Post by istjer on Sept 2, 2014 11:43:59 GMT -8
Hi my name is Eric I'm 54 years old and have never had an intimate relationship in my life. If only I had sought legal counsel at 16 months of age, became emancipated and moved in with a wild pack of wolves, certainly my life would have turned out less lonely. I'm a textbook case of emotional incest except I've always called it the surrogate spouse.
My dad worked at Joseph Schlitz Brewing Co. and my mother wore the pants in the home and those pants were iron. I understand that parents do the best that they can. I don't expect my mother to change, she doesn't even know that she is a destructive narcissist who can't love unconditionally, so I can't say I know what unconditional love is, I just know what unconditional love isn't.
My dad was an alcoholic and his shortcomings were obvious. I've learned that the addict/alcoholic gets fingers pointed at them quite frequently and I used to blame my dad for my problems, when my mom continually used me as a pawn attempting to control my dads drinking. My mother smothered me with attention and I could feel the anger my dad had for me. My whole life was spent walking on egg shells, finger nails bitten to nothing because my anxiety was so bad. I look at old photos of me as a child and can see the anxiety. My dad was not emotionally available, and I learned many dysfunctional traits from him, the things my mom did to me, manipulative, covert, underhanded controlling, berating is the reason I have core emotional problems. It took me many years to become aware of the destructive things my mother is guilty of..
I remember at about four years old I wouldn't let my mother or any other woman touch me, hug me, or kiss me; the damage had already been done. I instinctively knew my mother was a Succubus, she sucks the life out of all the men in her life and she had powers over me. I paid dearly for any attempt at escaping her.
I knew I was attracted to men at a young age. My sexuality further complicated my life. I was already questioning my self worth, I didn't believe I was worthy of love. My mom used guilt to manipulate me, guilt is my worst enemy. Because of my sexuality I was dealing with toxic shame, there were many nights spent at Saint Genevieve when no one was around begging god to take my life crying uncontrolably. I never felt worthy enough to go inside of gods house, when I look back now after all the sex scandals the Catholic Church has been through, I'm sure god was outside with me after all. Religion has always been another conflict in my life, as if my life weren't already conflicted enough. I don't believe in god, but god watches over me, god always watches over hurt children. It's strange when you feel privileged and victimized, talented and worthless, blessed and cursed.
Admiration replaced love and being the control freak I am I could receive admiration with my achievements, so I felt that I could control that. Love can't be controlled and would be like taking a leap of faith. Part of my distrust in love has to do with my early childhood experiences. The role of the caregiver (my mother) is to be empathic and attuned to the child, to protect and sooth a child when the child is upset. To effectively do that there must be an understanding of the child’s internal experience. In my case there was a breakdown in this process of empathic attunement which prevented me from feeling loved.
Someone outside looking in and even someone already on the inside will never see the destructive narcissist, it took me until age 46 to see it and only because I kept saying that as soon as my mom dies I'm going to be free. With someone to help me work through all of this I could be free otherwise my mom will haunt me even in death.
The position I was placed in by my mother, enmeshed me to both my parents and placator (more yin with passive avoidance of stress) was the obvious role for me. It was my job to hold the family together, and I failed. I blamed myself for my parents divorce. Physiological effects placators experience are digestive tract problems, I've had three upper GI bleeds one in 1994 when I learned I was HIV+, one in 2000 and the last in 2010. I also took the role of the lost child, there was enough drama already in my family and I didn't want to create more. I relate to all the attributes of the placator and most of the lost child with my difficulty asking for help and my intimate relationships with animals who I trust more than people.
I used drugs most of my life to anesthetize the pain. After learning I was HIV+ my drug use got real heavy, I already had a deep seated feeling that I was a mistake and the HIV makes me really feel like damaged goods. I was clean from illegal drugs from July 25, 1996 until September 4, 2006 the day I planned on taking my life because HIV related fatigue had interrupted my addiction to keeping busy. Now I know why I can't relax because keeping busy is my distraction from painful emotional feelings called The Dark Night Of The Soul. I didn't realize at the time that keeping busy is an addiction, as well as eating too much, or the insatiable need for sex.
Early on September 4, 2006 I received a very not so usual call from my dad telling me he loved me, something I waited my entire life to hear, and it was genuine not coming from a bottle of beer. A bright light given to me on one of my darker days. I never questioned why it took 47 years because I needed to hear those three words on that day. My dad died the next day, and I shudder at the thought of my family dealing with two deaths in two days, then there is this repressed angry part of me that says how befitting that would have been.
