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[IT'S NOT THE REAL TRUTH!]

The ugly truth is...I can't forgive myself. For things I don't even know was my fault in any way, shape, or form. I had some horrible things done to me, and yet I fell into blaming myself for so many of them--the 'if only...if only I'd done this, that, or the other' response took over. Fine, that only exacerbated the whole mess. Then I spent so much time trying to understand the abusers,but I'd already absorbed so much shame from them that I turned it on myself.

I'd like to say that's over with, as I've tied myself in pretzels trying to turn this around. What an awful loop to be trapped in. I've tried re-framing what's even meant by forgiveness, but it never seems to alleviate this trait of self-blame. If someone looks at me (this can be from a huge distance), I assume 1)something's wrong; and 2)it's my fault. Including if the person is smiling! I just don't know what trust is; never had it, how would I know? I've tried to 'just trust' and felt burned as often as it panned out. Then I blame myself for not knowing what I couldn't have been expected to know. 

It's along the lines of what traps we weave for ourselves. The expectation of something going wrong is pandemic with me. That's often the first thing that comes to mind; the next is that I'll mess up, do something that will tip the scale, then berate myself for a lengthy period. Sometimes it dawns on me, this self-blame where none is deserved; then it actually helps if I can laugh at myself. Sounds cruel, but laughing is only one step from crying; gallows humour, I suppose.  None of which helps, but it does comfort...a bit...'til next time...next guilt trip. Usually over nothing. I must be sickly attached to them; what a sorry mess is all I feel, over and over. If time heals, my clock remains stuck.

I don't even need the presence of another person for this--it's like I walk around permanently enclosed in a self-blame bubble. No person around? Maybe I'm lonely. If I am, surely it's my fault. It all builds and never goes away. 

It's the ugly truth, this self-blame leading to self-hate. Here's the worst part of the ugly truth--it may indeed be ugly but IT'S NOT THE REAL TRUTH! I know that, am getting better at recognizing it, and yet catch myself making 1,001 excuses for why the abusers did what they did right up to people who I feel wronged by today. It's horribly odd how I reach for some way to tolerate them, but I have zero tolerance for me.

Whatever will help, seems to last such a short time, then the loop closes once more. What a sickening prospect; a shame/blame game where I end up needing to forgive myself when I've done nothing worthy of such self-spite. As tiring as the blame trip are all the words, mantras, affirmations, etc.; the whole bit trying to dig out of the avalanche.

Blame--there, that's what I want to cut from my list of overdone words. Even blaming the abusers calls them to mind, when all I want is to cut all ties to them, memories included. Or when a memory pops in, to brush it aside as a useless time's done phenomenon instead of something that bids to destroy me now. Walking away from the blame game might even have a double benefit--no forgiveness word to get in the way, just put back in the box of pain, and left there. Then...bury the box; better yet--burn it.

I just want to be free. It's all that motivates me anymore. One caveat left--instead of thinking of freedom as a something-to-come future prospect, I'm sensing that I have a quicker fix--inside me. No blame there, just a willingness to allow self-blame to become self-love via self-compassion. Reminds me of the time my therapist stopped me and remarked: "you've said something good about yourself--congratulations!"

I live a half-hour's drive from an interesting place, one which if approached in a relaxed but mindful way, can provide a sort of tactile/meditative experience that can calm and still the mind's incessant turmoils. It was built by a couple interested in sharing something unique and meaningful, an experience that they wanted to share with anyone who comes across its relatively remote location.

Their creation is an outdoor labyrinth, basically a very large circular walking path placed within a forest clearing. While the concept of a labyrinth was once associated with European cathedrals, the origins of labyrinths in fact stretch way back in time and versions were found in many cultures.

At this one, the natural peaceful surroundings are supplemented with Tibetan prayer flags and bells punctuating the normal forest sounds of birds and soft breezes. The couple even built a small hermitage cabin so people can stay there overnight if desired. 

The labyrinth's walking course is laid out with a narrow, small rock-delineated pathway which the walker follows. It's similar to a maze in that you enter and leave at a designated spot. Unlike mazes there's a central destination point in the labyrinth; in this case a huge rock (symbolic of great spirit or wise self or god or some higher power--inner or outer). While mazes can trap you, labyrinths are entered, experienced, and left again. A key to walking the labyrinth is patience--you can see the intended destination, but can't get there directly; the path thus takes dedication to make it to the center and back out again.

Sounds simple and sure--just a giant circular hiking path, but the kicker is that the pattern is broken up with dead-ends, twists, and switchbacks formed by the path, which seemed smooth and easy when you started; but soon you wonder if you'll ever reach that giant rock in the center. The setbacks aren't obvious until one is right on top of the path's turning points. No solid wall prevents your escape, but it's compelling to gather up the strength to make it all the way in, and out.

So what's this got to do with cptsd? If it's not already obvious, walking a labyrinth can be a voiceless but mindful, meditative way of finding one's route through life's unexpected grief and setbacks, where even the simplest path can seemingly go so wrong again. While I've walked this path alone, I've also noticed in groups that certain people can be overcome when they let go and let the message of the trail speak its own wisdom.

