cherapple

There are benefits to not breaking out, like approval and monetary gifts and rewards from family, and social acceptance from friends and other people around you, which most people either don't want to or are afraid to give up. What we can do is be an example of the benefits of breaking out, by achieving success and happiness on our own. When we realize that the costs of taking the secondary benefits are greater than the costs of living for truth, we achieve change. It's achieved on a personal, person to person basis, and not by controlling or changing what anyone else does.

I am in Schenectady.

Hi, Sandra, Do you remember what your feelings were about yourself, that you were born to such a mother? Did you have thoughts about "deserving" her as she was, or deserving more than you got? Was your grandmother – also a mother, so you couldn't have believed that all mothers were evil – your mother's mother, or your fathers? Cheryl

I attended a Survivors of Incest (SIA) meeting last night for the first time, and I was pleasantly surprised with the amount of rational and moral clarity that I witnessed. In the past few months, I have also tried a couple of Adult Children of Alcoholics (ACOA) meetings, looking to find local people who were talking about their childhood histories. Since ACOA has "adult children" in its name, I was hopeful for some moral clarity. I was disappointed with the ACOA meetings, but last night I was happy to witness a good level of rational self-work and moral clarity in the people at the SIA meeting. I think the difference lies in the focus. AA and ACOA meetings, and meetings like Overeaters Anonymous (OA), etc., focus on inanimate objects (alcohol, food) and concepts (alcoholism, eating disorders, etc.) as symptoms of mysterious "disease." There's a lack of clarity about where those "diseases" come from, which allows people to focus on "disease" and avoid its roots. "It comes from being born with a chemical imbalance in the brain, with unlucky genetics," and parents also "just happened to be cursed with alcoholic children." (The latter especially is a viewpoint that I don't want to go back to support, or hear more about.) In such an environment, an attraction to religion and a higher power to fix the mysterious illnesses would be attractive. I had a different experience in the SIA meeting (which my therapist suggested I try). People were placing the blame for the sexual abuse that they experienced as children where it belonged. They expressed anger at their parents and their families. Many of them acknowledged they had no positive relationship with their families. Some of the people were religious, but some also explicitly and angrily rejected religion and they understood how it had hurt them. There was a clear focus on WHO did the damage, and what the damage to them was. There was a clear acceptance of the innocence of their child selves. Afterward, I felt some of my protectors (in the language of IFS therapy) relax, and coping behaviors felt less urgently needed. I'm going back. I would say, just like finding a good therapist, finding a good support group takes some searching. There's a crap ton of irrationality in support groups, just like in therapy (if not more so), but finding local people who are rational and who are doing real work is possible (if I can say that with any authority after one promising meeting).

I would go the other way and find therapists whom I might like (who offer the type of therapy I want), and then ask them before I ask anything else, "Do you take such and such insurance?" Insurance listings usually offer the most generic descriptions of therapists and they are not helpful at all in finding someone who might be good. If you find someone that you like, and they do not take your insurance, you can ask them to become part of your insurance company's network. I've had therapists successfully do that, and they were also willing to provide sessions at a reduced rate while we waited for the insurance to kick in.

I haven't listened to the podcast, although it's been at the top of my want-to list, because it hadn't shown up on my podcatcher. It's there now, so I'll listen before commenting further.

Sorry, I was responding to the above, which may have come from an emotional reaction in me.

Instead of waiting for women to come to you and connect with you on the level of abstraction, why not approach women and attempt connect with them on the level of emotion? Show them curiosity and treat them like their emotions are rational. They've likely never had anyone do that before. It's no guaranty that they will accept their own emotions as rational, or that they will become interested in philosophy, but that's probably how you will find the ones who will.

The value of dreams is that they are another avenue to experience, learn about, and develop a deeper understand of (and relationship with) yourself. In the hypothetical dream about "an alien invasion where you run home to your mother," for example, what do you feel? How do you feel about yourself? Your mother? The aliens? Do the situation and the feelings it elicits remind you of any events in your waking life? Why might your unconscious mind want to create such a situation or elicit such feelings? Are you needing to process something? Is something bothering you in your waking life of which you are not fully conscious, or that you want to ignore? What are the consequences of not being conscious? What might be the rewards of listening to yourself and achieving a greater understanding of yourself? Symbols in dreams can be interesting and even fascinating, but I focus most on the feelings because they are the most honest and telling experiences that we have about who we are.

