May 14, 2010

Friday, May 14, 2010

I’m loving this book, The Courage to Heal Workbook.

[Full title: The Courage to Heal Workbook: A Guide for Women and Men Survivors of Child Sexual Abuse.]

It’s a great challenge that forces me to think deep. I like to use my critical thinking skills.


I’m surprised to realize, through the exercises, that I don’t really trust Sammie, the piano player. [Reference posts about “Sammie,” here.] But just a week ago, I thought I did. But now I think that that was just forced trust—me trying to force or pretend it’s turning into a deep relationship.

Sometimes, I’m still so desperate to be special and important, to guys. Even a married guy like Sammie.

But I’m glad I realize this now. We are still relatively new friends. It’s natural to not trust him, yet. Trust is something that must be built slowly over time—not rushed or pushed or fantasized into overnight reality. Another part of me doesn’t trust him simply because he is a guy.


I felt sad, almost jealous, when I realized that he has MANY female friends and he hugs many of them. The “special, new feeling” faded. I like being “new” to groups or people—I like the attention that is received in the beginning. I feel special and important.

Then, of course, it fades when I am no longer new. I feel unimportant and unlovable. Then I get sad and “disappear,” playing the “neglected child” role.

Then I look for the next “high,” which is a person with whom I am new and special and can give me that initial attention, that appears to me to be acceptance and love, thus giving me the impression and feeling that I am worthy, important and special.

Sounds like an addiction cycle. I want it to stop.

I think the way to stop it is to stop running from new friends. Keep building my inner worth so I don’t have to rely on others for self esteem and feeling important.


Dolly, first childhood friend. My family moved away when I was 5-6.

Kathie, very close friend. Her family moved to Chicago when I was in 2nd grade (approx. 7 years old).

Casey, close friend. Her family moved to Indiana when I was in 3rd grade (approx. 8 years old).

[Note: It might be worthwhile to also note here that somewhere around 7-8 years old is when a male babysitter was sexual with me.]

Did I ever get close to anyone after that? I had friends in middle and high school, but I was shy and closed-off, for the most part. I don’t remember sharing intimate feelings with anyone, except in my 20s, when I’d suddenly spill all info about me, without boundaries, to anyone who might show a small interest in me.


I saw Sammie at the dueling piano bar last night. The guys were tense because their boss (the same guy who listened to my audition) was there. Sammie said he was down because the boss was blaming him for poor business. I offered my ear and friendship.

Today, his wife called me. I was expecting her to tell me that Sammie had cancelled the get-together tonight. I was expecting him to do what I would have done—when I get sad, I tend to cancel commitments, withdraw and isolate.

But he obviously is not doing that. In fact, she invited me to come over and hang out, as a pre-party, then to the dueling piano bar, and then back to their house for an after-party.

I admire that he didn’t withdraw and cancel. I’m glad I had a chance to witness it. Maybe he’ll be sad today—I don’t know. He is his own responsibility. I can just be a supporting friend… and take care of myself, as well.


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