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I’m getting an error message, and i worry its over breaking off with my mother. I see so clearly that it should be done according to practical psychological wisdom but sonewhere in the fairytale landscape of our relatioship i fear i am erring.  I just came to a place where i pissed someone off and couldnt help it.  It goes back to her ectopic pregnancy.  I am bound by it in a way where i can’t see past her not being able to get beyond it.  She would have died without medicasl assustance.  I always wondered what she thought over a child whose life almost was her death and how that distorted her relationship with me and my siblings.  My sister, who was born several years later, was treated like a little miracle and led a charmed life.  My brother and i became sullen.  Like the cats.  Who threw up their food and laid around all day.

My mother became a hormone abusing psychopath ( she was taking a thyroid supplement which supposedly addressed her mental disorder and recently she confessed to me that she used to take extra when she wanted a little energy or for weight loss.)

For so very many years i was the scapegoat and it is this blogging that is slowly turning it around.   8 years ago, when i first purchased a conputer from a program that approached my university, i could barely talk.  Then, i became the Interrupted Poet, and attempted suicide in the aftermath of deleting, in a panic, my popular blog about my marital and birth families, and my neighborhood in Florida.  I couldn’t get it back.

Now i am gradually regaining a sense of order and balance–my sanity.  It takes a lot of creative and thorough forgetting.  My new therapist noted my extensive history of hypervigilance,  whole moments fron the distant past retained in full visual detail.   Its too much.  But here at this Home there is healung.  My elimination reaction is restored.  Its embarassing, but that was the nature of my constipation that i couldnt explain to anyone.  The reflex got screwed up.  And i am losing the fearful vigilance against noises.  The therapist said that it seemed like i was stuck in a chronic, ongoing ‘fight or flight’ moment.  And i was constantly being flooded with sensational experience.

Well i can only hope and pray, miss D, the therapist, pointed me to Philipians 4:6, “Dont worry about anything, instead, pray about everything.  Tell God what you need, and Thank Him for all He has done.”  So i will trust him to lead all of us out of this deadly crevasse created all throughout our lives by my mother’s ectopic pregnancy.

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