Went to bed last night thinking of some many things I read yesterday from this board. This morning I woke feeling two major emotions. Anger and frustration about an experience I had 2 years ago. I hope it is ok to share that. Maybe some of you wiser ones can help me to process it to the letting go place.
Two years ago, I really hit bottom. My husband is addicted to pornography. I had been sexually abused by a man and a woman when I was a child. His addiction was re-traumatizing. He was in denial. I was just starting to come out of my denial and pushing him to get help or I would have to consider leaving. I had been part of this N family that was , as I have already explained, perfect. They don't yell at me. But they control, undermine, use my stuff against me, etc. But at the time, I really bought into all of it. I thought that I was the prob. Thought that I was the one that was causing all the problems just by being myself. I had just had a baby. It was a high risk pregnancy and I had been in bed for months. My husband resented me for getting sick and for getting pregnant. Tuned me out. Emotionally checked out. Blamed me for ruining his happiness. In an attempt to help him deal with the difficult circumstances, I agreed to move in with his parents until the baby came. My MIL jumped at the chance to serve. She jumped into my role as mother with my 3 kids. At the time, I did not understand N. I became so confused and unprepared for the shame and control that would come to me for being sick. I became very depressed. My husband thought I was so ugly....ghastly even....as a pregnant woman. My body would work. I couldn't walk and I had constant pain. Anyway, after the baby came I was so happy to get into my home. My MIL wouldn't let go. Was at the house before 6am. Being independent and wanting some privacy, I asked her for space. She ignored me for 7 days. That final day she came to the house, got impatient because i hadn't bought the right cleaner for my fridge and I blew. I said I couldn't take it. That I was sorry I didn't have the right cleaner. Could she please go. I need some space. Well, I am still paying the price for that one. (story for another day)
Long story short, I was stressed for a long time. One day, my husband told me that he had fantasied about me dying, so that when his brother passed (he has Cystic Fibrosis), that he could marry his wife. She is smart and pretty and young. Well, I hit the floor. Depression, self hatred, pain !
It was the final straw. On Thanksgiving morning (ironicallly it was the anniversary of our first date), I checked myself in a hospital. I still remember the intensity of pain on my children's faces as I left that morning. All I could think about was killing the pain inside me. And at the same time healing the pain with whatever means I could. So desperate. Didn't have any intension of suicide, but was really battling the thoughts. The ER told me that because i hadn't attempted anything that I could join their program and leave whenever I felt I was ready. They lied. They took me upstairs and locked all the doors. took my clothes, my bags, my jewelry--everything. Patted me down like I was enter juvy. I was so scared. Told them this wasn't what I thought it was. Told them I wanted to leave. Wouldn't let me. Called my husband for help. He felt bad but didn't act to help me. Alone in my very cold room, I prayed for help. A sweet feeling came to me. I was being told to have peace. To accept that I was there and to learn whatever I could. That He (God) would be with me when I got out. So, I changed my attitude. Gave it all my effort. Learned some great stuff. Found that "self" i had lost.
This morning when I woke, I felt so angry about this experience. Angry that I let so many things take me down. Angry that I didn't fight for myself. Angry that it happened. Angry at the hospital. Angry my husband didn't do more to help. Angry that I let myself get so low. Angry I lost myself. Angry I lost my self respect. Angry I thought about ending my life. Angry about my H's family system. ANGRY!!! that I was so alone and lost.
Well, anyway. I don't feel so angry anymore now that I have finished typing. I somehow feel better. Somehow I feel grateful.
PS. While I was in the hospital, my husband told his family about the sitation. They congratulated themselves on not being like me. Didn't understand it then. Grateful I do now.
Thanks for listening. --mof4
