Wednesday, March 19, 2014

Damage that can happen in your subconscious although consciously you never thought it would.

First of all, things have been great as far as the "no contact".   Not a peep either directly, indirectly, or via the internet.  No weird strangers contacting me (who know absolutely nothing about me) asking me to comment on something my donors have said.   No pleas from "family members" via third parties to put myself out there and make myself vulnerable so their buddies (my donor(s)) feel good (it's never any concern about me).

Then I was thinking of the poems I used to write my pets when they died.   I thought about this, because it linked to the more recent posts to "family members" dying, and that made me think of other grief.   Then I thought why didn't I write poems for Mustache, Leon, Jackie, Stormy, and Jazz.   And this made me immediately think of something my NM blogged about how I apparently like to write sappy poems.

I did not even realize this was subconsciously affecting me.   Granted I am no artist with words, I know that.   This is not why I wrote these memorials to my pets (and a couple of love poems to my husband).   It was to somehow represent something that I was feeling inside in that moment.   Because NM could not accept that I was no longer her victim, she needed to take a mean spirited shot at me.   And I knew that, but thought at the time this would never affect me.

Now I wonder where those poems are and if they have been saved.   It's like that day that side of me just shut down for someone I had decided some time ago was not worth my while.   Certainly not worth these examples of emotional abuse that was her side of our relationship!

Others have said it's not that ONE thing.   It's the constant barrage of things.   I for one am so glad that barrage has stopped, so I can continue to get my feet under me and reclaim myself.   I love the way those goofy poems make me feel now, remembering how I felt then.   So now I will be working on memorials to my other lost pets.

Try not to let people diminish those parts of you.   It's hard because sometimes you do not know it happened until much much later, as it happens subconsciously.

1 comment:

mulderfan said...

Not nearly in the same realm as expressing feelings through poetry, but similar in that my NM's opinion still played a part in my life: growing up she always told me I had ugly hair; "lank", fine and "too bloody straight". For most of my life I kept it extremely short and made little or no effort to style it. NF would "compliment" me by telling me I looked like a man. One day back in September as I looked in the mirror, as usual, a thought passed through my mind about how ugly my hair was then I voiced it aloud to my daughter, who suggested I grow it long.
I've always been cursed with hair that grows extremely fast, so within a couple of months I had longer hair with an attractive white streak at the front and soft natural waves. Compliments came from every quarter, even strangers in stores would tell me how beautiful my hair looked.
Right now, I have medium length, wavy hair that I love.
A few months into this transformation, the voice of doubt crept into my head and I ask myself out loud, "Whose voice is this?" The answer was easy: It was my mother's voice. I cried when I realized all the things I'd allowed myself to miss out on by listening to my mother's negative voice.
When the voice of doubt and negativity speaks in your head, ask yourself whose voice it is and go back to writing your poems. Even if they are "sappy", which I very much doubt, they're YOURS. Don't let your mother's voice steal them from you.