It's...different and--if taken on with the right frame of mind--therapeutic. In recent years there's been several of these built around the world. Although they're often considered 'spiritual', whatever that loaded term means nowadays, I've found them unique in how they can reset the mind by imitating life's journey, complete with those unexpected obstacles. In my mind the course's obstacles  can show as real memories, but I'm especially struck by how the experience resembles emotional flashbacks. Even when life seems settled down again, sure enough comes another detour--maddening, sad, and tiring. Picking up the pieces seems like starting over yet again, a desperate stab at stability, discouraging but somehow one plods on.

Yet here's the key--there's always a way around, and through, to the center, when you find the trail again (usually right at your feet, almost invisible). If you've ever walked a labyrinth, perhaps you've experienced the same phenomenon--it's a visual/tactile experience that speaks volumes if approached with one's heart open. It instills its wisdom and hope without a word being uttered. For me, someone given to words and reading especially, that meant a lot.

It speaks to something I've been slow to learn--that love (universal if not personal) surrounds and embraces us, if we can muster up the patience and self-compassion until we find our trail again. 'Stay the course' takes on meaning as one walks the labyrinth and finds their peace again. In that sense this sort of experience takes on far more than mere symbolism.

In searching so hard and so long, sometimes I feel overwhelmed at all the information now available. By the same token, I thrive on finding calm, relaxing but relevant approaches to working with and through cptsd.

This may sound like just mind candy, and the downside is when it plummets into yet more depression from where I already am. That's where safety comes in, one of the many topics explored in this panel discussion. I felt safe watching these speakers calmly but knowingly delve into the depths of lots of things, but especially the body aspect when trauma settles in and creates havoc within.

A lot of these sorts of presentations descend into redundant promos of this or that sure fix or approach to the promised land of peace and tranquility. That's where experience can make a difference, even in 'bad' stuff we're all familiar with. The presenters here have all walked the talk in one way or another. All are now on the other end of things; using what they've learned in helping others via various compassionate ventures they're involved with. While they mention some of these, their main focus returns to the point of what is trauma, how does it envelop the body (I'm only now warily understanding how "the body keeps the score" as one author put it).

The panel includes Richard Miller, Scott Kiloby, Russ Hudson, moderated by Julie Tau. Some on this forum are familiar with Miller's programs on incorporating yoga nidra into trauma work. They are presenting this at the annual conference known as SAND (Science and Nonduality). For those wondering, nonduality is found in all religious/spiritual approaches in one form or another. The basic premise of nonduality is that we're all one;  nice concept but the difference here is these people are more interested in how to live it than merely talk.

However, talk is where we can begin to pick up the pieces. Despite the over an hour discussion, I found myself absorbed in the easy flow between the presenters. They comfortably pack quite a bit of material in, but as I said before it's not heavy, and mixes well the background of the how and why with what can we really do in these daily lives of ours. 


The link:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ErrQ9O4CB5E

From a time as a teen when my spirits hit rock bottom to where even fairly recently, suicidal thoughts have ridden not far beneath the surface during my fragile times when hope seems lost. It got to the point where I got rid of obvious temptations like sharp knives though I had other non-object methods.

There were huge periods in life when I thought I'd ridden past the s temptations, but it still seems to hover over everything. Even though I found an extremely good therapist, in my opinion, well even that played tricks on me--ranging from I don't deserve anything good from any of this and I'm so sick of thoughts that revisit like they won't let me go until...

Something else, when starting this round of therapy a couple of years ago--I was determined not to slide back like I'd always done, but stick with even the hardest parts, which seemed inevitable. But even with the regard I hold for this therapist, I found that rubbing up against the issues that made me suicidal in the past were tantamount to re-igniting the possibility yet again.

My therapist recognized this, and gently brought me back each time. Not in a pressure way at all, but allowing me to find my way past the pain short of the suicidal option. One day she suggested that I pause, take some moments, and consider committing to somehow not consider that option for a time period...a week, three months, etc.; whatever felt right for me. I could think about it, as seemed likely given where I'd been. She let the suggestion filter for a bit; then I decided, just before that session ended, that yes, I'd commit to 3 months, risking the notion that my life was indeed worthwhile. That little suggestion of hers to commit has made an enormous difference.

We still 'renew' occasionally; the times the s notions float in seem less, but can still happen; yet they seem more distant all along. I've made a bit of a ritual now--when I'm due. She doesn't remind me; it's my doing, this choice for life, and she's careful to consider my personal power in re-setting my own directive to live. Nowadays it's usually a simple observance where I bring a candle and use it in a kind of renewal commitment, incorporating an eagle-puppet she gave me that carries special symbolism for me. Even though I currently do this with a therapist's help, I'd encourage anyone to re-commit to life as best they can. In my case the slight ceremony elevates the intent above mere thought.

