It has gotten better thanks to many years of counselling. The once was fear has now turned to nervous. Which thankfully, is a whole lot more livable.
Scared was an understatement. I was terrified. It used to be so bad that my hands began to shake and my lips began to quiver if I attempted to talk. Sometimes my head would start to shake and my breathing would grow fast. I did not know it for a long time but I think I suffered form regular panic attacks. My palms got sweaty and clammy faster than I could say boo.
As someone who has been picked on/ bullied for many years, 20 in fact. This was something I have become used to. It became a part of me. Like living with your brother's tempermental cat. You just learn to live with it. I thought maybe it's just me. Maybe I'm just shy.
Before I had kids I would try to manage my social anxities. In my late teens and early twenties, I would go to the toilet often and pray. I would try excuse myself and go and get a drink and hope to dear God my hands did not shake as I was pouring a drink. Parties were the hardest. Painfully people noticed it a few times and asked are you ok? You look lost I would often get. Or are you worried about. Or worse, which always made me feel embarraessed for something I barely understood let alone could control, someone would tell me, in front of others. Lighten up Catherine, what's wrong?? I hated that responce the most!
How I tried to brush it off. Desperatly I tried. It even eased for many years when I moved to the USA. That was right after my 20 years of bullying ended, at 23, when I had left a church of much Pastor and leadership abuse. I had a new set of friends and I had listened to a sermon many times over on Dignity and worth. Thanks Jim Richards, your preaching was the beginning of my healing journey!
But when you are bullied and or picked on for 20 years in a row. Thoughts don't just magically decide to hop themselves onto a healthier thought train. Oh if only it was that easy. No my thoughts were deeply trenched in a deep highway of of rejection.
When I moved back to Asutralia after living in the USA for 7 years, marrying and having 2 kids I had to face the pain of my past I though was long buried and forgotten.
I especially noticed my reemerging fears one day while shopping in K Mart. I was the moment when my son, only 6 at the time looked up at me while holding his hand, My sweet tender hearted boy asked with great concearn on his face are you ok Mummy?? I did not realise but I had stood in the shop holding his hand, with my 4 year old daughter almost out of sight, frozen watching a group of teens walk by laughing. My thoughts raced to many toxic conclusions. "They are laughing at me", They think something is wrong with me. I turned red. My hand grew sweaty and without my permission my emotions took over my brain and my physical responces were all screaming the same alarm. Danger, Danger. Run. Run! I think my jaw quivered as I answered him with a shaky voice. Yes Mummy is ok, but where is Lucy?
There it was again. Those panic attacks had returned. Surely not. I was 34 by then. Haven't I moved past this? Not again. Please God not again. I am a Mum now. I don't have the time for this.
After chatting with my Pastor, well bursting into tears with him I took his recommendation and headed back to counselling. I had gotten some councelling already. But it was short. I needed some deep, extensive professional help.
My councellor soon after hearing me tell her about my K Mart incident told me what I thought it was. A mild panic attack. But she told me some further information I found shocking to hear. Surely not. Not me! Were my thoughts. She informed me that I had mild post traumatic stress syndrome. What?! I remember thinking! That was for people who have gone through war, or a natural disaster, or were physically or sexually abused. Not me. I did not think what I had experinced qaulified me for that diagnosis!
I remember condeming thoughts coming in. Trying to argue myself out of her prediction I told myself I was too sensitive. After all I ahd been told that many times. I was just too insecure.
It took a long time, but finally I gave myself permission to be someome who had PTSD. I mean after all I had suffered 20 years of abuse. Starting at just 2 or 3. How in the world was I supposed to not fall into PTSD. Looking abck now it shows me my brain and emotions are working perfectly fine. I ahev just learned to listen more closely to my inner girl voice, rather than ignore it, condemen it, boss it around or deny it.
My counsellor, Marion Sorrenson, went onto gently explain when I see a group of teenagers or even feel that fear when I walk into a group of any size or situation including school or chruch, teh frontal cortex of my brain tells me I am in danger. Because, in the past in many group situations, emotionally and sometimes even physically speaking I really was in danger. The frontal cortex of my brain was giving me fight or flight signals. It was trying to protect me. My memoreies were locked in the past of many years of being a dork, or being a reject. Of being the brunt of other kids or teens jokes.
Sadly when the bullying happens at home, by a brother much older than you, there is nowhere to run. In the classroom when you are laughed at, there is no place to hide or secape. In church, when it is your Pastor telling you all that is wrong with you , there is nowere to go if you believe her that if you do you are in disobedience to God and to her, who apparently had authority over you.
Tragically, to the sacrifice of my own emotional health, sense of worth and respect, I learned to be stuck. I just got used to being trapped in the abuse and pain. But my body never liked it and I developed severe anxiety and depression which eventually lead to Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.
I have learned so much since then. Most of all I have learned to be kind to myself. To live like I am not scared. Even though, to be honest I still am, just a little. Sometimes more. But the fears no longer consume me. It has been years since I have stood frozen in a public place with sweaty palms and a quivering jaw.
I am able to walk up to church with great joy, rather than fearing rejection or harsh condemnation from the Pastor. My new Pastor is awesome. He is my friend. He respects me, believes in me and is kind. Teenagers is still a bit of a challenge. But I can smile at them and remind my older, wiser self, that they are young and giggle a lot. That's just what they do and will always do. Especially teen girls. It is not about me. I am ok and so are they. They are no longer my enemy. I am not as defensive or edgy.
So here's more hope to add to those like me who were the lowest of the low on the popularity chain. Your heart can heal. It really can. I will never forget the pain. Never. Honestly, there are still times I walk into a group of people and feel out of place and scared. Intimidated. Afraid I will be greeted with rejection and scornful faces. It happened just the other day at a church leaders meeting. My hands even got a little clammy. My fearful predictions barely happen though, not anymore. And I have learned to love myself even if they do.. But It is a new catapult for me to help others like you. Rather than it being a bondage that hold me back and keep my personality in chains.
Oh and another thing. I am on the ushers team at church! Would you believe it. SHY little old former me, now boldly stands at the front of church and welcomes people in. A LOT of people. I even hand out delicate communion trays and offering buckets to a crowd of people without shaky hands. Nothing spills or drops. Woohoooo. I give all the victory to God and very Godly, wise counselling!!
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