Am I strong enough?

I cannot describe what it’s like to feel so powerless and out of control.  It is hard not to resort to old habits and start hiding again.  Hiding behind the other Bella.  Putting on a brave face and a big smile and just keeping it all locked away inside.  Who would really know?  I know that I can fool everyone around me, but the question is, can I fool myself?

And of course that is the crux of it all.  Deep down inside, I know I can just become the other Bella again and go about my life as though none of this has happened.  But I also know that one way or another it will all eventually come bubbling back to the surface again.  And am I strong enough to cope with that once more?

It is just so demoralising knowing that whichever way I turn, it is going to be a struggle.  And I doubt myself.  Hell, I truly believe I am worthless anyway, so why would I think that I can cope?

I am doing all the right things at the moment, well almost and it just seems to be getting harder and harder.  Over and over again I am turning to the other Bella to get me through the day.  When I have to walk out of my flat, when I have to walk into the office and face my colleagues, when I have to walk down the street, fearing that everyone can see the real, dirty me.  When I have to stand in front of a group of strangers, praying that I can fool them into believing that I am something I believe I am not.  How can I expect people to accept it, when I cannot accept it myself?

I truly wish that I could believe in myself, but it is just not possible right now.  And I am not entirely sure that it will ever come to pass.  I just cannot see that I will ever get to the point where I believe in me.

But still, I am determined to persevere for now.  I have joined a local Support Group for Adult Survivors of Child Sexual Abuse.  I’ve only attended one meeting so far, but I can’t really say that it helped.

If anything, I came away feeling worse.  The people at that meeting had been through so much more than me.  Not only had those that spoke been Sexually Abused as children, but they had also been physically and emotionally abuse.  Some of them came from broken homes, some had even been in foster care.  Many did not have any supportive family members.  And yet there they were – strong and apparently coping with it!  What did that say about me?  

My self esteem plummeted, lower than ever and the nightmares only seemed to worsen.  I started wondering whether to carry on or whether to just give up hope.  Surely if I was so weak I did not deserve to go on?  But there was still the hope that somehow I could find a way to believe in myself.

Then I had another hurdle to get over.  My evaluation with the Mental Health team.  I was terrified.  What would they ask me?  What would they say?  What would they think of me?  Would they think me weak?  I should have believed in them.  They were supportive and insightful, recognising things in me that others never notice.  They don’t notice them because I hide them, because I know what to say to throw people off the scent.

Isn’t it strange how people believe so many different things, attach certain values to various signs and symptoms, but don’t seem to realise that I know exactly what they believe and precisely how to fool them.

Forgive me for saying this, but there was one thing that I decided when I started this blog – to be honest about what I think, feel and do. 

And one of those things that has become a fundamental part of me is my escape plan.

I call it my security blanket.

Should things reach the point where I know that I can’t carry on anymore, I have the security of knowing that my exit strategy is all in place.  As foolproof as I can make it, with hopefully minimal impact on those around me.  And of course, my research has shown that there is a commonly held belief that if you talk about it, people believe that you won’t do it. 

Maybe I won’t.  Maybe it is just something I need to have right there.  As I said earlier, my security blanket. 

But back to my evaluation.  Apparently I have anger issues.  Really?  Imagine that!  I don’t mean that in a nasty way, but surely it is to be expected!  My cousin stole my childhood and destroyed my life.  I have struggled for 33 years trying to come to terms with it all and went as far as to try to take my own life!  I’d say I have anger issues!

But anger management?  Correct me if I am wrong, but surely I need to deal with the issues that are causing the anger?  I suppose I just have to accept that I am not an expert and they are.  So anger management classes it is.

They are also sending me on for a full Psychiatric Evaluation, in the hopes that the Psyche team will take on my case.  This would then open up doors for me to receive Cognitive Behavioural Therapy, which would deal with the underlying issues. 

Oh how wonderful it is to me!  Not!  As usual, I don’t quite fit into the usual boxes and everything is going to be complicated.  I don’t self-harm, I don’t have drug or alcohol problems.  I hold down a full-time job and have my sons and friends to support me.  I suppose I should feel grateful, but all I feel is guilty.