So that's what I do now...commit to life via these renewal 'contracts' with my therapist, plus things I do beyond the therapy; after all, that's where any of this new direction will be acted on--this choice for life. It's helped me strengthen my ability to believe her when she tells me what she sees in me that really does make me feel that yes, I have worth, and can use my deep empathy and other traits in ways that I've always done, even when I didn't recognize what a positive effect I was having. Inner critic has also, in this process, has lost a lot of the power I'd given away to it. While I credit my therapist in the most recent re-framing of this, I think I'm at a point too where I feel what she says I'm also realizing independently, on my own; that I do have value in this broken world.

I wrote the following in the 'cafe' section of this forum once; though I guarded the s word from being glaringly obvious, it was there. Anyway, what I said there still holds so I'll repeat it:

Oct. 1, 2016... "Today I'm forever grateful for my therapist. She stayed with and gently, patiently laid out a challenge, allowing but also guiding me to find a way past a recent extreme crisis situation. ...Honestly, words can never express what that means in my heart as I  rediscover life, and along with it rekindle the withering flame of hope from having nearly been  extinguished."

That flame still holds, and is precious. Thank you for listening.

I've experienced a wide variety of therapists--one (my first) quite good, some at the opposite spectrum, others of a middling sort, and an outstanding one (my current T). Kind of representative of people in general, I suspect.

There is no one-size fits all, IMO, but several promising options are now on the horizon. Still it seems to work best with compassion, trust, and creativity as the building-blocks; not a mere formula that suits everyone. In my jaded opinion, it takes a savvy therapist to set that sort of tone, and it truly is an art.

So my own view tilts towards therapy as being a science-informed art form/combo. I've never found or heard of a purely scientific approach with a 100% success rate for such a highly-charged emotional condition as cptsd; although I suppose it's entirely possible. But the difference seems to lie in those therapists who can first, take you as you are, and work with you in devising ways to get to the plus side of the therapy ledger, whatever the means used to extract a forward pattern.

My bias is obvious--I think of therapy as an art form, but fused with scientific observations too; people skills matter when dealing with fragile emotions. But without using a modicum of science, therapy can also deteriorate into opinionated mush mostly geared to the therapist, not the client. Going too far to the scientific side risks hitting the trap of one size fits all thinking, though; finding the balance seems as important, if not more so, than any particular set of data or techniques.

There's one more danger becoming more prevalent these days, however, and it often seems almost invisible; but left to run its course it could ruin therapy for lots of people. I'm speaking of the growing evidence that the insurance industry and its governmental partners are becoming the main drivers behind available treatment options. Just like in the medical field, they can influence and/or steer an individual therapist's options. Something to be wary of.

So that's one viewpoint, favouring the artistry of blending what's known with a creative edge based on what best serves people as if they matter, and not as specks on a chart. When and if the latter ever became the norm, we might as well trade in the notion of client for that of robots in a system said to serve people but with one glaring flaw--they forgot the people part.

Okay. Any thoughts?

Just ran into this youtube channel, and so far like its original, creative but sensible takes on a variety of issues that concern many of us with cptsd.

Here's a small sample of his offerings from his emotional healing perspective:

...Dealing With a Narcissist..
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ipTlosTt3y8

...Shame...https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j67O34fMlHQ

...Self-sabotage...
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Sz5Q8qdDMb0&t=36s

Lots more that looks interesting and informative; all delivered in an easygoing, almost understated style. He also shows a subtle to wildly humourous and satirical approach with some of his other videos (tip: if he's wearing his headband, odds are it's one of his satires ). As he readily admits, he feels it's important to balance the serious with some fun.

I sometimes tend to view each therapy session as a means to shed some negative things that have happened recently and/or are ongoing. While I have an extremely compassionate and wise therapist, sometimes it's as if I come to regard her opinion as superior to my own. This sort of thing might indeed be helpful at first, but once in place it can be hard to knock the therapists's pedestal over, or at least reduce its height.

Almost always my current T skillfully deflects this notion but that can still linger, enhancing this notion of making the therapist into a mechanic who will fix what's wrong for me. As noted, I'm lucky in that she herself resists that and points out my tendency to do that. Before, though, I'd had quite a few T's that, almost absentmindedly, took on the role of problem-solver and advice-giver, confusing the exchange process with the I-know-what's-best-for-you approach. This sort of thing can do just that, and often does to the point of creating reliance on the process dynamics that then come to define the relationship and reinforce the notion that the therapist is apart from the process and therapy becomes a top-down sort of business/medical transaction.

It's not so much about finding a way around this, perhaps, as it is tamping expectations that the 'other' has all the answers. That's tempting, and it involves some careful self-observation skills to navigate through to the crux of therapy--enhancing relief from the inside out. That usually does involve time, as the client's first cry is often a desperate plea for help. Eventually, though, one hopes that one's own power and trust can be boosted to the point of appreciating their own capacity to incorporate the T's insights, then grow from that.

This is far trickier than it seems. I'm currently in a situation where one of my 'strengths' seems to not be working. The temptation is to throw what's not working for her to figure out, as the pedestal is still partially up. I'm amazed at how patiently she brings me back to consider some things she might observe, but nudges me back to consider my own strengths as well in working with the current difficulty. Often she sees my strengths before I do, and that's okay; the kicker comes when I resist, want to give up trying, and let all the old baggage of 'not good enough; stupid; incapable, etc.' re-emerge and threaten to overwhelm.

