My previous post spoke of how it feels to lose someone or many people, close to you; how the waves of grief come crashing down on you. It is talking about death in these instances. But what if the person you are grieving for is still alive but just out of your reach. This is also excruciatingly painful.
When the person is still alive but not in your life any longer, the pain and heartache are also almost unbearable as the waves still come crashing down on you time after time. These tidal surges continue as if they are beating against a ship, wrecked out at sea.
[In advance, I apologize for the length of this post. I wrote it for me. I wrote it because I needed to. I’ve needed to for a long, long time. Even if it is not read by anyone else, that does not matter. This is me … Ellie.]
I was talking to my therapist this morning. We spoke of my late night, yesterday. I was sitting, staring at my computer screen for hours, trawling the internet. I was searching for details of my previous therapist, *K, who I now, (after some years), recognize was emotionally and psychologically abusive to the point that I was totally in love with her, hung on her every word and believed each sentence she spoke. I was desperately searching for her name, her address, her photo, anything; a memory of this woman that I loved so much.
I travelled a round trip of two hours (at a cost to me to the point I was seriously in debt), on three mornings a week for eight years, to be with her. I was so emotionally dependent on her; I could barely breathe without her approval. All those years … all those wasted, damaging, life-threatening years. I don’t use the term ‘life-threatening’ lightly or as a casual, throwaway remark but because on one occasion when she was presumably cross with me for some reason I cannot remember, she actually said ‘Why you don’t go home and kill yourself’ and I tell the God’s honest truth here.
I attempted to take my life. I say cross as opposed to angry because the roles we took were of she, the strict, authoritarian parent, and I, the obedient child. She encouraged and nurtured this to the point where I loved and depended on her more than I did my own mother. There were hugs, kisses, gifts, cards etc. Every time she didn’t reply to a text or answer the phone (all of which were smashing the boundaries leaving nothing but a ship wrecked at sea), I punished my body in a self-destructive way because I assumed she didn’t ‘love’ me anymore and therefore, I envisaged that I had done something wrong; I had been the disobedient child. I actually took a blade to my skin, a bottle to my lips and dozens of pills to my throat on many an occasion.
It ended suddenly. It ended on the day of my father’s death when she questioned me as to why I was so upset and wasn’t I happy on this day, bearing in mind he had seriously abused me for all of my childhood? Nevertheless, he was still my father and somewhere amongst the hate, the terror, the disgust and the shame, he was still the only father I had and yes, I was upset that my father had died. In disgust and frustration, (because she had been insisting I relive the sexual abuse that took place all those years), she walked out on me and never came back. As well as losing my father that day, I lost my therapist, my guide, my mother, my friend and ally, my everything. I was devastated. I wanted to die along with the loss of her. I attempted this and woke, days later, in intensive care, but I survived and recovered slowly, at least physically but never, emotionally or psychologically.
Despite all this, four years later, I still miss her, pine for her affection, long to see her again. I love her. I hate her. I miss her, with those waves crashing down on me so often that I feel I will perish like a ship at sea. The pain of losing her is sometimes unbearable and I don’t want to be living and breathing on this Earth at those times.
But … I am here. Despite everything, I am still here. Somehow, my time was not up yet. And although those waves still frequently come crashing in around my ears, I survive them, all be it bruised and battered emotionally. I recognize her for the controlling, sick, manipulative woman that she was and I hate her for what she did to me.
I love her. I miss her, I want to remember her face which has strangely faded from my memory. I search for her. I need her. I want her back … but do I? Do I, really? Do I want my life smashed against the side of the shipwrecked vessel, time and time again till I am worn away and engulfed by the sea?
NO! I don’t. Not anymore. I have come too far. I do not wish to turn back as often as I’m tempted to. I deserve better. I am stronger than that. I am here. I am me and will remain so until my true time comes. I am a survivor.
7 thoughts on “SURVIVING THE STORM”
I am in awe. How absolutely incredibly brave of you to put this out here. I applaud your strength. I am sorry that therapist did sooo much damage. You are a survivor and I am so happy your still here! XX
Thank you, Carol anne. It helped me to get it out. I’m grateful that you took the time to read it as there was rather a lot of it, but yes, I have survived and I am a survivor xxx
You are a survivor. You can take great strength from that.
Thanks, Mick x
I’m so sorry to hear about the situation you were put in. From the details you give, it sounds as though your therapist rather took advantage of you when you were vulnerable and found pleasure in having a controlling relationship over you. I think you are likely better off without her influence in your life. I can’t help feeling that she was less interested in helping you than in making you psychologically dependent on her.
I hope my comments don’t sound too rude, Ellie. This is my honest opinion based on the facts as you’ve given them, but human relationships are complex things. I realize there may be much more to the story than you have chosen to share, so I apologize if I’m way off the mark.
In any case, I like the attitude you have now: you are a survivor. That seems a very healthy way to think. 🙂
Thanks, Bun. Your comments weren’t rude at all – in fact, I’d say you are spot on, and I appreciate your honesty. I was extremely psychologically dependent on her to the point that I couldn’t make any decisions or barely open my mouth to speak without her permission and ‘guidance’. I recognize it now as being an incredibly abusive situation and am very relieved to be out of it.
I like to think of myself as a survivor although as you will have seen from my blog, I don’t manage to keep up that level of positivity at all times and am guilty of sometimes slipping back into victim mode.
I’m now having good therapy to get over bad therapy which is a bit ironic, but at least, I’m moving in the right direction, this time, Ellie x
That’s good. I’d hate to have overstepped the mark. I think you try to be upbeat and positive, which is great, but I’m not sure anybody can be cheerful all the time. I’m not even sure that would be healthy. All of us have down days. I guess the trick is to keep going on through them (like the waves in that comment) and come out stronger on the other side.