The danger for those of us who suffered from long term, violent child abuse is that we can so easily be overwhelmed with sadness. Some of us cry rivers. Some of us slam the door to our emotions shut so fast and so firmly that we can pretend we have no emotions at all. At the root of both reactions still lies the same thing: an insecure attachment disorder.
It can take such applied effort to make it through a pain filled day that it can make us wonder why we bother to try to go on at all. I know. I had one of those days today.
I have no words of wisdom. I have no words, either, to express how fortunate I am that I have caring friends, and a dear sister who spent hours with me on the phone today as I tried to dig my fingernails into this thing called life.
I’m still here. I painted my bathroom through my tears today. I cleaned out my refrigerator and my freezer. I did laundry and hung it in the fresh air on the line to dry. I dug and redug my compost pile. All of it, all day, through tears I could not stop.
I know that my insecure attachment disorder is a deadly serious one. I know at the root of it lies fundamental disorganization and disorientation. I have to be careful. I try to be careful. I try to keep moving forward no matter how sad I feel. Next I am going to make a mosaic on my wall. Because I want to. Because I can. Because it will be beautiful. Because I can leave it here behind me if I am soon forced to leave this home.
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Anything that shakes what I organize and orient myself around is going to put me at risk for deep, dire trouble. How would I have been able to live my life differently if I knew about my insecure attachment disorder a long time ago? Could I have understood how vitally important it is for me to have not only a home, but a home of my own? Yet I don’t see that I’ll ever have the resources, inner or outer to accomplish this in my lifetime. But I don’t know that for sure.
I do know for sure that the thought of having to shred my home apart yet again in my life brought me to a state of sorrow that I have so deep inside of myself I know it has no bottom. Why today did I need so to cry, and not so yesterday? I do not know. I do not know what triggered my pain so badly today, and not yesterday.
I have to have hope for tomorrow. I have to hope that these tears cried themselves out today and will not find me such a vulnerable host for them — tomorrow. Sometimes I fear that this hurting, sad, sad Linda who cannot stop crying is the closest to the real Linda I have. When I cannot dissociate from her, into somebody else, I can do little else but cry.
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Stop the Storm 
I hope you are having a better day today. Anyone facing the changes that you are facing would be upset. I realize your attachment issues make it so much more intense. I hope you continue to draw on the strength of your sister and friends and ride this thing out. You have survived so much in your life–you will survive this too (even though, right now, it doesn’t feel like you will).
You ended your post with hope–the never ending hope that you always seem to have–that tomorrow will be better. This is something that is done only by a true survivor.
Sending healing vibes your way………..
Thank you. Reading your comment brought tears to my eyes. But I don’t want to cry today, so I will post for today and then go paint stencils on my bathroom wall. Some times are so much harder than others……. again, thank you for your kindness and your much appreciated optimism and encouragement!