Dear Anita,

Thank you for your reply.

First, I do full trust you to be a safe place for me to express my true voice, even in this public forum.  Absolutely.

Second, I am glad you brought up C-PTSD.  I read a lot about this regularly, and this makes perfect sense to me.  Also, the un-magnifying of the role and traits of others.  I also want to point out the aspect of the role of others.  I often magnify the role of others.  I have mentioned how my mother either talked poorly of others only of their flaws, but on the same token would over magnify anything “good” and quickly elevate them on a pedestal. “oh look what a good friend she was to you, you should be there for her.” Never simply: “oh that is a nice person you have in your life.” It was one or the other.  Magnification in either extreme – neither which are healthy.  This led to over-magnifying the role of others in my life, often the wrong people! Not inner circle.

Dear Anita,

I will do the same, and reflect on my last line in the post – that you just quoted.

Have a good rest of your day – and I shall too.  A smile again for you, just because – and also -for our hard work. 🙂

Dear Anita,

I remember my mother’s soft skin and soft arms.  In fact my grandmother had the same, soft pudgy arms.  I remember enjoying their warmth, being comforted by them.  I remember a nice big toothy smile my mother had, that went all the way up into her eyes and made them crinkle.

I remember going home and my parent’s weren’t home, my grandmother was (my father’s mother this time).  I remember being at school that day and getting a call from the neighbors, that my mother went to the hospital to deliver my sister.  I was so confused and sad and scared.  All I wanted was to go home to my mother; I wanted her to be there – that is all that I remember from that day.

Dear Anita,

I can’t say  I remember this.  I remember this sense of being in school and yearning for her, and then when she would arrive – at recess or lunch, feeling instantly better.  I don’t remember the feeling (as i can not sense it right now), but I know the memory. Maybe only because my mother told it to me.

So no, I do not remember this softness.  I can not access this softness.

Dear Anita,

I am awake, in a comfortable position in my own home.  I know that the task in front of me is huge, and thus I am dedicating my full undivided attention to it.  No distraction.  I don’t get to spend a lot of weekday time at home doing this, but today I have a late start.  Perfect timing.

I think of this next chapter as “intensive workshops” in the sense that I have my work cut out for me, a second job almost.  It is vital to my healing, and to move forward..  That stuck, stagnant junk.  That voice that has been stuck for so long.  What does it say? So much anger and resentment at anyone or anything that “robs my time.” Well it makes more sense now. There is so much crap, for lack of a better term, that has been unattended.  That I must attend to.  Deep down inside I know this, it lingers and it brews inside me.  I know every time I jump to give attention to something/someone else – I go farther and farther from attending to this stuff.  That is why I have been so resentful of giving any time or attention away. I search for reasons and excuses and try to validate it, so not to have guilt.  But today, I know, there is no need for this.  The work in front of me is monumental.  It may not be seen by the eye, but I know it – you know it, and that is simply all that matters.  Life can not simply stop for me to do this work.  But, I can fill important spaces with it, and make it my priority.  I have been, but even more so now.

So where to begin? My voice.  3-D.  Not 2-D, one piece of paper stuck in a book of fiction.

I know this is hard work because I woke up with swarming thoughts, many different memories of my life.  Not so much childhood, but adolescent and forward.  Many scenarios.  This time I analyzed each one.  I had a full memory in some cases, but was it my voice? It was likely not.  So then what is my voice?

This might be the hardest work I have ever done.  It feels so foreign, and perplexing.  I am simply dumbfounded.  But gauging from the energy  inside of me, it is a must to dig deep and start somewhere..  I know you are here to guide me if I don’t know what direction to go in.  I have no idea how to start, for once I am at a loss for words.

My sister and I are going to Aruba at the end of the month, for a sister trip.  It will be fun and relaxing.  Perhaps a vacation is ta place where I can begin.

We went to the Bahamas years ago (and I won’t give myself too much pressure to add details or make this a perfect narrative, I am just beginning and I have a feeling accessing old memories will be easier with time).  My mother sister and I..  We did many trips like this.  This was at Atlantis, it is this huge mega resort that is made like the old ancient Atlantis ruins. My mother wanted to go there as she heard how amazing it was, underwater this and that, huge outdoor slides, a sight to see.  Let’s say it was on her “bucket list.” So off we went.

I am there, I am in residency or medical school or something. An adult, I feel excited to go on a beach vacation, who wouldn’t be..  I know that it isn’t always relaxing with my mom, but I will have a great time with my sister..  Well when we get there, it begins.  They had gone through our suitcases for a search, and she was angry that everything was strewn everywhere.  Then we look at our room, and I think there was something wrong with the toilet.  I go and flush it and the water starts coming up.  Oh my.  My mother says to me something like: “god always making a mess everywhere you go, we just got here.”