Therapy, at least if one sincerely desires better outcomes that matter in one's own life, becomes a full-time job. While that's depressing--taking on an increased stress load on top of the rest--I find that if I don't regard it that way the hope for meaningful improvement turns to mud.

I have a favourite song with this line in it: "so dancers, join hands in the two-way waltz, but take all the steps on your own." In a therapeutic relationship, it seems very apropos--two are needed, but the dance only starts and sustains itself with those individual steps.   

"Eight of the ten things you have decided about yourself at the age of twenty will, over time, prove to be false. The other two things will prove to be so true that you'll look back in twenty years and howl."
--Cheryl Strayed

This is packed with resonance for me. I refer to my list as the 'Graveyard of Lost Illusions'. In my case, the biggest hurdle with what we decided about ourselves at age 20 turns out to be its dogged persistence, even decades after. While I haven't laid out precisely what all the ten things are (they're painful enough), I think I know the two that persist.

One trait I seem to have swallowed whole is a deep feeling of being unloved, unwanted, and unworthy. Just as I was beginning to rise above the shame and guilt of my first 20 years, I seemed to encounter more setbacks. Beyond mere lack of self-esteem, it feels like having survived being pushed off a cliff, without a firm foothold from which to begin the climb back out. Now what?

Now it seems like a lifetime is stuck in this 'can't get out' frustration. Some call this recovery, although if you can name it you probably aren't at the depths; where all descriptions fail and you hope you have enough strength just to keep on some trail--any trail--that might not be as dangerous as was the first, with its memories haunting you still. Even if you've come to realize it wasn't your fault, logic never seems to overcome the emotional overload.

Another trait I seem to have held onto is avoidance, especially anything involving relationships. In essence, I remain scared--frightened to reach out, tentative to ask for anything from anyone, unsure of why they would choose to help me, sure they don't like me to begin with (even when what they say runs counter to that; even--gulp--if they say they love me).

I feel like I'm in a bubble, or an iceberg, all the time; or with a paper sack over my head, to better hide my shame at needing others. Because others always let me down; and I can't shake that feeling. On an intellectual level, I sense it's probably untrue, but I just can't seem to fully trust, either. Without, anyway, feeling exhausted just by the thought of trying to trust. The biggest struggle is finding the gumption to ever try again.

Anyone else? What were your illusions and what, perhaps, still dogs your every step to the point where, like Strayed says: "you'll look back in twenty years and howl."?
:   

***Triggering word used***

This is just my need to vent some, more than anything. Just another example about how something seemingly uneventful to someone else can set off feelings suddenly and explosively, like a bolt of lightning.

Yesterday I was at an MD's office for some minor issues. There were very few people in the place, a fairly large one; but nice and quiet yesterday. Then I was called to the exam room and escorted to it by a nurse.

Going down the hallway there was an open door, with a fellow sitting near the opening. As I was about to enter the exam room down from where he was, he yelled out, in a joking tone,..."Hey, you pervert," I stumbled as soon as that word was uttered, and when I turned in his direction, his weirdly cheerful response was "oh, from the back you look just like my perv friend such-and-such."

All I could do was kinda look past him and mutter something, I'm not sure what; but I was too stunned to properly respond (proper? no such thing). The nurse got me to my room...and I just burst out crying. She said she'd have had the same response had someone said that to her. The fellow hadn't even seen me, just from the back, and he lets his words rip, joyfully even.

Once in the room, well...I was left there, alone, for a long time before the MD arrived...which worsened things; alone in a cramped space, just like where stuff used to happen to me. The wait seemed to stretch on and on.

Not a big deal? It's 24 hours later and I'm still having a hard time with this. Not surprisingly the blood pressure reading was off the charts, but the MD helped soothe me a little. As I explained to her, who would address a stranger like that...I'd been abused badly by p......ts when a kid, etc. and that moment fell like I'd fallen into some weird cave with this leering guy repeating his word (for his friend?

Nothing new, I'm sure, for many (too many) here. This is mostly just the need to further vent that I even post it. It's horrible when I think that there's no place of safety; even a 'care-giver' place like a doctor's office can hold something that throws you. I've been working hard to shed my fear of strangers and then this happens. 

Fear seems to envelop my every action; then it filters into thought, where it's conceptualized into logic that screams "I'm bad; so different; never will I make it"--even if I wasn't sure where I was going in the first place.

I keep regurgitating the old hurts. And everywhere I turn I can sense how the hurt is forever with me, how it resists all attempt to dislodge it. Soon I'm left wondering, should I just quit? End the search? Yeah, maybe that's my surest safe escape route, anyway. But wait--maybe there's some solidity to hope, after all? More than mouthing the words? As in...it's real, kid. Even through the tears that are ever ready. Even when I resist their relief. Say it again--it's real, kid; even for you. Even now--it doesn't have to feel like it to be real, either. You don't even need to try--inside you really are the love you want to find out there. How will you ever find the real world if you don't start where you're standing now?

