Clairee Belcher: That which does not kill us, makes us stronger.
my good friend marc left a comment on yesterdays post which i decided merited a response. i don't usually respond to peoples' comments as i think that they deserve to have their own life. but i did have a reaction to his comment about being overboard, and so any readers can be certain, i actually spoke with him directly about my position. we had a lovely and heartwarming conversation and that inspired me to directly respond with a post as well.
marc believes that many times i skirt around issues in my posts, especially my own feelings and focus more on the process and that this tendency leaves the reader in the fog a bit about the specifics of the things i talk about. he indicated that in earlier posts he understood to some degree that i felt betrayed and hurt, but after our talk, indicated that he really had no indication to what degree or to what depth these feelings cut.
so i will try to respond to this today in a more well-rounded fashion and see if i can express my position with less detachment, so the reader can understand a bit more clearly what it's like inside my head (ooooh scary thought).
i grew up an only child in a small town in illinois in a single parent family in the early 60's. when i was about 10 years old, i had sexual interactions with a few boys from my neighborhood upon their suggestion. after this took place, these boys told most of the other boys in their junior high school which then had a ripple effect to most of the boys in the town within a 5 or 6 year range of age.
i became the subject of verbal ridicule in public and got the fantastic nickname of the "pillsbury blowboy" which would always be followed by laughter. this horrified me, honestly, and left me feeling betrayed and also believing that my actions had inspired their actions and that i deserved this treatment. i also came to believe that i was damaged and different than everyone else, and that if i trusted boys that they would betray me. mind you, i had already been sexually molested by a male babysitter when i was in the first grade, but i have really blocked most of that out. i used to have horrible sexually inappropriate dreams during primary school years.
but the breach of secrecy this time was traumatic for me. i shouldered it all by myself, as i was too humiliated to discuss it with anyone. it also led me to believe that all boys really wanted from me was sexual relations of some sort, because i came to be accosted on many occasions after that by local boys when no one else was around a little like a whore. most times i complied because i thought that was how it was suppose to be, and that i, indeed, was a queer and this is how queers behaved. subsequently, at any time, i could be approached by some silly bully looking to cause trouble and have to deal with it without much defense. at many times, i was filled with terror and self-hatred but felt trapped. by the time i was 13, i was getting high as often as i could, because that blocked out all these self-deprecating thoughts and beliefs, at least temporarily. my family moved when i was in 9th grade, but the patterns were already ingrained, and my self-loathing and self-medication tendencies were part of my psychological makeup.
as is customary with trauma survivors, i would re-create the trauma and add more traumas repeatedly throughout my lifetime. and my handling (definitely oxymoron) would always be the same- get loaded and not think about it or talk about it.
fast forward to 4 years or so ago when i was trying to get clean. the traumas were part of the last using stories, but i had also become heart weary of throwing away everything in order to forget. it wasn't working anymore.
i returned to denver and sought counseling in a treatment clinic and began my journey to sobriety. i had many difficulties in trusting my counselor and my psychiatrist early on. they were both men, and frankly i was still only half-believing men when they said anything. but i did finally let my guard down, and trusted one counselor. he was flawed certainly, but since i was at the top of that list, it was hardly anything i held against anyone. and having been referred to a mental health professional through him, and then switching to another professional after that, i was able to let down some of guard, put down my defense, and began my work on healing.
my counselor faded in and out of my life periodically as the next year or so went by. he would call me every 4 or 5 months out of the blue and ask me to take a job as a client advocate (working with people with HIV/AIDS) as i had been so diligent in advocating for myself through the maze of treatment requirements and agencies in order to secure the types of services that i needed. for some reason after about a year of waiting tables at a restaurant at the airport (my feet were tired) i acquiesced. i interviewed with a small agency and got hired on the spot. it was so easy and validated me in miraculous ways. my counselor had indicated that we would be working together and that was one of the reasons i took the positions.
funny- he left his position 2 weeks after i started. i remember feeling a bit abandoned, but the job change had been made. actually, i worked both jobs for over a year, as the advocacy position was only 32 hours and i still had big amends bills to pay.
well, the job became a beautiful part of me. it was "giving back" in ways i had never dreamed possible. i had been poz for almost 20 years then, and never realized that all i had survived could have such value for others, or that the empathy that i naturally feel for others could open a golden door of hope and inclusion for people who were struggling just as much, if not more, than i ever had. i was enjoying life. i was beginning to succeed.
