Making sense of my past, again.

It's a mystery how people behave
How they long for a life as a slave

Jon went and pulled out my Cardigans albums and I've been listening to them lately. It interests me how that band started out being known for these rather sugary-pop songs (at least in the U.S., where I first heard them) and ended up producing such darkly beautiful love songs. Like "Paralyzed" on Gran Turismo, "Please Sister" on Long Gone Before Daylight (which Kraken says is his favorite song. I don't blame him!) and "And Then You Kissed Me" parts I and II (the first on Long Gone, the second on Super Extra Gravity, which I just finished listening to.)

I always got this kinda thought that Nina Persson must have had something painful happen in her life somewhere between Gran Turismo and the band's later albums, which never even made it to the States and had much of a darker vibe. "And Then You Kissed Me" is pretty much about a woman in an abusive relationship, trying to justify her remaining in it.

I mean... sure. People can write about pain and not really *FEEL* it so much as have heard or read about it. But I can usually tell if it's genuine in some way... *usually*. And I kinda feel that it is with some of these later songs.

I often get that feeling sometimes with roleplaying with others. Well, not necessarily about abuse in particular, but just... people who have had difficult lives. I may not know them enough for them to admit it to me openly, but I think you can tell a LOT about a person from who, what and how they roleplay. Even the people who insist they never put any OOC into their IC -- there's signs, from their preferences and how their characters react to certain situations.

I don't think it's surprising, for the simple reason that people can only RP, write, sing, etc. about what they know and/or have experienced. The more personal and enduring that experience, the more convincingly they will write or perform about it.

I think that's one of the reasons I started to think of myself as an abused person, even though the abuse was purely verbal / emotional. Over time I've had more than one person say that I write from the perspective of an abused person very convincingly. I've even had people ask me (as I've said before, I'm sure) if I really was abused. Of course I said I wasn't... I mean, I grew up thinking the abuse label only applied if it had a physical aspect to it. To this day I still feel uncomfortable admitting I was abused, because I'm afraid of being thought of as a faker.

Abuse is a horrible thing. I never want anyone who's been hurt physically by it, violated sexually by it, to think I'm *posing*. My mind still gets confused by it: am I just looking for attention or pity? didn't I deserve to be treated that way, because I wasn't living up to expectations? And so on.

But there's these little *signs*. Like my phobia of loud, sudden noises. I mean, fireworks and honking cars and people being too loud and rowdy can REALLY set off my anxiety. Popping balloons scare the SHIT out of me; so does people accidentally dropping heavy things on a hard floor. This year I'm just plain staying inside on Quebec Day and Canada Day (the later of which is today I believe!) because I know I'll just end up freaking out and nearly passing out like last year.

That sort of reaction to loud noises can also happen with people with PTSD. Coincidence? I don't know, I'm not a shrink. But just from my layman's experience I would say that a person doesn't flinch and cower at loud, unexpected noises unless they associate (subconsciously, maybe) those noises with a strong emotional trauma.

I never even thought about it that way until last year, really. Realizing that there could be a *meaning* to my phobia was this sudden eye-opening revelation to me. It's kind of like when I was in high school psychology class, and we learned about panic attacks. I read about it, watched this one video where a woman actually voluntarily had a panic attack induced in her with chemicals (my god that was scary to watch), and I realized... "hey wait. I HAVE that."

I've had panic attacks since I was maybe 7 or 8, maybe even earlier. I used to only get them in cars, actually, like during long road trips with the family. Sometimes they'd just come up during day-to-day driving, though. I found that my panic attacks extended to going on amusement park rides, too -- I remember my parents putting me on one of those Disneyland kiddie roller coasters and I was crying and CRYING the whole way through. It was HORRIFYING for me. I get this feeling that I'm just going to die and there's nothing I can do to stop it, like I'm completely out of control of my environment.

I had to learn to hide that I had them, when I was young. I didn't want to start crying or screaming and make people uncomfortable or angry at me. Even when I got older, I had to find ways to hide it, beause most people just don't realize how truly horrific and uncontrollable panic attacks can be. When the panic starts, you can't just easily make it go away. It's not an ordinary fear. It's a primal, instinctive terror that rises in you even when you don't WANT it to, even when your rational mind tells you the situation is not dangerous or threatening at all.

Today, I still get these kind of long term panic attacks while in cars. I also can get them if I ingest enough caffeine, so I try to avoid that (the trip I took to Vegas back in 2000-ish showed me that). It's worst when I'm driving because I have to try to control my panic enough to stop at a safe spot. I haven't even driven in so long (maybe 2 years by now) that I'm afraid I may never be able to drive again. I'll already be anxious just starting to again, and that only makes me more likely to end up panicking.

*sigh* So as I was saying. My phobias and panic attacks are one sign that I think relates to me having been an emotionally abused child. Then there's my rape fantasies, relating to my defense mechanism of taking pride in being able to bear being threatened/intimidated/etc. without flinching. That pride became so euphoric for me, so satisfying that it became pleasure.

I have fantasies about being a slave. Which is why the lyrics above are relevant.

Jon fears for me, a lot. Particularly my desire to just... let people abuse me, in exchange for something that turns out to be much lesser value. For example, I might consent to demeaning behavior or a demeaning situation in order to gain the respect of another. (That's what happened with one of the recent games I tried joining, though I VERY quickly left it once I realize I fell into it again.) The problem with that is that such respect is false, because a person who truly respected me would not even ask such things of me, or at least discuss it with me thoroughly before exposing me to it.

With [a certain family member -- again, I'm sure you can guess] I endured abuse because I didn't think I had a choice. Because he was the one who gave me money, who let me live under his house, and so on. I grew up believing that being alive and healthy was a privilege he granted me, and so I would ALWAYS feel obligated to him, no matter how he treated me.

Now look at me today. I have no confidence to take control of my life. I'm scared and mistrusting of people. I can't even do things like go out to the store or make phone calls without freezing up about whether I'll do or say something wrong. Every time even a tiny thing goes wrong in a well thought out plan, I panic. I think about how worthless I am and how pathetic it is I can't even be arsed to end my own life, so I'll stop being a waste.

It's like I can't function without someone to tell me what to do. Someone to obey.

My [family member] likes to blame all my woes on depression, as if it just... happened upon me by coincidence. I am willing to believe I'm genetically predisposed to depression, but I also think that there are environmental and emotional triggers that can make the effect worse. I really don't think people just spontaneously become depressed. They may feel inclined towards it, but being nurtured and encouraged to be confident in themselves would help lessen the impact depression may have on their lives.

The damage done to me simply can't be undone -- not by him, anyway. It's too late for that now. I'm too old to unlearn the associations I have with him. And he isn't going to change, especially if he believes the fault comes from something in my head.

Honestly, I think that if that person truly cares about me, he would simply leave me alone. It would be the best gift he has ever given to me.