This is the busy time of year for me professionally, so all I've had time to do is lurk. SOo many times I want to respond, but just don't have the time! Pretty soon you'll hear more from me, whether you like it or not...
So we've been adult skid-free in our home for over a month now. I always wanted DH's adult brats out of the house and thought life would immediately rebalance. No such luck. I underestimated how much their bad attitudes and unrelenting hatred toward me and BD11 had affected us all. I feel as if I am suffering a sort of PTSD...like a combat veteran I continue to connect with the war zone although it no longer exists in my home.
For example:
- Every day I resist the need to hide my purse and wallet in my home even though nobody will steal from me anymore.
- My jewelry is still in the safe. I won't wear my nice things.
- I catch myself hiding personal items for fear they will disappear.
- I brace myself at the doorstep after work each day, although I don't need to.
- I continue to be uneasy when I watch TV in the den with my DH and BD11--for so many years it was safer to watch TV alone in my room at night.
I never knew until the skids were out of the house how abused I actually was. I suppose I got accustomed to their hatred and passive agressiveness over time (even though I disengaged!), and twisted myself into a mental bonsai just to cope with it all. Chaos and lies became an everyday staple of my existence. I also got accustomed to being ANGRY all the time--simmering inside, but not coming to a boil.
I have realized that I cannot just pull down the defensive shell I had to build just to deflect the negativity and hatred those petulant brats aimed at me. It will take some time--but how much? I have to jettison the anger somehow--I've been so angry for so long. I suppose I knew that, but I could never express how I felt. At some level I was afraid I would decompensate if I tapped into the well of anger.
I guess I am a survivor of sorts. I just didn't expect that I would be affected by them so deeply. I thought--as many of you do--that when they turned 18 and/or moved out of the house everything would be OK and return to normal.
Everything but me.


















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