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For me, participating in other people's family life has been a source of both solace and sadness.  I have felt welcomed and comfortable.  Years ago, when parents of friends were younger and healthier, I could occasionally seek a little surrogate parenting.  I have happy memories.

But nothing ever truly compensates for what wasn't -- or for what was instead.  I enjoy only a corner of functional family life.

Hello, Trace.  I had something like your experience.  My T didn't read Walker's book in any detail, and she implied several times that it didn't offer her anything new.  She did, though, get her own copy, and she told me at the last session that she'd changed my official diagnosis, for insurance, to PTSD.  It can't be CPTSD, she says, because CPTSD isn't formally accepted. 

Perhaps she's just better versed in CPTSD than the T you've been seeing.  Or perhaps she's just more inclined to accept my self-assessment.

Like you, I found Walker's book right on target, more than anything I've read.  But I think I'm still a long way from the recovery I seek.

Answering Trees's question from several posts back:  yes, I know much about my close friend's sources of distress.  I've spent much effort to try to understand the dynamics in her family, which are different from mine.  The effort has meant that, over more than 25 years, we've become extremely close and consider each other something like sisters, even though we are from very different families.

Coming to understand family dynamics for a few close friends (not many), over many years, has helped put my experience in perspective.  It helps me realize just how unacceptable my uNPD mother has been and just how much my father acted as an enabler.  I've learned some new labels, like CPTSD, recently, but I've known for a long time that my story is a hard one for some people to hear.

And so answering questions about it is an occasional challenge.  My response often reflects my assessment of the relationship and its prospects (is the inquiry casual, or does the inquirer really want to know?  is the relationship fraught with power differences?  how vulnerable am I willing to be over time?). 

The few long-term friends, the people I count on, know much.  A few have been witnesses to some horrors.  Anyone I might come to know as well in the future probably needs to be "let in," and that's always a risk.

I want to echo (without much fanfare) what's been said today (while I as off line). 

And I'd add that the care and sensitivity with which everyone has addressed this question is truly remarkable. 

Experience described here make clear that religion has been a source of control and oppression for some people, though of course not for everyone.  To deny that reality is as dismissive of the experience as the glorification of family would seem to a great many of us.  Yet we manage to talk about experience in families without trashing all family connections or individual families.  Surely the same principles can be applied to religion.

No_more_guilt, same here -- I'm sorry you've had such a bad time in therapy.

IF you decide to try another T, you might try bringing Walker's book, if it speaks to you, or referring a prospective T to this forum, which doesn't require registration to read.  Any prospective T who invalidates what's said here clearly doesn't understand CPTSD.

I've had a little success with this strategy, having taken the Walker book to a session soon after I discovered it.  My T took my self-diagnosis seriously (of course, she'd suggested PTSD by then).  I've been fortunate in this, I know.  It also cut through some explanation and probably saved session time.

I never ask new acquaintances such questions.  To do so would risk hearing the question turned on me.  The question isn't usually "conversation starter," but it does get asked, often when I've been getting to know someone over a little time. 

I can usually deflect the question in some way, saying something like "I'm from an obscure part of the U. S.  It seems like another world."  All true.  But if a relationship is deepening (I don't mean romantically) and I'm interested in a close connection, then the "story" hangs out there.  I've managed to tell the story (or part of it), but the telling always seems like a risk.  And I can recount a few instances of recoiling or invalidation ("That just can't be true.").   I find that response very hard to take.

A very close friend, who knows but does not share my story, likes to put it this way:  we meet two kinds of people, those who've been to * and back and those who haven't, and those of us who have can often spot others like us.  She reminds me occasionally that there are other sources of distress that I might try to understand.

More than social isolation generally, I think this question (or rather its answer) is an impediment to intimacy, generally applied.  It's certainly been an impediment to romantic relationships.  Anyone coming close enough to witness the dynamics of my family has been pretty horrified. 

So what to say when asked?  When I try to answer, I usually prefer the response with lots of easy outs for the listener (for example, "I'm not seeking a therapist," "You don't have to respond in any way," "The story isn't a happy one, so maybe you'd rather not hear it.").  My message is that I'm not secretive, but neither do I need to go into detail.  The effect, though, is often establish some distance. 

I'm fortunate in that I have a small group of very close friends who know my story well.  But in meeting new people, which I usually like to do, my "story" hangs there.

