I’ve been really sad since therapy Friday. This is the fallout from the memory I talked about there. It’s odd because really I didn’t think I went into it much, but it was enough that yesterday I mostly spent lying down, trying to feel and get through whatever it is, and today also pretty sad and not doing well. Just from a memory of swimming. Maybe the swimming is a cover memory, something your brain puts over top of an upsetting memory. Or maybe this incident did happen on holiday when I was on a beach. We used to take vacations on beaches when I was a young child.
I remember playing, wrestling or roughhousing with someone, and then the badness takes over and I can’t remember, I can just feel. And the feeling is of disgust and upset and then of not being real, with some anger thrown in also.
I don’t want to cook today, but then I do cook eggs for lunch, and then I can’t judge how much to eat, as I’m eating on command, instead of naturally, so I eat too much and then feel bad.
I don’t want to go out, though I do force myself out to buy coffee at noon, and some vegetables. I come home and it’s too difficult to put the veggies away, so I just leave them in the bag and go and lie down again. I let the kid write an email to Ron, and in the process find out what the kid is thinking. I don’t send the email, but it’s interesting what she has to say. It’s not about the memory, as it isn’t hers, but letting her write cheers her up, so I also get a bit of benefit.
I try and let the memory happen again, and it kind of does, but it doesn’t become clearer. I’m just upset and sad and disgusted and choking.
I buy myself a book I want to read, and it is interesting, so I read a bit. The kid wants to paint her toenails as we bought green polish, so I do that. A bit of kid energy emerges, a bit of toenail happiness. Now I’m eating chocolate and drinking wine instead of having dinner – it is too much to try and cook and eat dinner, I just can’t do it at all.
The kid would like to phone people, but I don’t want to, so I don’t.
And I feel spectacularly unattractive. That happens to me sometimes. I am here alone, so what does my appearance matter? But it does matter, as I don’t have a date I suppose. Not that I could go on one if I did have it, feeling like this. I never was a babe, and physical attractiveness is at the low end of the scale. But then, there are men also who are not especially fantastic looking, who still go on dates. I am trying to make peace with my body. My body is not bad actually, I’m not fat, but my face is a bit scarred and the features are not symmetrical, and my chin recedes somewhat. Main problem is the chin I’d say, though I used to think it was the nose. So what. So I have a chin that recedes. It’s OK. There are worse things.
I think being abused as a child didn’t do my self-esteem any favours. Abuse makes you feel ugly and worthless in so many many ways. Unworthy of another human, it seems, sometimes. Defective and flawed and even monstrous. A monstrous person. Hmmm…..I don’t think so. Shy, yes. Sad, yes. Angry, often. But monstrous? No, probably not. I do not abuse. Not even internal parts, now I know about them. I try and be kind. Why should I feel monstrous?