Both. Physical evidence of my bad headspace and I’m not entirely sure what triggered it.
Yes, I wrote that on my own left leg after writing for several pages in my paper notebook. Like I said, bad night and now morning since it’s 2:45 am right now. It doesn’t quite cover the whole leg but it does cover what you see plus a little above the knee. And I’ve never been one to write on myself because I always thought it was dumb. Yet, here I just did it to myself.
Bad headspace. I was journaling working on why I’m struggling with certain sins that I thought had been conquered (which I’m not going to discuss or name) and why I was committing them again. Add to that having been “brainwashed” (for lack of a better term) that for me to be holy and become a saint I needed to be perfect and sinless from the get go. Yeah, bad theology there but then the people who espoused this theology didn’t care to know the accurate theology let alone live it themselves. Believe me, I’ve heard and believed some complete and utter garbage and outright heretical things over the years. Also add in teachings about saints that bordered on the extreme where it was hagiography instead of their true life story and it’s no wonder I’m messed up.
Add in my mother’s abuse which also reinforced these teachings along with her damning me to Hell for whatever little thing pissed her off this time and I’m surprised I’m still Catholic let alone have any sort of religious belief.
I was journaling not only to figure why I kept committing these particular sins over and over again but if the past abuse I suffered could have been the cause of it. I know I’ve written about my mother’s verbal, psychological/mental, possible physical, emotional, and deliberate violation of my boundaries but I was wondering if there might have been sexual abuse. Maybe not from her but my step-grandfather who’s dead.
I did read, years ago, that mothers can sexually abuse their daughters by violating their boundaries with actions such as
-walking into the bathroom while the daughter is bathing
-the mother forcing the daughter to be in her presence when the mother is in just her underwear or even nude
-mother going into the bathroom while the daughter is using the toilet and forcing her to interact with her, maybe even commenting on her bodily functions
-making the daughter go into the bathroom the mother is on the toilet and making her stay while the mother does her business
-making the daughter undress in front of the mother and having the mother denigrate her body or use explicit sexual terms and/or vulgar language
-and of course, the physical sexual molestation of the daughter by the mother.
There might be more ways a mother can sexually abuse her daughter but those are the ones I can think of. My mother definitely had no problem coming into the bathroom while I was showering and using the toilet. Or using the bathroom with the door wide open and calling me and making me talk to her while she was in there. Things she never did to my sisters only to me.
She would also go through my belongs, through my dresser drawers (not to put things away but to just snoop which of course she didn’t do to my sisters) and clothes, bought me clothes several sizes too big, constantly called me fat even though I wasn’t, and basically just constantly shamed me. Add in the screaming and yelling and denigrating and the rage.
Yet, there are times when I think I must be making this all up, that all this didn’t happen. That I shouldn’t be so messed up. So angry. In so much pain that all I want to do is punish myself, hurt myself and everything will be better, that things will finally be right.
Because I do have anger and pain but nobody wants to hear. So I take it out on myself because that’s safe. Safe and I need to be punished. Punishment and anger I understand, well understand how they work. I can inflict them on me with no repercussions but taking them out on others or even talking about them to others is bad and makes me bad.
So bad headspace. Very bad headspace.
4:10 am update – I did wash that writing off my leg. So that’s gone. It was a dumb thing to do but again, bad headspace means I do dumb things.