable to speak.
Apparently, I am recovering from trauma.
It's interesting.
These counselors seem to think that the traumatic incident must be in my childhood. There certainly was trauma in my childhood, but it doesn't quite seem true to me that the trauma that is rendering me speechless in marriage counseling comes from those instances. Those instances got me ready to be in a relationship with my husband, but the trauma I'm reeling from right now is the trauma that has come from this relationship. Living constantly in a state of fear and stress and doubt for a couple of years has made quite an impact on me. I'm working on recovering from it, and I know that my husband is, too; however, the marks are there. It's real, and it's going to take a lot of work on both of our parts to get through it. I know I've got it in me to push through to the other side, but I'm not sure that my husband has it in him. The counselor today observed the lack of empathy my husband had for my apparent fear.
Showing posts with label trauma. Show all posts
Showing posts with label trauma. Show all posts
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
Thursday, April 9, 2009
The Gun.
I spoke with my Al-Anon sponsor this morning, and I told her that things are going kind of shockingly well at my house. I am grateful for the peace that I'm finding, and I'm glad that I'm finding it, at least for now, without having to separate myself from my husband. In spite of how well things are working, however, I am frequently finding myself feeling as if I'm still braced for a blow. I am suspicious of the calm, and I'm sort of waiting for everything to blow up.
She told me a story she'd heard about soldiers suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder after losing a limb. There were several reports of soldiers who had lost their limbs in battle while holding their guns with their fingers perched on the trigger. After losing their limbs, they still felt as if they were holding a gun, which made them jumpy. My sponsor told me that one way these soldiers' counselors helped them to lose the gun was to ask them to look in a mirror and picture themselves releasing the gun. After doing it repeatedly over some time, eventually they stopped feeling like they were about to shoot everyone around them.
I think I am still holding a gun in my phantom limb in ways. While everything in my life looks like it's going well, I wake up in the middle of the night fearing for my safety. I have flashes of panic and I'm sometimes suspicious of my husband.
Recovery serves for me as that mirror and that affirmation, that exhortation to let go of what isn't serving me anymore. If I keep working on my stuff, I believe that I'll drop the gun.
She told me a story she'd heard about soldiers suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder after losing a limb. There were several reports of soldiers who had lost their limbs in battle while holding their guns with their fingers perched on the trigger. After losing their limbs, they still felt as if they were holding a gun, which made them jumpy. My sponsor told me that one way these soldiers' counselors helped them to lose the gun was to ask them to look in a mirror and picture themselves releasing the gun. After doing it repeatedly over some time, eventually they stopped feeling like they were about to shoot everyone around them.
I think I am still holding a gun in my phantom limb in ways. While everything in my life looks like it's going well, I wake up in the middle of the night fearing for my safety. I have flashes of panic and I'm sometimes suspicious of my husband.
Recovery serves for me as that mirror and that affirmation, that exhortation to let go of what isn't serving me anymore. If I keep working on my stuff, I believe that I'll drop the gun.
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
Trauma.
"Sometimes a breakdown can be the beginning of a kind of breakthrough, a way of living in advance through a trauma that prepares you for a radical transformation."
-Cherie Moraga
I learned something new about myself in marriage counseling yesterday.
My husband and I were trying to process what has been happening between us over the last few days. Mostly, he was being big and loud, shouting about how I think he's stupid because he likes football and how I make him feel like shit and how it's not fair and how I'm out to get him and on and on, big and loud. I looked out the window and fought back a rising feeling of panic.
The counselor asked him to stop for a few minutes and to look at me. She asked him to describe what he saw. He said, "She looks to me like she's probably realizing she's wrong." The counselor asked him again to describe what he saw. "She looks like she's shaking. I don't know. She always looks like that." Our counselor kept pushing, and finally, he said, "She looks scared."
I had a hard time expressing myself, but "scared" is an apt word to describe what I was feeling. Shaky, afraid, confused, and unsure of what I needed to feel better.
The counselor then began to talk to us about trauma and the ways people react after a traumatic incident. It's not the first time I've heard my reactions to various events in my life as post-traumatic. In my first therapy, when I was about 18 years old, we talked about the trauma of surviving sexual abuse and the trauma of surviving the various situations I'd gotten myself into while acting out in response to the sexual abuse. After September 11th, I talked to a therapist for a bit about my weird responses. For months afterward, I was afraid of blimps, low-flying airplanes, loud noises...I'd startle easily, and I felt a little separated from myself. Now, I'm talking through trauma again, and finding some clarity in understanding my responses to my husband's behavior.
He is doing well, still. Recovery is new, and he's afraid and kind of a mess and unsure of how to deal with the emotions he's been blotting out for years. Sometimes, he doesn't know what to do with himself, and he kind of boils over. When I see that happening, I retreat into primal fear. I am very, very afraid of him yelling, walking around and seeming too big in the room. I am afraid of him going away by starting to use again--going away into his addict. I am afraid of his behavior being so awful that I have to make him go away. I am living in fear of the past coming back, and stumbling over my own psychological patterns. When things are big and terrifying, I have some well-worn patterns of emotional retreat, and I go there quickly.
It's interesting, but identifying the reaction, giving it a name, helped me to see what was happening better, and it also gave my husband an opportunity to hear me and see what was happening. I got some empathy from him, and I think we might both be better able to handle these situations better in the future. Good stuff.
I learned something new about myself in marriage counseling yesterday.
My husband and I were trying to process what has been happening between us over the last few days. Mostly, he was being big and loud, shouting about how I think he's stupid because he likes football and how I make him feel like shit and how it's not fair and how I'm out to get him and on and on, big and loud. I looked out the window and fought back a rising feeling of panic.
The counselor asked him to stop for a few minutes and to look at me. She asked him to describe what he saw. He said, "She looks to me like she's probably realizing she's wrong." The counselor asked him again to describe what he saw. "She looks like she's shaking. I don't know. She always looks like that." Our counselor kept pushing, and finally, he said, "She looks scared."
I had a hard time expressing myself, but "scared" is an apt word to describe what I was feeling. Shaky, afraid, confused, and unsure of what I needed to feel better.
The counselor then began to talk to us about trauma and the ways people react after a traumatic incident. It's not the first time I've heard my reactions to various events in my life as post-traumatic. In my first therapy, when I was about 18 years old, we talked about the trauma of surviving sexual abuse and the trauma of surviving the various situations I'd gotten myself into while acting out in response to the sexual abuse. After September 11th, I talked to a therapist for a bit about my weird responses. For months afterward, I was afraid of blimps, low-flying airplanes, loud noises...I'd startle easily, and I felt a little separated from myself. Now, I'm talking through trauma again, and finding some clarity in understanding my responses to my husband's behavior.
He is doing well, still. Recovery is new, and he's afraid and kind of a mess and unsure of how to deal with the emotions he's been blotting out for years. Sometimes, he doesn't know what to do with himself, and he kind of boils over. When I see that happening, I retreat into primal fear. I am very, very afraid of him yelling, walking around and seeming too big in the room. I am afraid of him going away by starting to use again--going away into his addict. I am afraid of his behavior being so awful that I have to make him go away. I am living in fear of the past coming back, and stumbling over my own psychological patterns. When things are big and terrifying, I have some well-worn patterns of emotional retreat, and I go there quickly.
It's interesting, but identifying the reaction, giving it a name, helped me to see what was happening better, and it also gave my husband an opportunity to hear me and see what was happening. I got some empathy from him, and I think we might both be better able to handle these situations better in the future. Good stuff.
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