I'm working. The more I work, the more comes up.
I'm reading The Sociopath Nextdoor. It's not very profound but it does help me see that my father in particular was intentional in his undermining. Had I a clue, I could have walked away the moment I left his house but I believed in him and I have paid a supreme price. I cannot help but believe that my life to date has steeled me for something significant.
My perpetually 3 year old mother had no empathy. I am not sure if she had a conscience or not. But most everything she did for me was a manipulation to get something from me. Nothing came out of a desire to help. It caused me indescribable pain.
I am beginning to replace these buried shaming and destructive messages with hope and encouragement. Just beginning.
Many memories of pain are surfacing. For many years now, perhaps all of my child's life since my husband's death, I have been barely keeping my head above water. I could not look beneath the surface. I had no ability to survive any more pain. I am getting stronger but with each level more and more pain surfaces. It is not too much but it is very much indeed. I cannot yet see what the future might be. I am still and will be for sometime, digging my way. In truth, I have just begun digging out this week. It is scary. I have been longing to dig out for over a decade.
The shame I have lived under has actually taken a toll in more ways than one. It left me exhausted, taxing my depleted adrenals. As I process the shame and it's weight begins to lift I have ever so incrementally more energy.
Shame begets shame. In the depths of shame everything around me becomes infected. Slowly lifting.