by Band Back Together | Mar 23, 2016 | Abandonment, Anger, Loneliness, Parent Loss, Therapy |
This is my first post for Band Back Together. It’s been really interesting reading all of your stories. I feel the sense of community in these posts.
I was separated from my mother at the very early age of around three or four.
Recently, I have noticed it is affecting my relationships with a lot of people in my life, including my fiance. I’ve noticed when I am away from her, I rage and become angry. I always seem to look for connections with other people, so I am not alone. I try to either keep myself busy, or I surround myself with other people so that I don’t have to be alone.
I am currently seeking therapy for my abandonment issues.
I would really appreciate some feedback from other people who deal with similar issues.
by Band Back Together | Mar 22, 2016 | Abortion, Abortion Recovery, Adoption, Adult Adoptees, Anger, Anxiety, Family, Fear, Forgiveness, How To Help A Friend With Infertility, In Vitro Fertilization, Infertility, IUI, Medical Mystery Tour, Stress, Trauma |
When I was 15, I had terrible ovarian cysts so my doctor put me on birth control. Not that I needed it – I wasn’t sexually active. It was great. No cysts. When I was about 19, I decided to go off the pill. I was taking them but didn’t need them as I still wasn’t sexually active. I knew it couldn’t be great for me so I just stopped taking them.
And then, I never got another period.
After about a year, I went back to my gynecologist and asked about it, whether it was strange or not. He said it WAS very strange and that it did happen occasionally. I may never get another period and may, in fact, be infertile. He told me this very solemnly and with great empathy. He was a good man.
But me, well, uh, I was ECSTATIC! Infertile? Please. Thank you, god. I was never the kid who planned the wedding and the babies and the names. I had three younger siblings I didn’t really care anything about (now I do). I loved to party and this was before the HIV/AIDS epidemic. (YEAH..I know, I said it. This was mid to late 70′s. Figure out how old I am)
I was trying to be an actor and was living a very vagabondish life. I worked about 10 different jobs so I could live and enjoy my life and sexuality. And then one day I felt different. I went to the clinic and yes, I was pregnant. This was after not using birth control for 6 or 7 years. It was a very easy decision for me to make and I had an abortion. I have never regretted that decision.
I lived my life. I used birth control (not the pill, the sponge… remember the Seinfeld episode when Elaine hoards them?)
And then I met Tom. We were friends, fell in love and got married. I realized that, in fact, I did want to have a family with him and that it was going to be wonderful. My life and expectations were turned upside down by the love I felt for Tom and it was so exciting and fun. We were older and after a year of trying, we started dealing with infertility. I was fine. Tom’s motility was low. No boxers or hot tubs. My eggs were a little old. We did inseminations. (Did any of you ever ALMOST make love in the quiet room with your legs in stirrups? To make it more personal? I KNOW you did!)
About a year later, during an insemination break, I became pregnant. There were little lines on the test and it was so exciting! We told everyone. It was amazing. We went to check in and have an ultrasound and hear the heartbeat and well, you all know… there wasn’t one. It was ectopic. I sobbed as they took me in for my D&C because I wanted this baby that I never wanted. This was a little “me and Tom.” It was heartbreaking for both of us.
The next step was IVF. I became a science experiment. I’m not sure there are enough words to convey how much I hated the process. I was going crazy from the hormones, the daily shots of Lupron and the shots Tom gave me (though, I think he got a little pleasure from it). I had eggs harvested and there were a lot. Not many were viable though. There were enough for a transfer and enough to freeze for the next baby.
So we followed protocol and did everything right. There was no baby. It was heartbreaking. Because for the faintest minute, they thought there was a baby… but no, there wasn’t.
We did it once. That’s all we needed. I looked at Tom and said I didn’t want to be a science experiment anymore. I wanted to be a mom and I was already 38 years old. We moved on to adoption. We were together on this decision. He didn’t need a clone and neither did I.
I am so grateful I was with Tom because someone else may not have seen it that way. And that would have been OK but a problem for us. And with Tom it was not a problem. We moved together to the adoption process and that will be my next post.
