Hello my friends and a blessed Good Friday to you all. Today in my quest to heal CPTSD from a lifetime of narcissistic and dark tetrad parent abuse, I'm doing something different. And it feels weird and uncomfortable. And the responses I'm getting are unexpected and quite refreshing. What I'm doing is what I need, want and feel is right for me, not what others have dictated that I "should" do. Here's how.
As a Catholic I'd normally spend Good Friday, doing what is prescribed as penitential, fasting, sitting and kneeling at church all afternoon for Stations of the Cross and mass. I'd have gone to reconciliation multiple times. And I'd still be miserable, shame-tortured and confused. I've never done anything by halves. And when converting to Catholicism as an adult, I went into it with my whole heart and soul. But it never did anything to assuage the mountain ranges of trauma and shame. In some ways, it made them bigger and worse.
Am I saying the Church or Good Friday practices are wrong or bad for me? Absolutely not, for most people. I was wrong for them. And they were broken for me. I have lived my life in the chaotic, anxious, frightening, dangerous, unhealthy and unsafe spaces I was pushed into. This was caused by the malignant, selfish, arrogant, manipulative cruelty of four four dark tetrad parents. They have abused, neglected, abandoned, tortured, endangered, exploited, enslaved, enmeshed, scapegoated, parentified, invalidated, shamed and gaslit all my life. And worst of all, they did it in the name of God. They taught me a false God that was themselves.
So I don't fit in any form of religion or worship. I was made to completely contradict Bible teachings and worship other gods (my parents and their spouses) before the God. I was made to serve not two but four masters, none of whom was the God. I had to, in order to survive. So now, scripture, prayer, sacraments, everything is confusing to me because it all goes against what I was taught. And the most confusing thing of all is that they proclaim, loudly and proudly to be Christians. They tell others that they are ministers, teachers and leaders. They arrogantly tell others what to do. While behaving in and subjecting me to, very debauched, immoral and evil ways they preach against.
Let me just stop here and say, I know, every time I write this, that it sounds exaggerated. Maybe you think I've made it up. Maybe you don't. But the voices in my head sure do. You wouldn't be the first if you did. I was told all my life that I was too sensitive, paranoid, deceitful, arrogant, showing off, disobedient, angry, disloyal, a failure, etc. Which made any form of faith life baffling as hell too. I'm not swearing there. It is hellish. I wish I was making this up. I wish I was just exaggerating. I wish I didn't always feel and quite frankly, look, like a freak.
It isn't even a matter of believing, having faith, etc. I was told to put my faith in people who said this was obedience to God. I wish I had been more disobedient. I wish I'd rebelled. At least then I might have been able to discover the real God behind all this deception and chicanery. I didn't even do it for self-preservation. That flew out the window early on. I was in danger much more often than not. In fact, I didn't even learn fear. I got so used to be terror, shock, trauma, shame and self-loathing that I didn't know it from anything else. Like Eros says in Sherlock, "which one is pain?"
So where am I going with all this? What am I doing differently this Good Friday? I'm shutting out the shame voices and listening to what I believe is the real God speaking. Normally I would be sitting in church, in excruciating pain. Part of the abuse and neglect took the form of neck, spinal, joint and hip damage from enforced heavy labor and untended medical issues. I'd be sitting in confession trying to explain this to someone who has no rubric or protocol for dealing with the kinds of things I've lived. I'd leave feeling more hurt, ashamed and unloved than before (this is not the priest's or anyone in my now's fault).
So what I'm doing today, is sitting at home in a comfy chair, writing out my trauma. While my husband goes to confession and stations of the cross. This is what is right for him and doing what I'm doing seems like what's right for me. This is my confession. My prayer. My sacrifice. I offer up all the suffering over the years from dark tetrad abuse. And all the deadly and dysfunctional trauma responses it has created in me. I will join my husband for the parts I can. And which I can do without added trauma and pain.
Is it all about me? Yes, when it comes to choices I make for myself. I didn't think so but I do now. I never have and never will do anything willingly to hurt others. I don't know how. But I do know how to hurt myself. And I need to stop and start healing. So maybe my way of doing things looks wrong or different. Okay. So be it. It is right and healthy for me. And I believe that the God that was hidden from me wants me to do this too. If I'm wrong, I'll take it up with Him. I am told He loves me and I think that means He will be gentle if I got it wrong. At any rate, it feels better to do the "wrong" things for the right reason than "correct" things out of suicidal shame and misery.
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