Personality Types
Jun. 1st, 2024 02:05 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
senashentaThere is a type of personality called a Grievance Collector, where the person amasses slights against themselves, real or perceived, and kind of simmers over them until they boil over, or, alternatively, uses them to gain sympathy from friends, family and co-workers.
I don't think I'm one of those. But I know I do have trouble processing and moving past trauma. Things that happened to me years and years ago, sometimes DECADES ago, are still fresh and new and painful in me, and I know things that happened more recently will be with me for a long, long time. It's a horrible feeling.
It's not that I WANT to keep those memories, that trauma, the Gods know my life would be infinitely easier if I could just move on, but it's like it gets stuck up in my brain and just won't go away no matter what I do.
The other day I was thinking about when I lived with Dad and Lois, briefly, about 20 years ago. I don't know why, what brought the memories up, but I was.
The last day I was there, I woke up to Dad and Lois having a SCREAMING argument, wherein Lois proceeded to blame all the problems in their relationship on me living there. I already had boxes in my room because I was already planning to move back home to Mom's place since my job in Georgetown wasn't working out, and I immediately started packing, sobbing the entire time. Dad came up and gave me $20 to take a cab to work because I had a shift later that day, and I didn't tell him I was already planning to call Mom to come get me ASAP. I tried calling Mom, but my brother answered the phone and told me she had gone to the salon to get her hair done. At the time this was a three-hour affair so I desperately told him, still crying, that he needed to get her to call me as soon as she got home. I continued packing. Dad went to work and a while later he called to ask when I was leaving for work, and I finally told him that I was leaving. He broke down and cried and apologized. It's the only time I've ever heard my Dad cry and I will never forget it. He offered to call my work and tell them that I wouldn't be in. After we hung up I tried calling Mom again and she still wasn't home. Lois went out. I continued packing. Finally Mom called back and I sobbed out the entire debacle to her and she agreed to come get me right then, but it's a two hour drive between Orillia and Georgetown so I still had to sit around in that room, terrified that Lois would come home before Mom swooped in to save me, and I would have to confront her over everything. Thankfully that didn't happen and when Mom got there we threw all the essentials (including Neko) into the car and headed out. We stopped at my work so I could turn in my employee card and pay for some books that I had on hold in the back and then we were gone.
Did I mention this was on December 23rd? Yeah.
I cried the whole way home and for probably a month after. Two days later Dad came up with the rest of my stuff and the Christmas presents he and Lois had bought for me and it was terrible and awkward and just no good in general.
And even though my relationship with Dad and my relationship with Lois are both good again, that DAY, that MOMENT IN TIME still haunts me. I cried just typing this out. And it was two decades ago.
I don't know why I can't move on when bad things happen to me. Trauma just sticks to me like a burr and I have no clue what to do about it.
I know I probably need therapy. Like. A TON of therapy. But I have this innate fear of therapy and therapists, going to therapy just compounds the trauma and makes it that much worse. So it's this horrible catch-22 where I need the therapy to get over the trauma but the therapy causes more trauma, which makes me need more therapy and so on.
And yeah. I just... wish I had a normal brain. That would make life so much easier.
I don't think I'm one of those. But I know I do have trouble processing and moving past trauma. Things that happened to me years and years ago, sometimes DECADES ago, are still fresh and new and painful in me, and I know things that happened more recently will be with me for a long, long time. It's a horrible feeling.
It's not that I WANT to keep those memories, that trauma, the Gods know my life would be infinitely easier if I could just move on, but it's like it gets stuck up in my brain and just won't go away no matter what I do.
The other day I was thinking about when I lived with Dad and Lois, briefly, about 20 years ago. I don't know why, what brought the memories up, but I was.
The last day I was there, I woke up to Dad and Lois having a SCREAMING argument, wherein Lois proceeded to blame all the problems in their relationship on me living there. I already had boxes in my room because I was already planning to move back home to Mom's place since my job in Georgetown wasn't working out, and I immediately started packing, sobbing the entire time. Dad came up and gave me $20 to take a cab to work because I had a shift later that day, and I didn't tell him I was already planning to call Mom to come get me ASAP. I tried calling Mom, but my brother answered the phone and told me she had gone to the salon to get her hair done. At the time this was a three-hour affair so I desperately told him, still crying, that he needed to get her to call me as soon as she got home. I continued packing. Dad went to work and a while later he called to ask when I was leaving for work, and I finally told him that I was leaving. He broke down and cried and apologized. It's the only time I've ever heard my Dad cry and I will never forget it. He offered to call my work and tell them that I wouldn't be in. After we hung up I tried calling Mom again and she still wasn't home. Lois went out. I continued packing. Finally Mom called back and I sobbed out the entire debacle to her and she agreed to come get me right then, but it's a two hour drive between Orillia and Georgetown so I still had to sit around in that room, terrified that Lois would come home before Mom swooped in to save me, and I would have to confront her over everything. Thankfully that didn't happen and when Mom got there we threw all the essentials (including Neko) into the car and headed out. We stopped at my work so I could turn in my employee card and pay for some books that I had on hold in the back and then we were gone.
Did I mention this was on December 23rd? Yeah.
I cried the whole way home and for probably a month after. Two days later Dad came up with the rest of my stuff and the Christmas presents he and Lois had bought for me and it was terrible and awkward and just no good in general.
And even though my relationship with Dad and my relationship with Lois are both good again, that DAY, that MOMENT IN TIME still haunts me. I cried just typing this out. And it was two decades ago.
I don't know why I can't move on when bad things happen to me. Trauma just sticks to me like a burr and I have no clue what to do about it.
I know I probably need therapy. Like. A TON of therapy. But I have this innate fear of therapy and therapists, going to therapy just compounds the trauma and makes it that much worse. So it's this horrible catch-22 where I need the therapy to get over the trauma but the therapy causes more trauma, which makes me need more therapy and so on.
And yeah. I just... wish I had a normal brain. That would make life so much easier.