So maybe that's my realization--I try too hard. I should relax into what is, to 'the now' that's become mainstream pop psychology; the newest catch-all phrase. Perhaps it should be; but I resist following crowds to anything, as I've seen the harm that can result from that, to myself and others.

Still, whatever I call it--search or accept--is only yet another concept. The only true concept that ever appealed to me is called peace, but even that needs the negative of non-peace to make sense. See how maddening this gets?

Lots of avoidance; it's my old reliable habit--perhaps not as strong as what's called addiction but not so bad as I imagine it to be. And I can change the imagination easier than an ingrained habit. Eventually it might even wear that down, and won't that feel good.

So maybe it's time to post these random thoughts in 'recovery journal' format. Uh-oh; an immediate red flag emerges in the form of "recovery from what?". I feel like an inner child who's never arrived close to finding anything worth calling adult. Or am I avoiding, again, by yapping at myself  'til I can't stand the agony of it all?

But imagination of all sorts is still creative. I like that, and feel oddly safe there--creativity was once my surest outlet for escaping all the pain that I'd accumulated. I think I know now what I couldn't fathom then--a lot of that pain only got covered over, hidden so I could function. Thank you, imagination--you did get me through many crises.

But now it's like I've tripped on a rock, and I see what was unseen then.  I can point a finger back and say "what a fool" I was or I can just relax into what is, now. Even fools can make sense. No longer conceptual, no more do I just see a desperate search for peace; only know that it was a step beyond all that; one I needed to take, apparently. The search has held me hostage before, and now I'm free to be 'me'. Maybe it's the first time I can truly say that it's happening. Ah, right--maybe 'recovery' itself is false; maybe it's 'discovery' that describes what's going on now.

Here I can shed the defensive posture I easily adopt, and keep my eyes set on even new discoveries to come. Looking forward, and that is sign of recovery. Autumn leaves all around me, and I can feel a part of the beauty--no concept there, just real. First time for everything, I think the saying goes. Cool breezes to enjoy...like those discoveries...

Recently I was watching a youtube interview with writer Ted Zeff, noted author on highly sensitive people, and he countered a question with a suggestion I liked...he said words to the effect of: ..."maybe it's easier to think of what's usually called symptoms as characteristics instead"...

I know it's just words, but they can impact how we (or at least it works that way for me) react to things. Personally, the term 'symptoms' tends to bring on sadness, and a feeling of shame and discouragement about my life; along the lines of 'I'm dis-ordered, not normal, needy, out of whack and I'll never fit in (although I'm not at all sure I really want to fit into some grand norm anyway).

For me, it helps to at least start by feeling less defective. That little twist in words, from thinking of something as a dire-sounding symptom to consider it just as a descriptive characteristic, makes me feel less down, maybe even more aware in a way. It reminds me of looking through a prism, then twisting it and sure enough, the viewpoint changes.

Probably sounds silly to some (said by a highly sensitive person), but I like the view better when I can regard the symptoms as just characters (characteristics) wearing a scarier costume. The ability to change one's outfit is the important point. Changing the viewpoint makes the situation more fluid, and I suddenly feel a part of my own recovery, not just subject to permanent symptoms as defined in the bible (DSM-5 or whatever it's called) that tells me who I am or am supposed to be.

This isn't as anti-establishment as it sounds, though--I still regard the symptoms definitions as essential, but more as only starting points, not a life sentence that dooms me. I've come to regard them as pointers on the map of recovery, but not as the end points themselves. As I move past them, I can use the symptoms more as signs to better possibilities than as fateful stuck patterns that leave me living in categories defined exclusively by experts.

Funny how changing one word, even just internally--or at least how I think about it--leaves me feeling better as I struggle down the path. I just don't like (does anyone?) wearing the scarlet tag of victim/disordered person forever. 

There's been several threads on here about discussing cptsd, or trying to, with other people. The common feedback heard from others ranges from the horrified to the indifferent, to the worst: "just get over it". But it still hurts to fearfully hold back from sharing about something important to who you are, where you've been, and why you are a certain way, etc.

The natural tendency is to clam up. But all that's ever seemed to accomplish is that the inside scars fester and are felt even more keenly. It's frustrating that we can't even find someone to vent a little about what hurt us. I've decided to lean in another direction recently. My inspiration was a little quote I recently read. It said:

"Never be ashamed of a scar. It simply means you were stronger than whatever tried to hurt you." ...Unknown.

Well, thank you, Unknown! So simple yet so elegant. It doesn't instruct that I'll automatically feel better to just go around freely yapping about my secret/shameful/painful story of what happened--who'd want to do that? But not being ashamed, either; knowing that I WAS strong, I DID survive, and I CAN even thrive seem like key steps on the road of recovery. Inner Critic wants to shout "ha, ha, still hurting, eh? Stuff it away where you deserve to keep it." Well--know what, Inner Critic; two can play that game, and the hurt also represents strength that leads to healing and that's worth more than any more words from you.

