Some days recovery is a field. And a yellow weed is growing in a beautiful ploom in the centre.
It takes your energy and all of your strength to pull the weed (as beautiful and wild as it seems) out of the ground. But when you turn around there are hundreds of new weeds, some of them yellow, some of them green and blue and purple and crimson, sprouting up from the earth.
Then you realise you need a helping hand to get rid of the weeds. You enlist family, friends, therapists and doctors to help you clear your field. It feels good to have a helping hand.
From time to time weeds pop up here and there but now you have a team to help you pluck them away and help the earth beneath you heal. As seasons change and sun shines the condition of the field changes and varies but it always remains your field.
And soon you see flowers blooming on the grass in vibrant colours and shades. A fiesta of energy and life.
Other days recovery is a battlefield.
~in which I share my own experience of emotional abuse through signs that I noticed on reflection of my childhood~
- Being ignored, unsure of what I have done to deserve this, for extended periods of time, meanwhile parental roles were neglected. Often Y was left to look after me while X refused to acknowledge my existence, even while I was very young.
- Fear and anxiety when X is talking to me or nearby, I find myself wanting to keep any contact to a minimum.
- Discomfort and unease with any phsycial contact.
- X was often found to be reading my diary or searching my bedroom while I was not there- this was a strong breach of my privacy. X often looks through my bin.
- X often would control how much money I spent and what I spent my money on. Y was often not allowed to spend money unless it was approved by X.
- X controls and decides for me some of my major life decisions, such as what options I was taking for a level and what degree I would like to take at uni.
- Y feeling like she wants to escape the partnership, yet feeling powerless to do so.
- X often expresses anger undirectly through sarcasm, slamming of dishes and talking down to Y and I.
I feel like I am falling in love, over and over again, every minute. I am submerged beneath waves of happiness that I can quite literally feel flowing over my body. I am perspiring and shaking. And although I am in blissful beautiful Euphoria, it’s agonising, painful, uncomfortable and frightening.
Being at such extremes of mood means feeling out of control and spiralling. I’m not sure I’m in control of my limbs or speech. Things come as bursts or explosions rather than flows of water in streams. These rushes of speech can have consequences but when your manic: actions have no consequences.
Time to stay up till 4 in the morning, I guess.
My cheeks are so rosy
That red and purple flowers bloom from them,
planted stem by stem
My face is a garden of roses,
My head is full of thorns
And I cannot escape them.