Here's an article by Daniel Mackler on 12-Step programs, which he attended for a number of years. He says they helped him, but ultimately he left. He explains why: http://wildtruth.net/the-twelve-steps-of-alcoholics-anonymous-a-translation-into-reality/ It's one thing to be in recovery from something that was done to you, or that happened to you, but to be "in recovery" from yourself—from a genetic (or mysterious) "addictive personality," or from an unlucky draw of being "born with a bad chemical brain makeup," like some strange and ugly growth—is another thing altogether. I think it's a terrible tragedy that is done to people, that makes them willing to accept such permanent and hopeless labels upon themselves. It keeps them in the program, worshiping it, and needing it indefinitely. I applaud your desire to question the labels.

What is your relationship like with your parents? How did you feel in their care as a young child? How do you feel about caring for them in the future? The root of your questions isn't about what's right or wrong regarding caring for parents, in general, but about what's right or wrong for you, which only you can know.

I regret responding. Deleted.

How would you feel about telling your therapist exactly what you just wrote? About the email: "why [parents] don't [get help] is a separate question entirely, and not relevant here." If it's not relevant, why does she feel the need to say it? Obviously, she wants to make the point that it is still relevant to her. "I also processed this conversation and explored my personal experience with my supervisor." How much has she explored YOUR personal experience? "I feel clear and confident that our principles in this area do line up, and I'm in a position to safely accompany you in the work you're doing, without risk of contamination." By "our principles," does she mean yours and hers, or her supervisor's principles and hers? She "feels confident," but the important thing is whether YOU feel confident with her. The fact that she needs to state it, and bring up her supervisor, I think, says the opposite. Whose word is "contamination"? Is that a word that you have brought up with her, or is that her word? What parts of the email stood out for you?

I don't know whether ambivalence qualifies as empirical evidence, but if we had only one personality, how would we explain holding opposing or conflicting ideas, thoughts, and feelings at the same time?

Wow, I'm so sorry this happened to you. I haven't looked up any studies, but I've had similar questions. I was also born two months premature. My mother said she fell on ice, which caused her to go into premature labor, but I wonder whether my father pushed her. Their relationship was violent after I was born, so I assume the same was true before my birth. (I was an "accident," I would have been aborted if it were legal at the time, and there was never any love between my parents.) Parents weren't allowed to hold premature babies 45 years ago. My parents could only look at me through a window during my first two months, while I lived in an incubator. I've always considered that to be incredibly sad that I got no parental bonding immediately after birth, and it is, but lately I've begun to see it as a blessing. I don't know how much attention I got from the nursing staff, but I feel some gratitude that my first, most vulnerable months were spent shielded from my parents. Studies can be helpful, but what were your actual experiences after you were born? Since I grew up with abusive parents, it's difficult to say what difficulties I had were caused by abuse and what ones were caused by being born prematurely (which was also probably caused by abuse).

How long have you been seeing this therapist, and how do you feel about switching? I'm not saying you should. I'm wondering whether you have any anxiety about doing so, or about staying with her, for that matter. One thing I've learned to do is interrupt my therapist. Especially since it's a part of my history to sit passively and listen quietly, as if what someone else has to say is important, and what I have to say doesn't matter. As if someone else is worthy of being heard, but I am not. Do you recognize such a pattern in yourself? Did you "not want to interrupt" your parents when they spoke? Which really means, and perhaps it meant the same for your therapist, that they did not want you to interrupt them. You were bothered, and I would guess that you really wanted to interrupt and speak the truth. The most important thing for me is that I be sure that my therapist will stand for my child self over my parents. You could even ask, if you haven't, what your therapist's relationship is, and was, with her parents. If she excuses them (or herself, if she's a parent), then you can be sure she will excuse yours. Your therapist's flattery is suspicious, to me, as well as excusing her own actions by saying, "People like to believe that parents do the best they can." She's talking about herself. She's saying she's willing to believe whatever she likes to believe. Does she understand that even if it were true that "parents do the best they can," it doesn't minimize the hurt parents do to their children? A child does not understand his parents' history, or the reasons for his parents' actions, especially if his parents haven't done any work to understand themselves. Is that "the best they can do"? It doesn't change the fact that you still have to heal from the damage, and you've hired her to help you do that, not to help your parents.

