Written @ 8:45 p.m. on 2007-05-08
Sherrybaby
I just finished watching a movie called Sherrybaby. It is about a heroine addict being released from jail and reintroduced to her four year old daughter. I'm never happy with movies lately. I'm told that what is being produced lately is really poor, but also I think I became a real snob after attending film school. I look for independent stuff, and that's pretty much why I picked this. Then I figured out it was about losing one's kid. Deep breath. I like to push myself. Let's watch and see what happens to exhibit A, me.
I watched. I didn't cry. There were some uncomfortable parts, but I found I didn't relate to her situation as much as I thought I might. Devastating, but not hitting me in my raw spots. The lady was a recovering heroine addict, and was pretty far gone. I was never thinking, Oh the injustice! This woman should have her child! I just saw how hard it is to pull out of such a deep, dark hole, even though she did her best. She was just not fit.
Not like me. I was treated like a child abuser, a heroine addict, a whore, but there was no piss test for me. There was only his word against mine. Every day I thought, the kids will come back today. The kids will come back today... The System will see the lies and deception and everything will become fair and right and the children will waltz right through that door shouting,"Mommy! Mommy!" with big grins. Only they didn't, not for months and months.
Sigh. I was no heroine addict.
I read an article about PTSD in women combat veterans, and that hit me more at home. I could relate to returning home after a traumatic situation that no one around could imagine. I could relate to nightmares, hyervigilance, and extreme anxiety. I got mad that there are many treatments for PTSD that were never discussed with me. I had PTSD so bad from living with and being abused by my husband that I was unable to function, and for that reason he was able to point the finger and say SHE'S CRAZY! and I didn't have the strength left to properly rebutt. I wish I had read that article years ago, and found some help more quickly.
The article mentioned a veteran who had a list in the bathroom of what to do-wash face, brush teeth, etc. They couldn't remember what to do because they were so traumatized. After I lost the kids, I was at that point myself, and I wish someone had said,"You have ptsd, and part of that is forgetting easy things sometimes. That's normal and will pass, but we can make a list for you, ok?"
What I was getting was,"Oh? You forget things? But how does that make you FEEL?"
Sigh. It makes me feel like I forget things sometimes, Ms. Nice Social Worker Lady. These people are grossly underqualified, if well intentioned. Talk therapy is expected to heal all wounds, but in my case The Depression Workbook that I checked out of the library really cured me. Practical advice, instead of the sour, rotten milk ceaseless inquiry,"And how do you FEEL?"
If you are having a hard time, I'll tell you, The Depression Workbook gave advice on how to ask for help from friends, on how to cut back your obligations, on how to take care of the things that must be done. Really a big help.
Now I'm HAPPY. I never believed I'd get here. I thank god with every breath I take.