I’m mentally frazzled right now.
A few weeks ago I started the EMDR process. EMDR stands for Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing, and it’s a type of therapy especially useful for trauma victims or those with Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder.
Basically, this therapy is a way to allow your brain to process these traumatic events by dealing with the emotions but having safeguards in place and coping tools to help. Some tools used are lights to move your eyes back and forth, a headset playing a series of alternating beeps in each ear, or little vibrators that alternate in your hands.
It’s not easy. You can’t tackle the big stuff right away and even the ‘small stuff’ is a lot more intense than I realized.
This is not my favorite.
But it’s also good.
I can tell that it will help. It’s just a matter of getting there and being ready to process my childhood traumas… and as much as I want to get past them, it’s scary to think of going into them. I feel like I’m standing at a door that sits ajar, behind which there are screams. I know I need to go in there to do something but it’s scary.
It’s sad when you can compare your life to a scary movie. Maybe that’s a part of why I like Scooby Doo and scary movies though.
In Scooby Doo, you always knew the baddie was a person.
In scary movies, you know it’s something inhuman.
Both ideas are comforting in different ways. I want to believe that my mother is human, that her mental illnesses have driven (and still do) her to do some awful things. But she’s done some unspeakable things that don’t lend to being human either, so it can be easier to vilify her and turn her into a demon.
Neither option is awesome.