i got a call from my former counselor, indicating that he had been hearing great things about me. he was going to be leaving his big city job and becoming the executive director of a substance use clinic and wanted me to work on developing a treatment program for gay men, poz and not, with crystal meth addictions. well, it seemed more of the same, and a little too good to be true, so i agreed. i left my airport job, and worked for his agency part time, while i worked at my advocacy job 32 hours a week, and did networking, research, handshaking, etc. i had already taken my CAC (certified addictions counselor)classes and i began an internship. i joined the planning council for the mayor's office of hiv resourses after an invitation from one of the office's staff.
grants were written, a rather revealing local newspaper article(see some public candor in sidebar) was published at my old counselor's request, and i was on my way to giving back in a bigger way.
when the first grant monies were received, i decided to work less hours and concentrate on just one activity. i left the advocacy position, and went to the agency full time. 2 weeks in, on a sunday, i came home from a day in the mountains, to five voice mails on my phone from my new boss (old counselor). each one was creepier that the former. basically, they were demanding that i call right away, initially, followed by chastisements because i obviously had made other decisions, demanding my resignation, my keys, it was smarmy. i shared those messages with a few people in my life. i felt dirty and totally creeped out.
the next day i got several phone calls from my boss apologizing for the behaviors in the guise of whiny but sad messages. here is a definite character flaw for me- i so wanted to work on this program that i had developed, that i pushed past these red flags in order to get what i wanted. this is something i am still learning about myself.
but i digress- so 2 months ago, when that nasty email came across my desk, i sat starting it for about a half hour, because i recognized the screeching tone in the letter. it was that same voice from the smarmy and inappropriate voicemails of the previous summer. i couldn't believe that someone i had trusted so much would do this under a false identity. but as i continued to study the email, i realized it contained personal treatment information, such as where i received my mental health treatment. this is a particular item that i don't really discuss much, certainly not much publicly. yet, there was the agency's name in print and the name of the program which helped me get back on my feet. this solidified my suspicions. my old counselor would certainly know these intimate details. and he would certainly know the specific players' names and email addresses to which it was addressed. and it was most like a response to a conversation we had 3 days prior, while he was under the influence of something, regarding a public recognition for some of the work that we had been involved in. but his name was not mentioned in the said recognition, and i believe that bullshit that petty is what may have caused all this. that and his love of mixing prescription meds with alcohol.
so now, here is where i address marc's concerns. it is not the job or loss thereof that created so much drama for me at all. i am consistently a hard worker, i am tenacious, i am talented, and i am capable and will no doubt work again.
no, no, no. what happened to me, was that this crushing breach of trust by someone i had believed in that brought all those old feelings back. i felt that i could trust no one again. i felt that i somehow deserved this. i felt that this is what my life is. i felt ripped open. i felt totally exposed and vulnerable. i have been afraid to be around people because they are all talking about me and laughing. and i felt that i was on my own, and i had nowhere to find refuge. and i know in my heart that all the angst and anger i have felt, have really been about the first betrayal, and then the subsequent ones, more than it was about this clown's psychotic behavior. and i haven't had the luxury before of working through any of these feelings sober. in fact, the garden party i blogged about last weekend is a prime example. it was full of gay men in recovery, yet i found myself flooded with old feelings of being separate and disdained. i have always gotten fucked up when i felt this emotional dark hole. when my best friend died and within a month i tested positive that hole appeared, and i stayed loaded for almost 2 years. when i got mugged in chicago by 4 men and raped when i was 16, i got loaded to deal with the pain. it's like a dark hole that i crawl into mindlessly because i was trapped there so long and it feels comfortable, even though it so painful at the same time.
a sober approach to "feeling" is new to me. it's recovery, but a different sort. i don't think it's too drastic to call what i experienced ptsd. i think it appropriate. there is trauma in my background. the feelings are primal. and i actually think just testing hiv positive alone is trauma in its own right. not just an everyday life experience.
yes marc, i have felt very angry about the situation with my old counselor/boss. i have felt that he solicited me, greased me up, bent me over, and fucked me. and i have hated it. someone in a position of trust and authority might be expected to support their client or their employee and respect some confidentiality, as opposed to manipulating the clients vision in order to strip mine their talents and energy only to leave things torn up and in a mess when they have exhausted the perceived value. the anger really doesn't serve me though (there's another story about anger) and the good news here, i am working through this. this seems to be a pattern in my life, and i am taking notice. i have no regrets. i consider all this a blessing and a path for me to work through much of this old shit. i am healing. i am laughing and i am moving forward. and i am writing about it, because it helps me, and it may just help someone else.
