Thursday, July 20, 2017

Why I move so fast in the kitchen

Yesterday, my therapist and I got onto a topic of why I find myself rushing around in my kitchen. My husband has pointed out that I move way too fast while I'm doing things in the kitchen and so has my daughter. I never really understood why I do this or even recognizing that I do this. My therapist is amazing and is like a detective. She goes off what I start to say and has me back up and review my thought on what I am remembering.  Yesterday I told her that there's a part of me that hates being in my kitchen while other parts of me consider the kitchen my favorite place to be in my house. I love cooking and having family gathered around the table. I started going through memories and time frames in my life. Pardon my language but there was a shit ton of trauma done to me in kitchens more than any other room in every house I've lived in. Instead of trying to write detailed memories of each event I am just going to list things that have come up in my rumination of past crap. 

  • My first memory of kitchen trauma was when I was around 2 or 3. My dad had come home from someplace and my Aunt was babysitting me. I was running up to him saying, "Daddy, Daddy, Daddy! in a child's excitement to see my parent. His response? A backhand that sent me flying into a wall, hitting the back of my head as he says, "Get the hell out of my way." 
  • Seeing my Mom being beaten by my Dad in the kitchen as my little body tried pulling him off  her and ended up getting the beating in return.
  • Being hit and kicked and called "stupid", "retarded", idiot" and more for not understanding my math homework being done at the kitchen table at the age of 7. This happened over the years and always done in the kitchen.
  • Being ridiculed for making sounds while eating and having my food scraped onto the floor and being made to eat the food on the dirty floor on my hands and knees while having to make oinking sounds. Kicks to the ribs if I wasn't oinking enough.
  • Being raped on almost a daily basis by and old man named Squirrely after school every day at the age of 8 and 9. I went to my Mom constantly for soreness and itching in my vaginal area only to have her rub Lanocain on it. She never took me to a doctor for this and it was chronic. I am sure she knew something but was afraid to do anything about it.
  • Being hit in the face and having my face shoved into the kitchen sinks sideways as my Mom poured liquid soup into my mouth because I wore mascara to school in 5th grade. 
  • Being forced to eat huge plates of food by my Dad and if I began to gag or vomit he would shovel more food into my mouth and put his hand over my mouth. If I threw up before he could do so I would be fed my vomit or have my face rubbed it it.
  • When I was 4 years old I was curious about what a hot pepper was and my Dad gave me one and forced me to eat the whole thing as I cried and gagged from the heat. My Grandma was angry with him and tried to intervene but he wouldn't stop. Later my Grandpa let my Dad have it.
  • Being made to sit on my knees with my back straight up against a wall in the kitchenfor eating something I wasn't supposed to eat when I was in kindergarten. The more I struggled the longer I was forced to sit like this.
  • Dishes and glasses being thrown in the kitchen when fights with my parents broke out.
  • Doing the dishes in 6th grade and the sink was full and my hands were submerged to my elbows. My Dad is leaving the room and tells me, "Don't go anywhere" and me making the mistake of being snarky responding with, "Where would I even go right now?" He ran at me and threw me against the kitchen pantry door and punching my head. My shirt got torn and he was telling me I had better never talk back to him again. Afterward he sewed my shirt and told me if I told anyone he'd kill me.
  • Being raped in high school in a kitchen 
This isn't everything. These are from memories given to me by others inside throughout the past. There are more but I am getting super nauseous right now and feeling a bit un-grounded. I will listen to my body clues and stop with making this list.

It is beginning to make sense to me why I rush around. I may be okay with the kitchen but there are those inside who are not. I sense their feelings and take them on. I'm basically hurrying up what I need to do so I can get out of there. Another thing making sense to me is why I do not want people to help me when I am cooking in the kitchen. This is the one area in my life when I feel like I am in complete control. I don't want anyone helping me, advising me on how I should do things and so on. It's my personal space to have control. I am going to start working on noticing my hurried behavior and come up with ways to calm my inside system. I know some people do not understand how going through all this past stuff is beneficial to me but I am telling you that it is extremely important to remove all waste from the mind. It's a gross analogy but it can be compared to constipation but of the mind. Just as you must eliminate toxins from your colon to be healthy you must also eliminate toxins from your past junk in your memory banks. If you don't get therapy and guidance and do this for yourself you will remain sick just as if you let your colon remain constipated. It's toxic, it's gross and it's unhealthy.

I have been in therapy most of my life. There is no magical period for me to be healed. It is an ongoing process. I can tell you that when I look at the 20-year-old Sherry versus the 49, almost 50 Sherry, I see huge progress in growth and attitude and strength. Yes, my past still hurts and I have my days where I get angry and sad about it. Yet, I will not allow my past abusers to continue to rent space in my head. I am evicting them all and feeling darn good about it. The past will always be yucky to talk and think about but the more I talk about it the less painful it becomes and the better I feel. I will get through this kitchen struggle just as I have other struggles. I never know what is coming up with my inside system so it helps me to blog, talk, cry, and do whatever I need to do to move forward in my life.

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