Does this new attitude towards my scars mean I can comfortably discuss some things with more confidence and that folks will understand me better? People being people--probably not, and I'll still cringe if certain topics arise ("what was your childhood like?"). But if they sneak in anyway, choosing to consider the scars as symbolic of strength and not of shame might help salve some of the hurt. This is about my well-being, not about preserving my precious public image for others or to spare their feelings (it might even help them more honestly consider their own hidden sore spots).

Others can react as they will, but I'm thoroughly sick of always hiding it for fear of judgement, ridicule, or false pity. Abuses leading to cptsd aftereffects like flashbacks and other harmful outcomes were/are a part of me that is what it is. No amount of re-wording or frantic avoidance makes it magically disappear. But turning shame into strength? I like the sound of that.

[The Self-Acceptance Project:]

The Self-Acceptance Project: Being Kind and Compassionate Toward Yourself.
...20 authors...Tami Simon, editor
...2016, Sounds True Publishing

Self-acceptance seems so simple, and turns out so complex--and for a desperately hurt person like many of us here, it's one of the more elusive paths we find. Our inner stuff is so torn that we easily stumble; and in pounces the Inner Critic with its messages of "no good; told you so; loser; you should feel ashamed; don't deserve"; and the endless lists we're so familiar with.

Sure, we take all the steps on our own, but even that first little step can seem too daunting to even want to open the door. We want a way, a surefire fix and someone to lead us out of the mess. Then we try, think we've failed, and end up with an even happier Inner Critic. THE SELF-ACCEPTANCE PROJECT speaks directly to this. And as the editor's intro points out, if we can learn to better accept ourselves, we will also find it easier to reach out and be with other people as well.

This book isn't the answer, either. No book ever is, as its words don't live your life. At best they're symbols and pointers--and that's where THE SELF-ACCEPTANCE PROJECT flourishes. While not the definitive and sure way out of cptsd or any other mental health difficulties, it includes lots of pointers to ideas, outlooks, philosophies and aids to making a dent in the where-do-I-go quest to start living better, and to even feel human.

Based on a series of podcast interviews the editor did a couple of years ago, the 20 individual guests range from neuroscientists to psychologists, therapists, and authors who specialize in mental-health related concerns. All are articulate, personable, and many admit to their own difficulties with self-acceptance. I've taken several nuggets and probed further to learn more from a couple of these people especially. And they've proved enormously helpful. Your Inner Critic will hate the book for this reason. One advantage of the book over the podcasts is one can more easily compare some of the guests' commentaries.

The only note of caution is not to dive in thinking one is going to find the sure path that will wrap up this slog through so much disappointment. 'Sure' paths are always up to you, but they're all boosted from a grounding in self-acceptance. This book will provide lots of pointers to what's possible in an inquiring manner. They gave me a lot of hope that even my own lost self can find self-acceptance and value it as my starting point to making some sense out of the senseless. Self-acceptance even seems possible, and for the first time. So my self lauds this book, my Inner Child feels safer, and the Inner Critic can take another hike; maybe even accept that I've finally caught on to its tricks.

I once read a piece entitled "Marry Yourself: Creating Sacred Vows for Self-Love". Cool heading, at least. Recently I stopped back and re-read the vows. Some of the ones that stood out for me were:

I vow to comfort myself during times of hopelessness, despair, depression, disillusionment, or any difficulty that arises.

I vow to be my Beloved always and in all ways.

I vow to never settle or abandon myself in romantic partnerships again.

I vow to live in the faith my life unfolds in mysterious imperfect perfection.

I vow to honour my calling and live my life as a work of art.

I altered a couple and the author doesn't list some others, but the concept is something I like; despite my resistance  to vows in general--they remind me of religious abusers from my youth who started their thought-control by implanting things like confirmation vows into very vulnerable minds. Only they treated those seemingly innocent vows as a license and shield, behind which they inflicted their cruel and multiple abuses down the road.

In the process of living an individual life in a social world, it's easy to also blindly accept that one's task is to blend in as much as possible. While that's sometimes more amenable to peace, there is that tug to remain true to self, or even find it at all.

The elephant in the room--the objector to the vows? Inner Critic and her/his pals behind that door labeled CPTSD. At the very least, they'd love for you to forget that you count. While all the vows touch on areas I'm sensitive to, what leaps out  for me is "vowing to comfort myself" paired with the declaration to "live my life as a work of art." 

To some, this is but a leap into narcissistic fantasy. Taken to the extreme, perhaps so. But to a damaged soul, someone who easily slips into self-abandonment and self-loathing, who painfully stands aside when others pummel him; someone who tries to salvage pride in retreat, etc., it's too familiar and devastating to fall to implications of selfishness, narcissism, and the social anxiety about self-love. I share that, actually--obviously self-love can become over the top; and it can indeed lead to self-absorption, way beyond mere self-love.

It somehow has to start with self, to an extent. But given the viciousness of what happened coming out of a CPTSD environment, it's huge just to get a distant view of any kind of love, whether it be from self or anywhere else. It's that small step again--but because of how we're made up, self can be the only first step we can truly experience. Then the boundaries can be found; and too the limits of self. But it seems like many on this forum are still desperate for that first step, that little twinge of self-worth.