Looking back I don’t know what I felt then.  I think something like, “oh man I always screw up, and now she’s going to be mad – but also laced with, wow it isn’t a big deal mom.” That dichotomy, that mixed trapped emotion..  Today I will say: get over it.  We just arrived at this amazing place, so what if your bag was searched – that is TSA.  It isn’t personal to you, you aren’t some ambassador to the US that is above the natural airport process.

And no. No, I am not a child that goes to the toilet and starts messing around and causing a mess.  No, you idiot.  Who would do that? Are you dense? In some ways you raised me to be this big almighty important person and doctor, and yet you quickly forget that this same person would have enough common sense to not make stupid errors.  Well that is your jargon: “you have no common sense.” I believed this..  But I never had the chance to develop half of it, since you and dad parade around the house like crazy monkeys cleaning and perfecting every nook and cranny – screaming at the top of your lungs that no other parent would do this much.  Crazy monkeys.  When would I have had the chance to use some practical “common” knowledge to fix a household item? When? In fact, kids that grow up without being able to do basic things in society – you can’t ridicule them – you have to look at the parents and say, there was a miss on their end.  Parenting means raising well adjusted children. Good parenting at least.

So anyway, we end up switching rooms and starting our day.  Funny how looking back I vaguely remember my sister and I being excited now, like kids, ready to go out.  We were our mothers little children jumping for joy.  We did not do this on purpose per se, but it was natural for us to be excited, and even more so as years went by I am sure as it made my mom “happy” to see us excited.  Out we went.  Beautiful pools and compounds.  We sat down on some chairs.  And of course it began.  Judging each and every person around us.  “how does X person afford to come here? He looks like a construction worker, maybe he is independently wealthy? Oh look at how much food Y ordered, jeez! It is like $10 a water bottle here, imagine all else.”

My sister and I go swim and get into a fun zone.  I look back and think how quickly we were able to brush it off and literally jump in the pool and have some fun.  This leads to the resilience we have to this day.  But, (and I will speak for myself) it also leads to brushing over my own voice and true thoughts and jumping into the next thought or activity.  We embarked on the mega slide, and my mother was on the bottom taking pictures.  I think the largest water slide in the world.  Definitely exhilarating.

When I was done, my mother said: “that’s it?” You guys don’t want to go more.. And I am not sure if that was this day or another, but she pretty much meant: I brought you all the way here to this mega world class place, and you don’t want to appreciate it or take advantage of it?

No mother, I don’t.  I am 20 something years old.  Not 10.  What i need out of this vacation is some down time.  I need mental space to breathe.  If that means laying on the lounge chair for 30 mins, it is that.  If it means go on the slide once to try it, it is that. I am not your 5 year old puppet child to give you a sense of accomplishment.  Why does you ability to feel good about this vacation rely so heavily on this? How much pressure is that? How disgusting.  If that is the case then don’t even cover it up in the guise of a vacation.  You have all these hopes and dreams to travel – so good for you.  But don’t use my sister and I as props to elevate how good of a job you do traveling, or to feel more fulfilled.  No matter what you do, you will never be fulfilled anyway.  So you want me to go up and down the slide 1309 times? Then what if my whole body is chafed? You will call dad and ridicule me.  Oh look at CC using the waterslide like a stupid child, now I have to take her to the doctor – oh what a huge bill and burden.  I can think of million scenarios.  That is not the point, you are a miserable evil being. There is zero room for me to be myself.  I hardly know what myself is, but we all have innate needs.  I am so tired, and all I need is rest.  You don’t respect this at all.  To this you say: rest! who brings their daughters on this kind of vacation! this didn’t even happen because my voice didn’t speak up to say this is what I needed, as I convinced myself I didn’t.  I convinced myself I can keep on pushing.

You tired me out so much, wrung every ounce of energy from me.  All under the guise of being a super mom and showing her daughters the bestest times.  Such manipulative vindictive behavior.

I will leave it at that for now…and continue after your reply.  I am not sure if  I “used my voice” at all here…perhaps you will have to guide me some.

Dear Anita,

i guess I never vocalized this. I have with my sister often, but perhaps not in writing here.

my mother is a fraud. She used hysteria to scare us. Exclaiming she would die if we didn’t do This or that. Imagine a young girl – scAred beyond belief that her mother would take such a drastic measure! My goodness, what I do must me important then!

Thus I was tricked. Tricked into believing that every action of mine reflected onto her and thus has to satisfy her. For nothing more than the “fact” that she had a bad life and deserved better now. She fed me lies from birth and of course I believed them – it was my mother.

