Psychology and Mental Health Forum Psychology Feed

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emotional hijacking and learning to take personal responsibility

Hello everyone! Here is another post that I wonder if anyone can relate to?

Now I have recognized that I do have some good qualities as I began to understand and rebuild myself but I find that I have also exploited these qualities in the past, distant and and not so distant. At I times I have even justified my actions with these qualities for example talking myself out of returning a phone call from my mother, I'll tell myself that attending to my life changes are more important, I can't disrupt this noble and righteous work, then anger will justify the frustration of having to make these life changes then ill hold her responsible for my current emotional and mental struggles. Ill think she doesn't deserve to speak with me, she deserves to suffer like me, she should be punished. (I know very immature, Its as if bpd is one the more extreme symptoms of immaturity)

Or my sadness will justify my depression after acknowledging how sensitive I am. For an example I'll use avoiding my mothers call again, I'll think to myself that I deserve to be alone for all the stress and pain I have caused others, that there is so much growth that needs to transpire before I can effectively communicate with anyone. That I don't have anything worth saying, that I don't want to worry anyone with my issues and ineptitude. (Really I'm just removing a level of responsibility and accountability over my own actions that I believe I'm too exhausted for, too depressed to invest my energy in to)
This is where My Fear interjects sometimes, creating thoughts like I would just embarrass myself if I try to educate or inform my mother on my current condition because I don't really know myself like i once believed I did, I'll sound uninformed to her, like I'm not trying to change, or I'm not taking the growth that needs to transpire seriously enough. (The shame would be too much to bear apparently is what Im thinking here, once again I see myself hiding from a level of responsibility because of the fear of emotional shame, which is related to heightened level of emotional sensitivity leaving me fearful of many personal and social situations/confrontations)

Another thing I have become recently hip to is the projection of these insecurities on he world. What I believe people are thinking about me or fear that they may be thinking, really are just what i deep down think about myself. And it does not stop at people i project my demeanor on to all things, in my eyes the world has become as tumultuous as my soul, A place where joy does not exist only struggle and heartache. I believe by improving my perception of self my projection on to the world will also improve, my perception of the world will improve and i will see the beauty of life again.

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Ending Silence

From what I have been told, I was talking and walking by 9 months old. Perhaps it is an exaggeration, but I can attest to the ease I have experienced in school, with dealing with problems, and assessing the “right” behavior in situations.

I have had one imaginary friend, from what I can remember, since I was about two years old. I remember when he first knocked on the door, a back door with a mud room in my house, and I let him in. I would tease my Dad that he was my boy friend. He kept me wonderful company and was an enlightening, safe harbor. I remember another time when someone entered through this same door. I remember that I was handed a stuffed animal by this man, but I cannot recall any more.

When I was seven, I remember feeling sure that I could survive on my own, if only my parents would let me alone. In kindergarten, I could read chapter books and would forge my mother’s signature on the homework list each week. I remember wanting the independence from my mother to moderate my own life.

My favorite thing to do at that time was read. I had a children’s encyclopedia and learned about sexual reproduction in this fashion. I discovered an obsession with looking at Michael Angelo’s “David” sculpture. I would sit and look at it for different durations each day.

Between seven and nine, my parents split up (though, I had suspected it for over a year). At this time I began having very sexual, very vivid dreams. One dream I remember was of my self in a hotel room, seducing a much older, ugly man. I believe between six and seven I was sexually abused again, by the same close friend of my family that had been in my life much earlier, and that I had let into my home through the mud room door. I cannot remember it happening, but I have returned to a certain event when I remember I was alone with this person, and there are blank spots in my memory.

I started touching my self with my dolls or stuffed animals around this time, I don’t really understand why. I would “tell” my sister’s fortune by looking into my crystal ball. Around the same time I stopped feeling normal. When I saw myself in the mirror, I felt an intense, unnatural feeling. It was almost disgust. It increased when I had on feminine clothing. I still feel it, sometimes seemingly random and sometimes by noticeable triggers, to this day.

When I was nine, I realized that my father was not scary. I saw that he would raise his voice to intimidate me- and, I saw that it was just that- and that I was capable of it too. This led me to a strange relationship with aggression. I began to “dominate” my siblings, feel an anger that was confusing and overwhelming. I felt as if something in me was red fire hot, and I had no control over it, nor the ability to stop it, nor the knowledge of how it started. I felt like a victim while I victimized other people. And still, though less frequently and with more control to mask it, I have this sensation of being a puppet. At this time I also began trying to study witch craft and wanted to be a vampire. I would mediate and attempt to make spells.

By the time I was eleven, I was not only participating in on-line sex and wishing to be kissed by a boy at school, but I was finding attendance at school more difficult, as well as having increased bouts with anxiety and depression. This only worsened as I got older. And by fourteen, I was full blown suicidal. My parents attempted to get me help, but the doctors, therapists, teachers, and medication were so easily manipulated that no one could touch me.

I would get into these crazed, raging fits of frustration and aggression. I would yell, scream, shake, cry, weep, sob; I was frightening. I started “cutting” which was mostly scratching. I started messing around with older guys. I started lying and going out and trying to drink/party as much as possible. When my father would have a chance to sit and talk to me, he would try to hug me, but I would yell insults until he would give up. I remember ...

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