I realized that for 10+ years I had just traded my addiction to drugs for an addiction to keeping busy. I became suicidal because keeping busy, over eating, drugs, sex are all just distractions and without them it's like a damn breaks and I'm flooded with painful emotions that I don't want to experience but thanks to ShariSchreiber's website I now know I have to feel these terrible feelings if I ever want to be whole again. It's called The Dark Night Of The Soul.
I need immediate help from the drugs and I expect a sh*t storm of painful emotions, I had the only living thing that I ever loved my boo kitty put to sleep almost a year ago and it was like my heart was being ripped out and I haven't dealt with that fully. I won't have any luck with ending the drugs if my sexual addictions are not dealt with. I've made other changes, like believing my gut feeling that someone is trying to take advantage of me. To understand covert-aggressive personalities and to know myself better to stop being taken advantage of. It's like a little piece of me dies everytime someone uses me, I get into this cycle of being angry at them which turns to anger at myself, which morphs into depression. Now I get to practice my I statements, except I am so frightened of confrontation that I'm immediately in Fight or Flight and can't seem to get my I statements right. I need to make more changes because I continue repeating my childhood over and over and over again and my self worth suffers and I want to do just what I did as a child in order to survive hell, I emotionally detach. I quit playing the game so I can't get hurt by anyone else but I hurt myself worse than anyone else could have in the process.
I was at home about 6 mo. ago trying to figure out why I'm so easy to take advantage of when it was time for the raffle the apt. complex I live at has for everyone who paid their rent on time my number was one of the last numbers called and there wasn't many prizes to choose from, the manager shouted for me to grab the doormat. God or The Universe works in mysterious ways. I immediately purchased The Doormat Syndrome by Lynne Namka.
I need to do a lot of work with my little child, I thought that little child had died back in the 1990's. It's that little boy that the animals see. I used to take things apart when I was younger, I wanted to know how things work, of course I would break things and you know what I still do. Instead of my mom let's say encouraging my curiosity, maybe do a little dumpster diving to find that little boy things to take apart and break but instead she decided to berate that little boy so he has her critical voice constantly in his head. Then considering the child likes to take things apart let's get him fake wooden tools for a christmas present, that still bothers me, shes not stupid and that seems like she was punishing me Now it's that little boy who people call if something needs repairing. It hurts because I know I could have done great things with encouragement.
Now I think I'm going to swing on the chandelier au revoir!
My dad worked at Joseph Schlitz Brewing Co. and my mother wore the pants in the home and those pants were iron. I understand that parents do the best that they can. I don't expect my mother to change, she doesn't even know that she is a destructive narcissist who can't love unconditionally, so I can't say I know what unconditional love is, I just know what unconditional love isn't.
My dad was an alcoholic and his shortcomings were obvious. I've learned that the addict/alcoholic gets fingers pointed at them quite frequently and I used to blame my dad for my problems, when my mom continually used me as a pawn attempting to control my dads drinking. My mother smothered me with attention and I could feel the anger my dad had for me. My whole life was spent walking on egg shells, finger nails bitten to nothing because my anxiety was so bad. I look at old photos of me as a child and can see the anxiety. My dad was not emotionally available, and I learned many dysfunctional traits from him, the things my mom did to me, manipulative, covert, underhanded controlling, berating is the reason I have core emotional problems. It took me many years to become aware of the destructive things my mother is guilty of..
I remember at about four years old I wouldn't let my mother or any other woman touch me, hug me, or kiss me; the damage had already been done. I instinctively knew my mother was a Succubus, she sucks the life out of all the men in her life and she had powers over me. I paid dearly for any attempt at escaping her.
I knew I was attracted to men at a young age. My sexuality further complicated my life. I was already questioning my self worth, I didn't believe I was worthy of love. My mom used guilt to manipulate me, guilt is my worst enemy. Because of my sexuality I was dealing with toxic shame, there were many nights spent at Saint Genevieve when no one was around begging god to take my life crying uncontrolably. I never felt worthy enough to go inside of gods house, when I look back now after all the sex scandals the Catholic Church has been through, I'm sure god was outside with me after all. Religion has always been another conflict in my life, as if my life weren't already conflicted enough. I don't believe in god, but god watches over me, god always watches over hurt children. It's strange when you feel privileged and victimized, talented and worthless, blessed and cursed.