Because that was a barrel of laughs, too!
by Band Back Together | Mar 21, 2016 | Coping With Losing A Partner, Grief, Love |
Hi everyone.
I feel strange saying what I’m about to be saying. I feel my late girlfriend’s body on top of me.
Yes, you read that right. I literally physically feel my girlfriend, even though she is no more.
Doctors haven’t been able to help me with this.
It started about six months ago. She was taken away from me in a car accident. Three days later, I was in no shape to do anything or move anywhere, and I suddenly felt her. I felt her head on my chest, her arms hugging me really tight, her feet on top of my feet.
She loved doing this. If there ever was such a thing, this was our thing. I know this was the same sensation because I could feel her hair poking my chin, like it always did. She didn’t like long hair, so she would cut it really short, and it would poke me irritatingly in my chin when she hugged me like this.
The funny thing is, I sometimes did not hug her back. Just. Just because I was irritated about something or the other. I know she didn’t like it when I didn’t, but she put up with me.
And now, I feel her arms, her feet, her prickly hair, just like before. But she’s not there.
I know she’s not there but I feel it so strongly! It comes and goes, but when it’s there, it’s like she’s back. I can see there is nothing but air in front of me, but she is the air around me. I hug the air back, and it all feels real.
I am left with so much conflict about this. On the one hand, I am glad to have her back in whatever way. But in another way, I am just grieving all the time. Because of this, I just break down and talk to her. I tell her I love her and how much I miss her. But I feel like her soul is attached to me, and I’d like to free her soul.
I miss Ragini. I just wish I knew what to do with her ghost.
by Band Back Together | Mar 15, 2016 | Abuse, Adult Bullying, Child Loss, Child Neglect, Domestic Abuse, Economic Abuse, Emotional Abuse, Munchausen By Proxy Syndrome, Psychological Manipulation |
After going through what was quite possibly the most difficult year I’ve had so far, Things are finally settling down.
I’ve lost a child, was denied access to a child and have fought all year through to get it back.
I faced some of the most horrific gas lighting abuse imaginable, I work in a position of trust and have done so for many years and my former abuser decided that they would try and get me fired with some of the worst false accusations you could imagine.
I’m now at a point where child protection services no longer believe my former abuser and have some solid boundaries in place to protect myself.
They tried so hard to pretend they were the victim whilst I watched them send constant mixed messages, cheat on me, control every aspect of my hard earned wages, my professional life and personal life alike, and I watched my friends disappear everyday, then when enough of my support had gone they turned on my family. They were constantly redirecting the blame for everything onto me and making me feel responsible for every bad situation they created by abusing others as well.
The final straw was when I recognized that they were trying to set me up to make the biggest move of gas lighting abuse imaginable, I’ll be the first to admit that it didn’t go as far as accusing me of Satan worship or cults where children were sacrificed, but it got pretty close and was all to try and control and limit my access to my child.
I then identified defining factors of Munchhausen by proxy in their behavior and had no choice but to try and protect my child as best as I could whilst fighting off these organizations that she used to further victimize me.
My child was ill, in accident and emergency or was at emergency appointments almost every week. I noticed that the universal factor was that my former abuser would always press for me to have contact with HER, not my child. When I tried to be there for my child without seeing them even under the supervision of medical professionals, I was told that it’s unacceptable and I have to see my former abuser.
I am still clearing up the shrapnel in my life but it’s back.
MY LIFE.
I’ve been studying the past year to help real victims of domestic violence as a McKensies friend, as well as help both mothers and fathers hold onto their children when courts become involved, offer practical and emotional support for the men women and children whilst maintaining my own contact with my child and jumping through those hoops.
I’m in a fairly successful band and still retain my job in a position of trust, I’ve trained as a volunteer children’s speech therapist and rebuilt all of those broken bridges from my friends and family and I’ve brushed up on my cooking skills a great deal, and I still donate blood as often as possible.
