Today was just one of those days. Raining, raining, raining, and so dreary. Not my favorite weather, you might say. Perfect weather for a nice little cry fest though, and that is exactly what I just did tonight on the phone with my husband.
Clinic was okay today; however, my supervisor needed to ask questions regarding how my grading will be conducted for clinical practicum this semester given that my case has been slightly different than usual ones due to my ongoing "personal issues of depression and anxiety"(the wording used to describe my decline in academic performance to professors and supervisors). I tried to go over the logistical information with her - there's an official letter coming from the disabilities/accommodations office, etc. - but then I unexpectedly connected to what I was saying and started crying - ugh.
I'm pretty sure the point at which I started to breakdown was when I referenced that my thesis advisor would be the best professor to gauge the grading scale since he is president of the clinic and knows the most about my condition. To view more information regarding my initial interaction with my thesis advisor, click here. I guess I connected to what "knowing the most about my condition" entails, and it started the emotions a-churnin' - double ugh.
The remainder of the day I just kind of felt like I was in an emotional fog, holding myself back from tears and emotions I didn't want to acknowledge. It's probably only normal that I felt kind of down in the dumps; well, that is, until I had an emotional release on the phone with my husband just a few minutes ago. I held back initially, but I think I needed it because I actually feel a lot better.
Not to mention, something my husband said in comforting me really made a lot of sense. Something that has always plagued me about my acquaintance rape experience is the way in which my parents reacted. I've never been able to understand their response...at all. I don't really recall them ever once assigning blame to my perpetrator, but I remember very clearly how they assigned blame to me. What I could have done to prevent it. What I should have done to prevent it. What I shouldn't have been doing to prevent. They expressed concern about officials at my high school (the boarding school I also attended with the perpetrator) finding out - if they were to find out, they were concerned how it would reflect on MY reputation - not his. No, of course not his - "boys will do that."
Many - no, I'd say most - of my secondary wounding comments came from my parents. It was extremely hurtful and confusing, and sometimes it just felt plain cruel. I have longed to understand where they were coming from because I can't even begin to comprehend it. It has been such a source of pain for me, and I guess I have felt that I needed to understand where they were coming from in order to process my emotions and move on.
However, tonight my husband made a really good point - "M, I don't think you're focusing on the right things here. You are never going to understand where your parents were coming from because quite frankly, their behavior didn't make a whole lot of sense. Even if you could find an answer to those questions, the answers wouldn't make you feel better." SO TRUE!
I don't know what I have been hoping to discover by analyzing their behavior because when it comes down to it, they behaved the way they did, and I felt pain as a result...no. matter. where. they. were. coming. from.
I am letting go of trying to understand where they were coming from. That was them, not me. There's no need for me to figure out them when there's more than enough to figure out about myself these days!
Letting go of having to understand their perspective really makes me feel lighter all of sudden. Like healing is a little more manageable.
I can choose the course of my healing journey. And, well, now I am choosing to drop off this little load here. I'm going to make this long journey with a slightly lighter load on my back. And that's a nice thought on which to head to bed. Good night!