So a concept like 'marrying oneself' can indeed seem silly to the socially conscious. But guess what? There's a spectrum of people for whom it's crucial to find love wherever they can, and rediscover the first step. In my case, it seems like that was a bruising stumble and not a step; all my energy became defensive and desperate to find safe ground. They said there was love out there, and I never found it. In the process, I missed the first vow, and only now am daring to return and rediscover that ambushed self hiding within.

I'm not presently married, but if the unlikely happened and it came about, I'd  start with these vows to self, and anticipate my partner might also be so inclined. It's a two-way waltz, but we take all the steps on our own as well.

-----

The link for the article referred to above is:

http://tinybuddha.com/blog/marry-yourself-creating-sacred-vows-for-self-love/

I know of a high school that presents a new t-shirt each year to the entire student body. The plain and softly coloured shirt features a single word on the front, and on its back a short additional script related to the featured word. This year's word-theme struck a chord with me, as I'm experiencing some pretty deep therapy which recently witnessed my feelings sink lower than I ever thought they could.

So when I heard about this year's shirt, and compared it with what I still need to overcome--well, it lifted me a fair bit; enough to where I feel like I want to incorporate its message into my own re-parenting process. Sometime it's called recovery, for lack of a better term; even if it seems like a dim, flickering, almost extinguished sense of any real hope. Even the term recovery is suspect--if I never experienced love, for instance, what would I be returning to, recovering? As often happens, I've digressed a bit, a sign of my hyper-alert panicky trait of needing to explain myself to myself, let alone to others. So back to the shirt story.

The front of this year's shirt bears this word: WONDER. The back reads this way: Be Amazed, Be Curious, Be Creative. This may have been issued for a few hundred teens, but it's totally what my Inner Child needs to hear, too.

I like to play with words, and when I look at this one again, I find it an inspiring message to consider. Then it hit me-- --wonder can be modified to wonderful and further transformed into WONDER-FULL.  With that, I think I can begin to pull myself out of where I've been lately. I may not be recovering anything, but perhaps I can discover something even better.

Hang on--Inner Critic is pounding at the door..."let me in, you idiot! Fantasizing again, eh? Trying to change the very words we all use...Hah! Everyone knows that's bucking the world the way it's supposed to be, dreamer that you are...and..." I SLAM THE DOOR AND LOCK IT...and grin at the sudden peace that fills my being. Standing up to the Inner Critic...for me, that's huge! And wonder-full.

I've done years of research, self-analysis, etc., ad infinitum. I'm an expert at all the mind games that seem to go round and round in their 'circle game', as a famous song once described it..."captured on the carousel of time".

I go back for endless rides, it seems. But now I'm very deep into therapy--although I've had several t's going back 20 years, I've finally found one on top of things and we're progressing, so slowly, and in the meantime focusing in to my real needs--now, not way out there ahead of me.

So, following Walker's suggested steps, I now realize that I'm still struggling with one basic but major issue--angering. As in--I've never felt safe enough, even when alone (which I am 99% of the time) to 'let it out', as one often-misused cliche has it. As hinted, I can feel anger as a mental projection, but not practically to where I've felt it fully. I'm scared of what my endless bottled up anger could trigger in me, including--strange as it seems--letting go of the security of having all that head knowledge, the understanding game.

I'm leaning towards just letting it happen now; as I'm with a very trustworthy therapist as a guide into this wilderness. But it would be cool to know if anyone else on here would be willing to share what this may have been like for them as I move forward into this new territory of release.

Thank you.

Given all the items on this forum relating to the various types of therapies and therapists many of us have tried, I found this therapist's site to be a promising guide to help navigate some of the territory. Having gone through several therapists myself, I wish I'd run into something like this earlier...although my current therapist is head and shoulders above all that came before.

Anyway, the site is:

http://www.myshrink.com/

Like many sites, there's some material that is offered commercially, but the free articles and materials are thorough without being "dry" or overly academic. Just using the top menu selections will lead to lots of useful articles covering an array of topics regarding the therapist/client relationship.

START IT ALL OVER AGAIN...

Lyrics and music by Karine Polwart, sung here by Heidi Talbot. FYI, Polwart was a social worker in Scotland who often worked with abused kids.

This song is about a mother's love for her child...something I never felt.  But of course the longing never leaves, does it? The maybes can make one's steps falter, or perhaps we can choose to find our own ways to "start it all over again."

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wuhlXuKuuEM

I'm the sea that surrounds you
the garden that grounds you
the sun and the wind and the rain
I am every season
you're every reason
to start it all over again

Soon you'll sail a wild river
we'll set sail together
and oceans will call out your name
and by stars you will follow
your hopes for tomorrow
and start it all over again

And if you stagger or stumble
if dreams start to crumble
I'll pick up the pieces of pain
I will cradle you cry with you
pray that you'll try to just
start it all over again

Who has eyes that can see
all the things you could be?
who has ears for the sweetest refrain?
may your heart sing forever
where the sea meets the river
and start it all over again

Recently I was reading a series of contmplative reflections on a blog called A Loving Healing Space (http://alovinghealingspace.blogspot.com/). Sometimes there's material there that takes quite a bit of re-reading to fully grasp the message. In other words, it can seem radical, or at least counterintuitive at first, but often the words I find there helps me create room for the healing space suggested by the blog's title. Once you allow yourself to get there. Anyway, here's an entry that gave me pause:

..."No matter what is happening in your life right now, you can have the intention to provide a holding space for the unmet and abandoned children within you. These ones are arising not as some error or obstacle, or as evidence that something has gone wrong. But have come as invitations of integration, and as emissaries of wholeness.

