Integration

Once I let him go completely, I felt it: a sweet rush of resentment and grief covering the longing that I dissociated years and years ago to protect myself from further trauma. He loves me so much; he treats me so well. He accepts me completely. But though I loved him, though I chose to move thousands of miles for him, giving up everything, starting anew, still I pushed him away.

There was something in that pattern -- something that only made sense once I stepped as far back as I could go. I let him go completely, let go of the guilt I couldn’t make sense of, and let go of the defenses.

It was simple after that. I missed my family. I didn’t want to leave. I was happy before I came here. I loved him and I resented him for the same reasons I resented my parents when they moved me away from Supercity. I pushed them away like I pushed him: because I couldn’t cope loving and hating him at the same time. Because I couldn’t cope loving and hating my parents, too.

So I split. I split then; I split again. And last night, I integrated.

These aren’t metaphors. It was EP-Happy who was angry, resentful and hurt. Once I was able to feel those emotions, I was able to access so many happy memories with my parents and with my husband that I had previously dissociated. I knew something important happened.

I knew I couldn’t let this opportunity for authenticity pass me by. It was the moment I was struggling to find, an opening to my Real Mom.

I let him go so I could make room for her.

She may never understand what it took to get me here. She may reject me today or tomorrow or the next day. That’s her choice. But I, I did what I needed to do for me. I did the best I could. I will continue to do the best I can.

As for how I feel now that I’ve integrated EP-Happy and EP-Sad, well, I’m exhausted. My head aches. I could cry on demand. But I like being able to remember all of the nice things my mum did for me, even and especially when I’m so terribly sad. I remember all of the not-so-nice things they did to me as well, the times when I needed them terribly, and the times when I hurt them in return.

It’s a whole lot of emotion in that bowl, now. My emotion. My responsibility.
And that is what grounds me now.

Me.



Read on the NHS Choices blog.