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Name: Crystle
State: OK
Story:
Hearing that AvPD is the stepchild's disorder struck a definite cord. My
parents split when I was around 5 or so. I suspect that my mother tried to
retaliate against my cheating father in assuming child custody of myself and
my brother. She couldn't "handle" us though. Shortly after she moved us to
my grandfather's emu ranch 30 miles from the Mexican border in Arizona she
decided to ship us back to our hometown in southern California.
My mother's life was far more difficult than the one I have been privileged
enough to experience, she was seriously abused in a number of ways I cannot
relate to. Her inability to maternally nurture us seriously debilitated my
transition into adolescent girlhood. She remarried quickly and moved farther
away to Oklahoma. This obviously created a neglected child complex as I did
not understand why she could not live near us.
My father, an immigrant, has suffered much at the hands of cruel bigots in
his developing years in the US. His strict disciplinarian parents gave him a
rather aggressive model of child rearing; he only knew how his parents
raised him and attributed success to their model. Already facing horrible
feelings of abandonment, I was teased and chastised on a regular basis by my
brother, my father, the neighborhood kids, class mates and even other
relatives who referred to me as "fea" as a child. It was a horrible
revelation in high school Spanish class to learn the meaning of that world.
Ugly is not something I wanted to be labeled as.
I suffered much under the stress of a single parent household. As the oldest
child, I was frequently called into my fathers room to be yelled at,
something therapeutic for a hardworking single man, but emotionally
retarding nevertheless. The infraction usually has nothing to do with what
was really the problem. I eventually concluded that my brother and I were a
lot of trouble, and extremely inconvenient. My brother acted out by running
away, stealing things, and doing hard drugs. I coped by retreating inward,
smoking massive amounts of marijuana, drinking heavily when confronted with
social situations, and keeping people at a far distance. I would much rather
endure the solitude than to have to go through rejection. It is what has
worked.
Nevertheless, the ugly label stuck and it left an indelible impression on my
self-image.
Although my father gave me all the material things he could afford, we still
lived somewhat outside of our means, which frequently gave me false
expectations about our class. I always bordered upper and lower middle class
status. This ambiguity left me with a feeling of inferiority when my father
broke his back and I moved to Oklahoma to initially clear my head. Needless
to say, my mother would not allow my arrival unless I stayed an extended
period of time. I've been here four years, and the culture shock is still
debilitating. I cannot relate to any of the privileged white people around
me. This creates more frustration, and as such, I act out.
Although I maintain intimacy with my boyfriend, I am only doing so with the
expectation of marriage. I can't imagine that rug being pulled out from
under me. I would be devastated. But at the same time, I don't want to marry
him either, because the grief of mortality is too much to bear. I'd say I'm
somewhat dependent on his kind heart to give me self worth. If one person
that I care so much about loves me, I've got to be worth it right? Nope.
Its a false security. When I moved to Oklahoma, I kept gaining and gaining
weight. I ran into health problems like polycystic ovarian syndrome, and at
a later time had my gall bladder removed due to difficulties. I took active
control in turning my life around to my benefit. Sick of my life as the fat
girl, I lost 100 pounds over the course of 4 years. The compliments were
like whiskey on the gums of a teething baby, soothing. But the weight loss
is something that I'm rather embarrassed of now. My boyfriend didn't know me
as that fat girl, so I can't really determine whether or not he loves me for
me, or for that better body. I see the two as entirely different entities.
I've read that some people who suffer from AvDP have physically disfigured
characteristics. My body looks as though I've already had kids, and I'm only
21. He assures me that I'm beautiful religiously, but I'm forever skeptical.
For a good 12 years the world has told me how aesthetically displeasing, and
unwanted I was. I've been reborn as a woman, free to start fresh, but this
is one of the scariest prospects I face. I still believe there is a high
probability of rejection as I have not changed in psyche, although my body
has metamorphosed.
Recently, I punched my boyfriends high school friend in the face for no
particular reason. Stressed by the social setting of a cook out, I ruined
the Jenga game by knocking everything over deliberately. This definitely
played into the AvDP. I gave myself a reason for others to become annoyed
with me so that I had more justification in hating their presence. I
confronted the most passive aggressive one in the crowd. She provoked me in
ways my step-mother has done a number of times, and the lack of control in
the situations with parents has led me to condone more aggressive means of
problem solving with those who are not related.