"Just as you are only ever longing for your own presence, these ones are only longing to be re-parented and allowed to return Home once again, as new forms of love and creativity within you."

This seems to be the crux of recovery for me. Yet the doubts seek to interfere. Integrate abuses and the monsters who toyed with me as if I was their ragdoll? Feel wholeness within the brokenness? Allow pain to mingle with the peace I've tried so hard to find? And it's already gone on so long—how can I ever get past it? Should I? Maybe all this worry only reinforces the fears that I can never really heal.

Radical. Still, all the other ways—the escape, flight-freeze, hiding, etc.--they only seemed effective in short bursts. Then the clouds would once again obscure my clear vision; the fear came rolling back as if to reclaim its familiar niche in my life. Flashback city—sleep it off, distract, medicate; anything but absorb; please, 'not that' would be my instant reaction. It hurts too much; please let me escape this. I resign myself to never making it. Small steps, huge leaps—they're all futile, it seems. Down the road, at best, but not now.

My reasoning (Inner Critic) interjects, smirking that this new sort of rescue/recovery I'm reading about is only doable via imagination. Yet another fantasy, the mind suggests. And that's not real, is it?

But wait; I'm learning to respond to these nagging doubts. Why else even have an imagination if it can't consider alternatives? If it can't create a new pathway that transforms the old negative vibes into a new form of beauty? And then realize that this quality never left me, but comes again, as that abandoned child. And this time I don't have to fear his reappearance.

Slowly—sooo slowly—I'm beginning to consider this new trail. Like all the old ways, it's probably filled with obstacles in the form of triggers and flashbacks. But now I can learn to unlearn, too. Not merely as a comfort, but in joyful acceptance that it's my right as a human to find my way, again. And yes, to rescue that hurt child who keeps knocking at my door.

And so the child arrives; he carries an important gift that both of us need: healing.

There is a time to every season.

The forest scene that appears atop my posts shows a long trail emerging from a fogbank hovering above an unseen river. This closely resembles an area I frequently visit less than a mile from my home. It also reflects my view of life as we journey through highs and lows, woods and fields, under a singular unity of being (not doing!). Sort of seeing life as its own meditation.

For quite a while now, my journey has wandered in, out, and around this forum and its associated parts, as when I found it I felt its potential to help my trudge along the trail. And, I found out, I was allowed to contribute to other peoples paths, sharing experiences and outlooks, without fear of judgement for my path. I found these to be important connections in a world where it's increasingly hard to do so, individually as well as socially. As a self-described erudite hermit I found this site/forum to be very grounding for where I needed to be, incorporating as it did the grit as well as the grace of the lives we've come to share here.

Right now that perspective has shifted a bit for me. I still find meaning seeing what's going on with my fellow travelers struggles and progress as expressed on these pages. I still find value in sharing some material I've come across, perhaps a video or article link or a pointer to what seemed helpful. Another recent change—after years of frustration with outside therapy—is that I've found a therapist who has the savvy and skill to work WITH me, not from a top-down-I-know-better-than-you-do perspective. Hers is an honest and in-depth approach, more than the typical t/client experience that discouraged me before.

But my personal inclination to expand beyond that via this forum seems to have faded, and so I thought I'd express that via this 'in/out' section. My immediate catalyst stems from a serious flashback/trigger that popped in, unexpectedly, following an ill-advised commentary/critique someone recently made in response to a reflection I'd shared about how I felt my acting background allowed me to find the elusive 'me' I'd always sought, hidden as it was in pain and grief. In their over-the-top response, the poster sought to shred what I'd shared from my heart into what they thought I should have said. The suggestion was that basically I'm a fool for being 'me'. Its condescending put-down tone hit me hard, brought up those flashbacks of my old abusers, and led me to reassess the good vibes I once felt so deeply here, when it seemed okay to be 'me'. Like so often that old bromide of 'just get over it' doesn't work. Now it just seems there's this cloud of potential critique and judgement waiting again to pounce on my every word, discerning even my own motivations and outlook for me.

So I might stick around, more on the periphery though; maybe post once in a while—probably just pass some info on, as my spirit remains but my recovery is too fragile to risk getting pounced on again. Maybe I'm too sensitive? If so, I'm proud I can feel that way, in large measure due to some things I've learned via this forum. Sensitivity is one bit of shame I can turn from being a downer to a source of pride.

My thanks to all who've shared the good, bad, and ugly as we venture on, trying so hard to make sense of the senseless. It may seem hopeless sometimes, but the storm really will pass, and the fog will lift with it.