I have watched law and order since I was 3 years old. No joke. The people in my life who know me intimately joke about the fact that watching law and order from such a young age warped my mind. I don’t think that it warped my mind. It probably didn’t help the warping situation, but I don’t think any blame can actually be assigned to the show itself.
I was watching SVU last night before I went to bed. I remember before I fell asleep I turned to my fiancé and told him, I’m going to have nightmares. He told me to change the channel, i gave him the remote and fell asleep.
I had nightmares.
I don’t really blame law and order for giving me nightmares.
In all honesty, it’s been a rough couple of weeks relative to the general roughness that seems to constantly plague my existence. My sister popping up always dredges up so many emotions and memories that I put series time, effort, and psycho self torture into detaching from and compartmentalizing. I think its because I get so angry. I get angry and the walls in those neat little compartments just come crashing down and then dissolve away and then there is just a big mishmosh of jennimazky emotional baggage goo. Boo.
I basically had a shit childhood. Whatevs. I’m basically over it now. Or at least…I have effectively detached and compartmentalized from that whole situation. But, intellectually, I know that I had a shit childhood. And, yeah, it has effected me. It has ‘warped’ me. Law and order has always been a solace. It’s a place where people always had it just as bad as me.
I had nightmares and my mother was the villain. She was the antagonist. She was the absolute worst version of herself that she could ever be. All Id all the time. And it was her in that role in scenes replayed from my childhood, except I was who I am now (which is an adult, I guess). I was still completely powerless to change anything (which is probably a reflection of the fact that I quit on therapy because that shit is for real expensive and I refuse to deal with anything from back then; hence the detachment and compartmentalization and the ‘depersonalization disorder’ that’s written at the bottom of a long list of things that are ‘wrong’ with me). But I woke up hating my mother. Seething hot hatred flowing through my veins for the woman that gave me life.
Now, to put it straight, my mother is not the sole reason that my childhood was about as light as a sack of hammers. She wasn’t a bad mother. As much of what happened to me was completely out of her control and logically…I don’t hold her responsible. But, when I’m honest with myself, I know I harbor incredible levels of resentment toward her. I wish I didn’t. But I don’t know if that’s something that can go away. It’s so deep down in there…it’s something that I’ve felt for…ever. I wish I didn’t feel this way.
I get depressed. Life is…insanity. Constantly. And when I’m not depressed..I’m…not any better. It’s just a funner version of worse. I specialize in detachment. Compartmentalizing. I’m really good at becoming numb to a situation. Or forgetting it completely. Which is funny. Me, eidetic memory, there are things that I had previously forced myself to forget. I still like to leave those things in boxes, filed away, to never be looked at. Usually someone just knocks them off the shelf and I catch glimpses as I try to shove the contents back inside before putting it back in its place.
But…my sister brings me back. Even though she was barely involved. It’s just a reminder. She reminds me of where I came from, and, what’s happened. It makes my head spin.
I’m rambling at this point.
jennimazky 