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Congrats on finding the notes and unraveling it via tidying up.

I have a little thought on top (or under) of what I wrote earlier. It involves our old favourite -- The Secret Garden.

I'm not sure if it was in both versions, but something from the 1975 BBC series I really liked inspired my thoughts about discovering unknown and/or new possibilities.

There was a scene where Mary and Dickon were sharing dreams of what to include in the new/old garden. Mary exclaims [I'm paraphrasing here]: ''...but let's not make it a PERFECT garden, Dickon. Let's leave some of it a bit wild -- maybe we'll be surprised by those parts coming up on their own, from underground.''

I just thought how well that scene speaks to cultivating that sort of outlook while planting any of our own secret gardens. And how, who knows, we might be surprised, and delighted, at our new discoveries.

Take care 

 Congratulations  

Thanks for sharing the birth of your new outlook. May it continue helping you along your healing journey.

 

I seem to do likewise -- set expectations and goals and look forward to a 'someday' when it all becomes clear again  . And then -- it all goes missing  .

Frustrating, 'cause I was so sure I knew that I could bring back those items, whether they be physical objects like notes, or a certain book; or the old infamous 'mental note' when that certainty wil magically reappear.

I'm surprised and perplexed when that happens. Sometimes the surprise (I've also been having dreams a bit 'far out' lately) doesn't make much sense or bear much meaning.

Well, maybe that surprise is its own message; that in its puzzling nature it might be pointing out a new direction -- like I'm more capable of stretching my expectations.

I say this mostly because I've seemed to have encountered some surprising twists in recent years, especially in learning who I really am, beyond the stuff that happened to me (albeit certain nigtmarish dreams still float in).

Maybe a new and even odd-seeming dream works to point out that I'm more flexible than I thout. Maybe it comes in a weird dream as if it's just a pointer towards the possibility of considering a broader horizon. Maybe its just a way to keep asking questions. And maybe all the maybes are not meant to bear any messae at all; but in their surprise, it builds an awareness of a life beyond my usual, predictable fear-based anxiety.

But Im ramblind, and feel like I'm trespassing in your journal speculations. If so, I apologize. Still, I hope it's still okay to share some thoughts that floated into my being as I read your post.

So hard,those darling friends who come our way, sometimes when we had no human friends. Please take good care of yourself.

Everything you've sared here rings true in so many ways, EdenJoy1. But in my experience, most of those 'normal' folks you speak of are basically charlatans loving their clever disguises at your expense. If one had the luxury of knowing, almost everyone has tripped up in some way, though many are adept at hiding behind their naive superior notions of not being as honest about it as you are.

I also tend to dissociate often, but I've come off of blaming myself, as if dissociation is some grand fault that sets me apart. Yes, it can make me feel bad, or mostly sad, that I have to deal with it, but I also recognize that it is normal for anyone recovering from multiple traumas. Laying off this self-blame stance has made a huge difference in that critically important task -- feeling better and believing I'm ok, always have been. despite those smug 'normal' sorts. Again, if we could see beyond their masks, we'd find many hurting as bad or worse than us.

We're at least trying to go beyond the wounds and healing wherever we can. Sometimes the trick is just feeling a place to start. It's what drew many of us to this forum. I hope this likewise signals your willingness to find new perspectives and learn how beautiful you are just by allowing yourself to wonder. There are few easy answers, but begin by knowing you are probably even more 'normal' that those gloating know-it-alls would be too scared to let on.

I wish you well on this worty journey.

Your writings are always honest, wise, and from the heart. Thank you.   

The painful stuff, as you note, is impossible to fully express. Especially as most of the hurt was senseless to start with. Describing it for others? Well, on here at least there's no dire necessity for any more than what you feel comfortable about. That much of it could ever come close to feeling ok about is nigh impossible. We all know that hopeless feeling, and how scared and vulnerable it is to violate our peace by struggling to find a way that feels safe.

It takes courage just to be here, let alone find words that can fully numb the pain.

There's never any absolute need, either here or in therapeutic settings, to share any more than feels okay at any given moment. It's precisely that courage that shows in the ways you do choose to express yourself so honestly, reflecting that deep heart of yours.

Continue to take care of your heart, Hope. May it be your guide in this process; we're all walking with you as well.

I was reading along, when you said the following:

''I took the healing leap.  I'm mid-leap right now.  I don't know what happens from here or where I'll land.''

This jibes with my own discovery of the attitude I think has helped me the most; even pleasantly surprised me when I least exptected it to. This sort of attitude re-set seems to keep this --  -- from scaring us back behind our doors of fear.