Admiration replaced love and being the control freak I am I could receive admiration with my achievements, so I felt that I could control that. Love can't be controlled and would be like taking a leap of faith. Part of my distrust in love has to do with my early childhood experiences. The role of the caregiver (my mother) is to be empathic and attuned to the child, to protect and sooth a child when the child is upset. To effectively do that there must be an understanding of the child’s internal experience. In my case there was a breakdown in this process of empathic attunement which prevented me from feeling loved.
Someone outside looking in and even someone already on the inside will never see the destructive narcissist, it took me until age 46 to see it and only because I kept saying that as soon as my mom dies I'm going to be free. With someone to help me work through all of this I could be free otherwise my mom will haunt me even in death.
The position I was placed in by my mother, enmeshed me to both my parents and placator (more yin with passive avoidance of stress) was the obvious role for me. It was my job to hold the family together, and I failed. I blamed myself for my parents divorce. Physiological effects placators experience are digestive tract problems, I've had three upper GI bleeds one in 1994 when I learned I was HIV+, one in 2000 and the last in 2010. I also took the role of the lost child, there was enough drama already in my family and I didn't want to create more. I relate to all the attributes of the placator and most of the lost child with my difficulty asking for help and my intimate relationships with animals who I trust more than people.
I used drugs most of my life to anesthetize the pain. After learning I was HIV+ my drug use got real heavy, I already had a deep seated feeling that I was a mistake and the HIV makes me really feel like damaged goods. I was clean from illegal drugs from July 25, 1996 until September 4, 2006 the day I planned on taking my life because HIV related fatigue had interrupted my addiction to keeping busy. Now I know why I can't relax because keeping busy is my distraction from painful emotional feelings called The Dark Night Of The Soul. I didn't realize at the time that keeping busy is an addiction, as well as eating too much, or the insatiable need for sex.
Early on September 4, 2006 I received a very not so usual call from my dad telling me he loved me, something I waited my entire life to hear, and it was genuine not coming from a bottle of beer. A bright light given to me on one of my darker days. I never questioned why it took 47 years because I needed to hear those three words on that day. My dad died the next day, and I shudder at the thought of my family dealing with two deaths in two days, then there is this repressed angry part of me that says how befitting that would have been.
I realized that for 10+ years I had just traded my addiction to drugs for an addiction to keeping busy. I became suicidal because keeping busy, over eating, drugs, sex are all just distractions and without them it's like a damn breaks and I'm flooded with painful emotions that I don't want to experience but thanks to ShariSchreiber's website I now know I have to feel these terrible feelings if I ever want to be whole again. It's called The Dark Night Of The Soul.
I need immediate help from the drugs and I expect a sh*t storm of painful emotions, I had the only living thing that I ever loved my boo kitty put to sleep almost a year ago and it was like my heart was being ripped out and I haven't dealt with that fully. I won't have any luck with ending the drugs if my sexual addictions are not dealt with. I've made other changes, like believing my gut feeling that someone is trying to take advantage of me. To understand covert-aggressive personalities and to know myself better to stop being taken advantage of. It's like a little piece of me dies everytime someone uses me, I get into this cycle of being angry at them which turns to anger at myself, which morphs into depression. Now I get to practice my I statements, except I am so frightened of confrontation that I'm immediately in Fight or Flight and can't seem to get my I statements right. I need to make more changes because I continue repeating my childhood over and over and over again and my self worth suffers and I want to do just what I did as a child in order to survive hell, I emotionally detach. I quit playing the game so I can't get hurt by anyone else but I hurt myself worse than anyone else could have in the process.
I was at home about 6 mo. ago trying to figure out why I'm so easy to take advantage of when it was time for the raffle the apt. complex I live at has for everyone who paid their rent on time my number was one of the last numbers called and there wasn't many prizes to choose from, the manager shouted for me to grab the doormat. God or The Universe works in mysterious ways. I immediately purchased The Doormat Syndrome by Lynne Namka.
I need to do a lot of work with my little child, I thought that little child had died back in the 1990's. It's that little boy that the animals see. I used to take things apart when I was younger, I wanted to know how things work, of course I would break things and you know what I still do. Instead of my mom let's say encouraging my curiosity, maybe do a little dumpster diving to find that little boy things to take apart and break but instead she decided to berate that little boy so he has her critical voice constantly in his head. Then considering the child likes to take things apart let's get him fake wooden tools for a christmas present, that still bothers me, shes not stupid and that seems like she was punishing me Now it's that little boy who people call if something needs repairing. It hurts because I know I could have done great things with encouragement.
Now I think I'm going to swing on the chandelier au revoir!
