Therapy?

So, yes, I started this blog to write about life as a mom and grad school and gardening but somehow it has morphed at times into my own personal journal. Tonight I am afraid if I don't write then I will forget the power of this moment, forget how painful and yet insightful this time of my life is.

With my history, I have certainly been able to recognize that there is pain and hurt but I always thought I just "got over it". I would work with clients who were paralyzed by depression and fear and thank God that I wasn't like that.

Then, second year of grad school hit and more and more . . . I see where my pain and my own scars are. I was considering doing some therapy with my prior therapist who I saw after my divorce. It's been three years since I saw her, and gave her a call. To make a long story short, I won't be seeing her again, but that isn't want got me. When we were talking about my history she said to me something that seems so obvious yet at the same time something that I just never "Got" before.

She spoke of my relationship with my mother and said that my mom was clearly borderline . . . . which is something that I have really recognized for awhile but not something that I necessarily thought somebody else woudl see. . . then she talked about how I had lived a life as a child where my feelings were always invalidated, a life where my relationships were never secure, and that now as an adult, I repeat those patterns in my relationships with others . . . my feelings are invalidated and do not matter. I choose partners that are not secure and then I sit and wonder why I am emotionally a wreck.

Ok, so . . . Captain Obvious I am not . . . I never made that connection, even in all the years of working with clients in crisis (oh so much easier to work on somebody else then to look at yourself). I never really stopped to look at the parallells between my serious relationships and the relationship with my mom. It seems so obvious I don't even know what to think about it.

This weekend I was thinking about how many times my mom would say that I got something in life because I was spoiled, or because I was lucky. When I was small I went with her to feed the elderly at a local church, when we left I told her how happy I was that they liked me (I had been very scared of them walking in). Mom looked at me and said "they only like you because your my daughter". nice. I remember being so sad, so very sad that they didn't really like me for me, but for her.

That pattern has played out so many times through my life. My kids were only good because she was around to help. I only had a nice home when I was married because of David. I only graduated college because she helped me. Never, once, ever have I done anything good simply because I worked hard, applied myself and stuck to it. Not in her eyes anyway. So, as a child growing up, I grew to realize that I was a person who wasn't good enough. I never worked hard enough, I never was smart enough, never planned well enough. Never, ever good enough.

When I would have a need, that was always secondary. It wasn't important to have new clothing for school . . . we could get hand me downs. It wasn't important to be safe at home, if somebody wanted to stay over I slept on the floor. It didn't matter if I was cold and walkign the streets alone at 12, because she was "finding herself" in the bar. It didn't matter that I was pregnant at 13 by her boyfriend, because it was easier for her to pretend it didnt matter. . . and from her, I learned that I didn't matter. I carried that feeling of not mattering through a rough marriage, where I became a doormat. I gave up having a vehicle, a telephone, friends, relationships . .. . I gave it all up because I had learned so very well, that my feelings just did not matter, and what was important was to hold somebody elses feelings as a priority.

I don't even know what to think now, with this knowledge. Though it seems so simple, it is revolutionary to me. It just . . .. opens my mind to so much. I want to think, I want to learn, I want to understand. I really really want to nurture myself, to care for the person that never has been cared for before. I want to care for my body both physical and emotional. I want to walk in peace with myself and know . . . know that I am ok. I want to learn to love myself, as cliche as that sounds . . . . I really really want to learn that I am alright. How do I do that? I don't know . . . .

how can I feel so sad and relieved at the same time?