I know I need those leaps too, and wish you well with yours. It's a strange new world, but worth it to find the peace we all seek -- starting with ourselves.

Thanks and welcome back. 

Hearty congrats    and may you continue to a strong recovery.   

May you continue the pace, safely; towards home and full relief. 

Not feeling connected -- alien -- started early with me. Undoubtedly this was in reaction to abuses from immediate family and awful 'teachhers' and pompous clergy sorts in religious schools.

That's the obvious downside, from my alien-like perspective. Yet it was in actuality a plus, allowin me to see through the layers of hypocritical, obscene torments of that whole experience. Although envious of those who were loved from the start, I've grown to appreciate my front-row seat in the den on iniquity, so to speak. How or why I found my inner heart was not comfortable with this, to say the least, there''s also an extreme part consisting of shame, anger, and grief that it had to be that way. But, to use an old cliche, I survived. Maybe feeling alien helped?

Then, as pointed out by Chart, there came the point of turning away from the old story. Or, the old life's movie, as some have referenced it. Now I have a mutiplex cinema -- the decrepit one shows the old horrows, but mostly I've learned to avoid that one. Instead, there's the new one, with the ongoing, 'now' films, with new scripts under revision as I write.

I know that can seem unrealistic, but as Chart also hinted, it speaks of the need -- somehow -- to break with the old perpetrators, in mind if not in actuality (though I happily did the latter).

  I could go on, but this story we're talking of is yours, and you ARE in the lobby of your new theatre. May you begin to enjoy the new story more and more each day. We'll be applauding your new being 
    

Just a personal opinion, but it seems as though dissociation is often considered a problem, when as Armee points out, it's a normal, natural alright part of Cptsd's aftereffects.

I also had an experience with my T a bit like that, and I started to apologize to her when she calmly, almost nonchalantly, said it wasn't so much a problem as an opportunity to note. In my case, she went on to congratulate me for at least recoggnizing what had happened. I felt relief -- I wasn't 'bad' for experiencing a natural process, and I could go from there, adding that knowledge to my discovery toolkit.

Dissociation still happens in my life, but I tend to catch it better when it happens, and not blame myself for it; just digest it, if necessary, and move on to a new blameless frame of mind about it.

Maybe it seems far-fetched that there's any place, on-line or down the street, that can make up for what happened. My faint hopes upon joining OOTS was precisely like that -- I had no hope, period.

Gradually it dawned on me  this place is different, despite my ongoing skeptic's doubts. How could anybody, anywhere, ever accept any notion that I was really okay, mattered, and had anything worth while to share. I still have difficulty with the idea I could possibly overcome what came before, but I've seen enough to feel  that yes, this is something different, and so am I. The hurt still resurfaces with harmful effects, but all that matters here is so much better than that old story.

May you find the same peace and understanding. As has been pointed out, you are welcome here.

    

I can closely relate to how you've reacted to what was totally senseless. I can save over my feelings a tad with the reminder I'm not there now, but I don't always feel relief from the wounds which hhave stayed ever-present, and can only bring me feel insecure, even where I live -- miles away from people (but still my preferred choice).

I wish I could share some magic vision or potion or hobby or something that might be nice, but far from providing the healing you need.

Maybe, though, you have turned in the other direction? I mean, you did venture to join with people here -- perhaps, as it was with me, only after wondering if there was anyone with whom it felt safe to admit to 1) what happened and 2) how you're still not well with the memories, yet alone the recurring aftershocks you're still enduring.

So that's a start. I didn't think there was anyone here I could fully trust. I didn't -- which is at least one 'was' I've managed to lessen.

Let's just consider this your new journey into finding the life you deserve, the friend(s) you''ve been waiting for so long to find.

                 

May you get the help you need, and feel the vibes emanating from all of us.   

It''s been a while -- too long, really; since I've set out to spend some time here.

First stop -- get the supplies readied for my visit. I love to split wood a for campfire in case others want to share its warmth as the evening cools.

And for sure today I've brought the bag of compost for the garden. Compost, the waste material whose decaying nutrients will mix into this year's blend of seeds and other plantings for the season's growth.

Soon the transformation will start as new growth, sprouting forth beautiful new plants while anticipaing the transformation of the soil yet again.

I can't help but think of how this process, including the rotting compost, resembles my own efforts to discard my old story. Reminds me, too, of Mary Lennox and the excitement she found planting her own secret garden.

May this one follow her example of pluck and determination to find new meaning for life's new growth cycle. 

The best is yet to come -- is that Robin's song I'm hearing? Familiar -- yet new, singing a welcome to new life. And I'm included.