I have similar questions: Did your mother in any way imply that her miscarriage was your fault? Did she express any curiosity or sympathy about your desire for a sibling, or for your childhood loneliness? How was it that you were the one to comfort her in your adulthood interaction? Was this similar to your experiences as a child, that you had to support her? Quote: "To console myself through the grief, in my mind, I created the brother I never had. I mourned him. I embraced him. I visualized him." Is this sibling part a defense mechanism to in order to protect you — the very role you say you wanted from a sibling — against performing these same behaviors for yourself?

When I have panic attacks, it's because I am catastrophizing and imagining the worst outcome in a particular situation, I feel powerless to avoid it, and suffering whatever I'm imagining seems unbearable. You ask about the cause of panic attacks. That would be a panic-inducing childhood, or parents, to be more precise. The truth of what was happening to you literally was unbearable, you were literally powerless, you literally experienced the worst that could happen (or it seemed that way), and you feared you might not survive. There are many things I do to break the pattern of panic: I listen to the catastrophic scenario that I'm imagining, and although the temptation may be to dissociate, I give it MORE attention. I understand that anything that feels overwhelming points to childhood, when the world literally was overwhelming and catastrophic. I understand that only a part of me is catastrophizing. It may feel like it consumes me, but I know that it doesn't. I am a strong, intelligent, determined, and capable adult now, and where I am weak, I will do anything possible to work on becoming stronger. I look at the pattern of all the times that I've imagined the worst, and the worst has never happened. I ground myself. I plant my feet, perhaps even lie on the floor, and breath slowly and deeply. I relax my body and concentrate on noticing my surroundings, what day it is, what time, how old I am, and that I am safe in the present moment. I exercise, sing, or otherwise activate my body to make myself more conscious of where I am. I call a friend, or even my therapist, and talk about what I'm experiencing, or I journal. I allow myself to cry because I wasn't allowed to cry as a child. It meant further attack and greater fear. I counteract that history with gentleness. Once I've done even a few of these things, I begin to experience my present-day power to act in my own interest, and the panic subsides. In IFS fashion, I thank myself for remembering how frightening my childhood was, so that I can have the opportunity to comfort myself and support myself in the ways that I couldn't as a child. I commit every day to supporting myself. Over time, the frequency and intensity of the attacks lessen. Panic attacks can be incredibly painful and frightening. You may feel like you are either going to die, or you wish you would die. I have so much sympathy for anyone who experiences them, and who had a history that inflicted them.

If you fear ostracism and social rejection, then you are going to see it as torture, but it is only torture to children and insecure people (not to call you insecure). Adults have the power to negotiate in situations of conflict, and to find people who want what they have to offer. A secure person is glad to get away from someone who doesn't like him. Ostracism can be a gift that gets you out of bad relationships. I don't want to be around people who reject me.

Does your dinner-party friend know of your feelings about your former friend? Perhaps it would help to just talk to her about your experiences of the other person, and tell her your worries and discomfort. You don't have to ask her to uninvite him, but at least you would have your feelings out in the open with someone else who was present at the party. Then you wouldn't feel alone or isolated in your feelings. She might be willing to help you avoid him, or she might even offer to uninvite him, if she knows the truth. At the very least, she'll know not to put you at the same dinner table.

Ostracism is something a person invites upon himself by behaving in such a way that people don't want to be around him.

There would be two forms of threshold, as I see it. One form involves dissociation from the pain, in a situation where you cannot, or choose not to, remove yourself from the hurtful situation. There would be another, which involves self-acceptance — feeling the emotional pain, processing it, and taking action to remove yourself to a place of comfort, joy, and safety. There's false comfort and true comfort. To which one do you refer, or to both?

I think structural violence debunks itself. Enforced structure is violence, and the solution is to enforce more structure?

You absolutely aced this conversation. Your father failed from his first word. I'm partly astounded, and partly not, at the level of apathy and disinterest he expresses right out of the gate, after you made the effort to approach him and sit down with him. I wouldn't judge yourself as having a lack of ability to love. The ability shines through in the honesty of your conversation. I think your "I love you" at the end may have been a last ditch effort to reach him. I feel incredible sadness at the thought. One last grasp in hope that he might wake up, turn to you, and SEE you. It could have been an attempt to instill rightful guilt. It could have been attempt to reach him by speaking his language — the language of meaningless words. What do you think?

I don't like how she expresses her skepticism with sneering scorn and condescension. She's a beautiful woman who knows she can get away with not being nice, and she does.