When its summer time, I get too lazy to do much. I’m pretty sure it’s because of the heat. I hate hot. Anything hot. But because I survived sexual abuse I am never really sure what I feel is a straight forward feeling. There are plenty of other things that could be contributing to my confusion.
I could be lazy cause of birth issues. Maybe the forceps were squeezed too tight. Or I could be mistaking feeling lazy when I really feel weirdness about being born, unclaimed by my father. It could be depression I am feeling because I have had a particular experience of abuse emerge from my subconscious. When that happens I often freeze, emotionally and physically, and even mentally. Or I could just be filled with apprehension, because I dread an upcoming family event, where I have to deal with family who knew about the abuse. It could be that being raped, molested, prostituted by him to his friends and I complied to protect my younger siblings are making me feel warped. When I factor all these abuse complications into my psyche, I sometimes, just feel sorry for myself. Could that be what I am labeling as lazy?
It could be resistance, because I am getting older, turning 53. Maybe I am unemployed because I am lazy not because of age discrimination the workplace. I could afraid of dying, because my aging process is becoming apparent, even without my glasses. Maybe I just don’t have one drop of ambition, now that I am unable to drink as much coffee as I once did. Or it could be something else.
There are times, when I don’t want to think about what happened. I just want to go about my business as if those things didn’t happen. That somehow, in a miracle I fantasize about, I am not fundamentally flawed and damaged. I am just like everyone else where I could just be unemployed, getting older, or maybe just whiney about the weather. I get to think I am lazy cause it’s hot. I hate hot. I hate sticky, sweaty, overheated, not wanting to move hot. Feeling can be straightforward even when being a survivor of childhood abuse.
Last Friday night, I went to bed crying because I was feeling humiliated. Plain, simple, humiliated because I didn’t have a job and hated having to ask my husband for money to cover my expenses. It was difficult at first, for me to know exactly what I was feeling. It helped me when I asked him to imagine the tables were turned. He couldn’t pay his way and needed to get money from me to cover his expenses. Could he describe how he felt, and after a lengthy conversation, I was able to understand how feeling humiliated can be a ordinary human experience. Not something from my childhood experiences.
I think this is a sign of emotional healing, in that, every feeling doesn’t get attributed by me as stemming from abuse. So it can be that I am lazy, it is summer, I hate hot and I hate feeling humiliated because I can’t afford to cover my own responsibilities. And I survived horrific childhood sexual abuse. I can know how and what I feel.