Since I joined this site, only recently, I've occasionally wondered what a meeting of members in real life would be like.  Knowing that someone "gets it" makes a difference.

Yes, you're deflecting, kind of the way I do.  Pick a point that might be interesting, respond to the question, and move on.  I too am well practiced.

But the inability to answer more honestly separates us from others.  Even without become a kind of hermit, the past becomes a source of isolation.  I can be in crowd or in a room full of familiar people, and no one really knows who I am or what's shaped the life I have.  I wish I could overcome that condition somehow.  I don't seek sympathy, just recognition and maybe a little understanding.

Echoing others, Rich, I think you'll find support on this site.

Your story is one more example of the chronic problem that CPTSD is for some of us.  Even decades after childhood, when we might expect to be "over" it, the symptoms recur.  Pete Walker (you might check out his book on CPTSD, if you haven't already) equates it with diabetes or other conditions that must be managed.  I'm close to your age and am hoping finally to learn the tools of effective management.  It's time.

Good question, Woodsgnome, and one that raises all kinds of related questions (about stigma, validation, etc.).  I'm guessing lots of people on this site have shied away from honest answers to "what was your childhood like?" If most of the world were validating, we wouldn't need to or want to converse on line from all over the globe. 

For many years, I longed to find an answer that would promote a supportive response.  I tried telling a few stories, but too often, people would withdraw or tell me I must be exaggerating.  The point was driven home during my uNPDM's last visit, now decades ago, when two close friends stopped by.  They were shocked.  One of them still tells me that he never quite believed me until he witnessed a terrorist in action. 

So like you, I usually deflect the question.  I don't really see myself as a "sociable hermit," though I can see that others might think so.  But like you, I can't find a way to say "my childhood had some good moments, but overall, it was a nightmare from which I'm still learning to recover." 

I don't want to be asked the question, but at the same time, I crave understanding.  I want people in my life to "get it."  And if I can't talk about it, I can't expect anyone to understand.

So I sometimes let be known some general outlines or snippets of information.  And I wait for responses, which often never come in any way I can recognize.  I think even well-intentioned people trying to understand have difficulty knowing what to say.

Arpy1, an email seems like a really good idea.  And if you do it before the next session, you won't have to spend so much precious session time explaining. 

Your T may, like your GP, be searching for ways to remove you from isolation.  Her suggestion may have been a statement of concern, although still way out of bounds.

I'm really hoping she quickly recognizes the boundary violation and apologizes.  If she does, you'll have a good indication about her.

I think that's good advice from DBT, Arpy1.  I try to do something like that, if only because the "oh, no, you can't mean me" response really does sound offensive.  But I'm still uncomfortable.  I think compliments make me feel vulnerable, as if I'm being set up to be taken down.  Small wonder:  that's part of the abuser's repertoire.  So if I take myself down or at least avoid being set up, I'm a little safer.

Misunderstood3815, you have much courage to come as far as you have.  And you have clearly described what you've been facing.  So congratulations for the progress you've made.

I mostly want to echo what others have said:  whatever support services you can find should be helpful now.  A shelter, in particular, should keep you safe and help you access counseling.  The process is far from smooth, but with shelter support, you may be able to find housing, eventually, and assistance with employment.  Expressing the same clear goals that your post conveyed, you can at least learn about what's available.

Your journey is a hard one.  But you've had a better life, and you will have one again.

I have a similar problem with compliments, Mary Ann. 

In my current line of work, it's sometimes a problem.  I'm expected to do some self-promoting, and I just can't.  I hate it.  I don't mind promoting other people's accomplishments, but drawing attention to myself makes me more than a little uneasy.  I do public speaking -- and do -- without anxiety.  But I tell myself it's about the message, not about me.

I've asked myself why, off and on.  Perhaps I fear morphing into a version of my narcissistic abuser?  Perhaps I fear that attention will somehow allow her to undermine anything I do? 

I've not worked it out (yet). 

Yes, it's unfair that you have to confront her.  But if she's the professional she should be, you won't have to say much.  She should fall all over herself with apologies.  If she gets defensive, well, you may want to rethink her being your therapist.

A pro should be able to handle such a challenge.  It shouldn't even be heard as a challenge. 

If you really don't want to confront face to face, why not write a letter or send an email?  Even if she were to read the letter/email when you next see her, you'd have worked through your explanation.

And you have people on this site to back you up.