Well, I did not understand why I was so upset by others opinions, and why I
could not bring myself to go to class or return phone calls. I am unable to
live with others as two failed attempts have devastated friendships. My
father always took drastic measures to discipline us, taking the stance of
"this could all be avoided if...". Thus, through my self-loathing cognition,
I sought to avoid social interactions with my peers.
As it is my understanding, those suffering from AvPD usually have very few
friends. Every year of college since I began I've faced debilitating
betrayal by those nearest me.
A friend broke up with his girlfriend and professed his love to me. A week
after sleeping with him, he went back to his girlfriend. I cannot stand the
prospect of running into either of them around town, even though they were
so dear to me.
Another friend had sex in my bed while on her period, destroying my bedding.
Her mate stole very expensive sunglasses. Salt in an open wound, to destroy
my bedding, then steal my sunglasses. To me its perfectly natural not to
want to associate with any peers as they've cause me so much grief. But it
gets worse.
This last Halloween, my boyfriend and I went to a party. The hostess was
kind throughout our guided tour of the home and the activities at hand, but
she stopped in the middle of the living room to introduce us to everyone as
"my ex-boyfriend, and his new girlfriend." I had no idea who she was, or why
we were there until that moment. I was already incredibly hesitant about
going out that night, I repeatedly asked why we were going there, who they
were, why I should care etc. etc. but while he did not lie, he did not
reveal the entire truth. My boyfriends deception caused the most painfully
awkward and humiliating experience I've endured in a long time. Affirming
and inflaming my suspicions of cruelty among my peers, the introduction was
all too much to endure, we left hurriedly, dejected and embarrassed. Others
tell me she may not have meant harm, but of course she did. I have AvDP, and
in my experience, people are cruel, manipulative, cold and calculating. My
boyfriend falsely led me to believe one thing, when in reality, it was
entirely another. This holiday season I totally ignored Thanksgiving and
stayed indoors drinking beer all day, glad to be alone and not suffering in
the company of my family. Also very lonely and bored, I refused to work on
school readings, and instead watched television for the entire break. It
makes life seem rather meaningless.
The tears are always hot when they stream down my anxious face. My
expressions are so honest that its no wonder throughout the years people
have inquired about my sadness.
I thought I was honestly going through some existential crisis, wherein I'd
have to determine whether or not life was absurd and whether or not suicide
was an option. Ultimately, I sought answers through medical articles. This
is how I appropriately diagnosed my gall-bladder sludge, so I expected to
find some answers in the research process. Reading the symptoms and causes
of AvDP was intense. I sobbed at how accurate the descriptions were. The
cloud of negativity that had hovered over me for the past few years had just
broken for a moment of clarity through the initial diagnosis. My gut twisted
with apprehension, because I knew it would take a lot of therapy to change
21 years of heinously negative cognitive thought.
So there IS something wrong with me, and I CAN fix it. This prospect alone
has left me much more optimistic about the future, although I am cracking
under the pressure of two jobs and a full time class schedule in college (I
reiterate, I am poor). I'm trying to get published, and I'm trying to get
into graduate school; if i fail, I feel I will be thrown into the real world
prematurely, and it could cause a serious regression. My last semester of
college will be spent in South America. For some reason this is an
attractive reward for years of oppression in consumer culture. I WILL be
anonymous in Peru, and honestly, if they hate me, I can almost certainly
attribute that to being a foreigner. To me its almost like going to the dog
pound, where all the creatures are dying to be your best friend.
I want nothing more than anonymity when i actually get out of bed. I talk to
as few people as necessary in the course of my day, and depend greatly on my
boyfriend for support. He's patient and loving, but as a patient with AvDP,
I fear I will eventually be rejected as he gradually loses patience.
I hope therapy helps me gain some self-worth, and helps me eliminate my
fixed fantasies. I just want to function normally in society, not to feel
the weight of the entire world on my shoulders. Judgment is a constant fear.
To me, the thoughts of others, although not usually explicated, are almost
always centered on my shortcomings. Nobody around me has private thoughts, I
place the harshest possible criticisms in their head, then hate them for
thinking that (or not).
I advise others in my situation to talk to a professional, no matter how
inconvenient the trip may be, it will be worth it. And don't let
psychiatrists discount the sincerity if your negativity, they might dismiss
AvDP as a normal defensive mechanism against emotional harm, but to us it's
so much more than that. It keeps me in bed for prolonged periods of time,
and leads me to believe that television is an accurate portrayal of the vast
majority of society; everyone is a firm bodied hater.
One day at a time everyone.
C.
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