Tuesday, a couple of days ago, I had group therapy. It is a good session each week. In some ways getting better. It has been going now since the second week of January and wraps up in September.
In the last 3-4 weeks those of us who have been going consistently have really begun to get at a few more deep issues than we have in the past. I have experienced a couple of welcome moments of deep ‘feeling’ in rehashing old experiences and that deep feeling felt more real, and more of an honest relief than I have felt generally ever. I think because it is a session with a bunch of other ‘regular’ people. Therapy is usually exclusive exchange with a therapist and the results are ‘supposed’ to be authoritative somehow and with clear path and results and trajectory because it is in that context. But I realize that I have always walked out of the therapists’ offices feeling like there is such a divide between what happens in there and what happens in my life when I get outside – a lot less insight and focus and practical progress as soon as I leave that room. But with Group, I have been using the time to share in a way that I can have a more practical human experience of self reflection and change and ‘live’ the chance more, because just like when I walk out of that room that week, in the room I have to intersect with and interact with ‘people’ and learn about who I am with that activity. I feel I have been able to experience or look forward to some continuity…like if I can talk to thes people and be myself in Group and empathize etc etc, then I can OUTSIDE the room too…
So this week we were talking about having (or not) a feeling of self-entitlement, asking other people for what we need… How we do or don’t so that. And the bad ways that we do ask. I was able to not only express in my own words my irateness at, for example, my mom because I felt so angry at her for being so blind and self-absorbed. When I expressed that, something came alive in me that I had made sleep my whole life. I said how,
“I thought I was a bad person for being angry, and angry at my mom. I thought I was being a bad daughter for being angry and resentful and…” …for looking angry and resentful and for looking for an explanation for WHY, and for lookin for empathy. She told me I was ‘misbehaving’ when I took matters into my own hands at 9 or 10 years old and climbed a free and called my assaulter an “asshole” as he walked by on the street. I thought all of my reactions, all of the effects of being molested and not protected had on me mad ME a bad person…ME!! Because if I was mad I was ‘bad’. I didn’t know that me being angry was a valuable sign of something. A valuable sign of me. A sign of my value…!!! A sign that those who love me and were completely concerned about me would preoccupy themselves with and be there for me. I did not know… I…Did…Not..Know…
One of the other Group members was listening so closely and was making eye contact with me and when I said “I thought I was a bad person for being angry, and that I think I know now that I am not a bad person for being angry…” He said, “No, you’re not”, softly, sensitively, shaking his head with affirmation.
I could come back to life. I belong here with my anger. I could let my feet touch the ground, stop trying so hard. My anger is a colour that matches the rest of me. Not an off colour or an ugly color. It is a color that captures people, a color with depth. A color that says so many things about me. Not bad things,
A release came in those moments. I could feel the power of myself. And it was not a power imposing on anyone else. My anger was not causing anyone else pain. The anger was no longer bad. And it was something that others could love. It was a sign of love, for myself.
Which I have been learning to have. I have been waiting for the feeling to come with all of the learning though. And the feeling came, briefly. Until the psychiatric resident facilitator at the height/depth of my moment shifted to asking someone else a question…Ghaaah!
That fucking pissed me off. I got cut off, like I always have been.
I need to say that at the next meeting I am in.
My power there, but it is still too shaky to withstand unexpected interruption.
Posted on June 12, 2014, in 12-step, AA, Adult Children, Alanon, codependence, Domestic Violence, emotional abuse, emotional sobriety, Inner child, Meditation, recovery, Relationship, Uncategorized, withdrawal. Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.