I did it again. Neglected to blog despite needing to.
Processing trauma is an interesting thing. It sort of just comes at you. I have said for a while that my mother (hence forth referred as Incubator) wasn’t affectionate with be beyond the age of four. I remember one moment specifically at that age but I’m sure really if that was the exact moment affection ended.
So I randomly started crying this morning. Thankfully Ian was here or it would have all been a bit harder to process. As he held me there and tears quietly fell down my face and soaked his hair, I unpacked why I suddenly needed to cry. It was the lack of affection, and that I had been labelled as “bad” and when you’re bad, you don’t get cuddles.
I’d known this, I’d told people this, I’ve told therapists and other people in recovery from neglect and abuse this, but I suppose I had never ACCEPTED this… and the affect it had on me… until that moment when I suddenly had to process it.
This is the nature of addiction recovery, I know. In active addiction you’re suppressing all the things, and you usually know what the things are but you haven’t accepted them. There’s a curious difference about knowing why someone self medicates, and having actually self medicated… to be now processing the past. Theory is definitely not as profound.
I know this is progressive, and I do have a sense of increased mental clarity just hours after my random cry. Quietly, I hope this small progress will make addiction recovery a little easier?
SP
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