Isolation

It's been about 15mths now since I was diagnosed with anxiety/depression and complex trauma, after years of struggling and not knowing what was wrong with me. I'm still working my way through trauma recovery if that's even what it can be called. You can't undo trauma but you learn not to live "in" it. That's the goal. It can be a vicious cycle though. The trauma causes anxiety and the anxiety intensifies the trauma. And you feel alone in the world because of the isolation. People who once included you in activities, parties, get togethers, don't even realize that they've forgotten you. The isolation is gradual. You wake up one day and realize that outside of "work" activities, you have no friends. No one who just hangs out with you to do nothing. No one to talk to about 'life'. No one to confide in. And the isolation grows. You start to think 'why would anyone want to be around me'. The anxiety and trauma convince you that you are not worthy. And the isolation confirms it. Because if you were worthy people wouldn't have forgotten you. It's not their fault. People don't forget you on purpose. But they get tired of inviting you and having you decline and gradually just stop asking. It's not even a conscious thing. It just evolves.

To Share Or Not To Share

So far I've only really told the details of my story to the 'professional' therapist, my cousin Louise, and to a lesser extent, my cousin Tina. Most other people know that I'm dealing with something but they don't know what. They are aware that I'm struggling with depression and anxiety but not the cause(s).

I've been hesitant to share anything with relatives because most of them I don't know well enough. Many I've only met once or twice. They weren't around to witness anything, and I feel that their perception of my mother will not match my reality. It's that fear of not being believed. And yesterday I experienced exactly that . A relative oversees reached out to offer to chat, and I made the mistake of opening up just a little. I shared that I've been struggling with depression / anxiety / complex trauma and have been getting professional help and that a lot of it revolves around my mother and how she treated me. The person responded that she didn't notice my mother being critical of me when they visited Canada or when we visited Australia. And because I was feeling particularly vulnerable, those words hit me as if she was outright saying I must be making it up. If she didn't see it then she can't believe me. Saying she didn't see it translated in my mind as , “I don't believe you”. I got through most of yesterdays “to do” stuff and then spiralled downwards into a funk. On my way home from teaching I became overwhelmed with sadness, and cried, and cried. I felt hurt. My truth challenged. Self doubt is already a huge obstacle in this recovery. In the absence of 'hard documented evidence' , there brews a fear that I'm just crazy and fabricating a life that is purely fictional. All the doubts surrounding , “am I remembering things correctly?” .... “is this all in my imagination?”. But the emotions aren't conjured. They just show up ... usually when I least expect them. Something causes those emotions so ..... it can't be all in my head ...... right?

I'm in a slightly better frame of mind today and in re-reading her message, I don't feel that it was her intention to imply that she disbelieved me. Her comment about not noticing my mothers criticism, was followed by a comment that she did notice that my dad was super supportive. And I can see how she would not have seen anything. When we went to Australia my mother was meeting her brothers after twenty plus years; and meeting their wives/children for the first time. So she would have been putting on her best front to make a good impression. She wouldn't have accosted me in front of them. She couldn't show that side of herself. In fact, that's the problem ..... very few people saw that side of her.

The other reason for not sharing too much with family is that three of my mothers siblings are still alive (although 2 of them have dementia) and I don't want to tarnish their memories of her or bring shame to the family by revealing things that don't shine a good light. I feel like everybody has to die before I can truly be free. As long as there are people who could be hurt by the knowledge of my experience, I have to carry the burden ..... keep the secret. I have to protect them from any fallout. My whole life has been like this. Keep the secret. Pretend everything is okay. Put on a good front. Protect the family from any negative gossip.

I did learn though that depression seems to run in the family. This particular aunt confessed that she has experienced depression and benefited from medication, and that my uncle also has experience bouts of depression. I also learned from another aunt that two other of my mothers siblings were hospitalized for depression during their lives. It doesn't surprise me given their truly awful childhoods. They experienced significant childhood trauma.