She threatened me way into adulthood and used this as a way to control me even then, far later than one would imagine.

I used to believe it until then. Seeing some of it pan out – my extended family comings after me etc .

but – and a huge but –

when I truly saw the reality of who she is. A fraud, a liar. A work of fiction – that is when I said enough. That is when I decided to go no contact. This is when it all made sense, every effort of mine would be in vain from now and forever. But my future children would be harmed beyond belief as well. I agree with all of that inside. And I know that every single thing is a lie.  I Was assured in my decision and have never gone back, because I never took it lightly, when I decided to go no contact I saw her for who she truly was.

What’s left is residual teachings from her voice, yet I never truly think that anything that she has taught me or my sister is truly the way to see the world

Dear Anita,

You are right, something needs to be done right here.  In fact, after I posted above about my sister’s question – I thought it would be a good idea to actually practice in the present – what my voice is.  Whatever comes to mind.  Thinking I have been doing this all along – but it was prior to the fact of the information we have now.

Living in 2-D, surviving, but not living.  2-D is devoid of that softness, of that heart.  That is why it often feels exhuasting, robotic, without an off switch, and never able to “sigh relief.” As it is 2-D.  Stuck in someone else’s story, just a page in a book – stuck.  Stuck for sure.

2 ways to do it, past or present.  I am having trouble with the past, or even mustering up any memory of the Disney world story at this moment.  Thus, I will start with the present if that is okay.  I will just type what comes….

Around the time of your reply, the long monumental one – I got a text from, yes you guessed it: S.  It said “hey how was your weekend?”

What did I feel? Annoyed.  I felt this feeling of annoyance of not wanting to take any attention away from the hard work I am doing with Anita today. Then I thought, where is this ROAR coming from? 1) slight annoyance at her as she is always available to chat about nonsense, and the only friend of mine that seems to have time like this, leading me to feel guilty for not replying 2) annoyance at myself for taking even a moment away from what is important from me 3) not replying but wondering if it is rude -but knowing it is not – she is focused on her world, so why can’t I be focused on mine?

So the point of this is, what is my voice saying?

My voice is saying this Anita: I am sick and tired of being close to people.  I was so “close” as in enmeshed, entrenched, enveloped in my mother’s story that  I want to be free.  Free of any burden to any people.  This  is why I find myself getting irritated so easily but others.  Yes, it is multifactorial – but at this very moment, this is key.  I do not want to have any responsibility to anyone but my own self.  And I don’t truly – I don’t have children.  But, living in my mother’s story, I must act in a way in which I am not those “ungrateful selfish people who don’t tend to others, only to my own self – selfish and ungrateful, forgetting where they came from and who was there for them.”

This isn’t about friends.  I have friends that I don’t have to keep up with.  A friend in LA with 3 kids and a full time job, keeping her head above water.  When we chat its great, and no pressure in between.  That is it.  Mature – no pressure.

I am maturing now, and don’t need any pressure.  My voice is that I am changed.  I am no longer the identity people once thought of.  S messages me so much, because old CC was always available to chat on any topic.  Well S may still be, CC is not.  In fact she never had that mental energy before to begin with – she just forced herself.

Perhaps seeing that text reminded me of how much I have forced myself to multi task and put my true needs second.  Never knowing my voice.

You are right, that picture of mine, it isn’t soft and carefree.  It is hard and stern.  Of course.  I would say before, it was after a long day of work with patients.  But it is more than that.  The ROAR is stuck inside, and especially when that voice has no space to develop – when CC is attending to others – the ROAR gets louder.  This is why I had such a difficult summer, attending to other peoples weddings, London trip, stupid cousin and her boy troubles.

I didn’t speak with my voice did I? Yes, I spoke a lot, a ton, too much in many cases (like with the cousin) but whose voice was it? Not mine. It was from the page stuck in the book. Speaking narratives from an old story.

My voice is saying  this.

Every day I dream of being in a place that is far from here.  Where it is just me, my husband, and my dog.  I don’t know where yet, but I know it will be a place where we don’t know many.  Moving geographically doesn’t change anything.  As even being here, I don’t interact with too many people like before.  But there are more pressures.  There are more events.  There is family (his family).  And I look forward to less of all that. I truly do.  Feels good to admit it.

I dream of a day, a Sunday, where we can choose whatever we want to do – and wait – the following Sunday as well – and the following.  Imagine, a whole month in which we can do this.  How freeing.

I dream of a time in which my husband has this room to breathe so to speak, and I can continue mine (as I have already started obtaining some of this room while here).

My voice says: no more.

No I am not interested in doing anything more.

I chuckle at the idea of sitting on the couch, maybe a window open and saying to my husband – what do you want to do today? and we feel no pressure at all…