If I had tried any of this over the past years during my victimization I would of crumbled and broke under the pressure. But now, now I can do all of this with an ease that belies my former victimization. Now it’s all as natural as breathing to me.
I received a shock on valentines day, It was an act that helped me realize how far I’ve come and how much stronger I am.
My former abuser sent me a valentines card…….
Are they sure about that?
I suspect that they have either the final screw has come loose, lost the ability to exert their manipulation of others and want to try again with me, or want to try and set me up again.
Well, Not Gonna Happen.
I did not build all of this to watch them break it again.
Not this time.
Find someone else to fall victim to you’re disillusion, faux perception and toxic miasma of a personality because I am free.
Thank you to The Band and Aunt Becky
I’m sorry for my silence since my last post I’ve just been so busy.
Until next time,
Stay strong all of you
by Band Back Together | Mar 14, 2016 | Adult Child Loss, Anger, Depression, Help For Grief And Grieving, Loving An Addict, Prescription Drug Abuse |
There are days when I sit and think about my son’s addiction. I think about everything I did do, didn’t do or should have done. I start to disassemble his entire journey in my mind trying to find the missing piece. That piece that somehow I overlooked during our struggle for recovery. You see, my son had the worst outcome. The one every parent dreads but would never allow the thought to even cross their lips. My son overdosed and died of the very pills he was given to manage his post op pain.
His addiction snuck up on us like a thief in the night. Carefully and quietly taking us by surprise. Like the elephant in the room, we all knew there was a problem but no one had the guts to say the words. I called it our dirty little secret. Keeping it safe and sound between me and my addict son. Protecting both of us from the ugliness of the stigma attached to this most misunderstood disease. We had brief periods when we were given a glimpse of normal, tricking us into believing the demons had lost their grip and moved on. Then reality would hit as my son returned to his world of darkness and chaos dragging me along for the ride of my life.
His addiction consumed me as I struggled to find places where he would stay safe and I would get a much needed break from the endless worry constantly dancing in my mind. Finding the right fit of rehab was like finding a rose in six feet of snow. I fought to get him in and he fought to get out. Never feeling like the help and support he needed was available wherever he was staying at the time. I’ve learned that helping the addict is like matching fingerprints. Almost impossible. Hindsight is such a great gift if only it arrived before things were said and done, people were trusted and money was wasted on places that made promises that could never be kept.
There are days I feel like I failed him. After all as mothers our job is to keep our children safe. I have a double whammy. I’m not just a mom but also a nurse, a fixer. The very idea that I could not fix my son horrifies me. I allowed myself the sick illusion that I was in control of his addiction and I had the power to fix him. Even when that little voice of reason resonated through my brain, and was echoed by close friends and family, “you didn’t cause it and you can’t cure it” I still continued to beat myself up dissecting every fight, every rehab, tough love, no love or tons of love that we lived during his battle. Being the lone survivor of my sons addiction is a life sentence. I’m still shocked that he is gone. It feels like the beginning of my end. I have become my own personal punching bag. I have a million reasons why his death is my fault. I should have… begins my sentence when close friends try to set me straight.
There is nothing that can change my mind. I should have been able to save him. I had years of practice. So now my painful reality is every parents nightmare. Now, I must figure out a way to go on without him. I have become a sounding board for other mothers living the nightmare of addiction. In the midst of my struggle for survival and my fighting back at the broken system, I have made many contacts. By channeling my anger to make a difference I have stumbled upon people who have started the walk of grief before I joined this club. Together we find strength and hope that the bigger we grow and the louder we become the harder we will be to ignore. Parents whose prior struggle was to save their children. Working together to fix the breaks in the system we have come to know too well. A system that fought us when we were begging for help, a system that turned its back on a generation of addicts pleading for their lives. My son’s struggle has ended. Mine has begun. Everyday is a struggle. Trying to ease the pain that grips my heart and fighting to find joy in a world that has turned upside down. My new normal is just that, so new that even I have trouble adjusting. I pray for acceptance. I pray for peace. Until then I survive one day at a time.
