Out of the Storm

**POSSIBLE TRIGGER**


In 1995 when my mother died I had a overwhelming flood of memories and sadness. I had been able to suppress those things for years. Well, at least I though I had. Looking back I realize that my past followed me where ever I went. 

Soon after her death I began to write down some of those memories. I needed to tell my story. My wife knew some of what I had endured, but was unaware of the extent of abuse. It took me 16 years to finish what would become a book. The emotional struggle I had while writing was debilitating and I had to walk away from it for months before I could go back. My wife wanted to read it and after she finished she told me I should publish it. 

I was too ashamed to publish it as written, so I rewrote it, as a novel, and took out some of the worst parts, especially the sexual abuse. That I could not face until recently. Even now I mention it because I know that no one here knows who I am. Of all the things I endured, the beatings, abandonment, my mom trying to sell me to a stranger in another state, the violation of my person and being diminished as a human being was the worst and has all but destroyed my sense of self. 

I am in therapy and currently trying to navigate the shame and guilt I bear because of the sexual abuse. I hate myself. I do not believe that I deserve to be loved. I want that to change and I want my past suffering to allow me to be a help to others who have suffered. My intellect tells me that I was not the blame, but my wounded heart contradicts that at every turn. 

**Trigger Warning**

For most of my life I had longed for a connection to my mother. I needed her, when she put me in an orphanage at around 8 years old, I was inconsolable. I cried for days, sang her favorite song to myself and would weep because I felt so lost. After I got out of the home nothing changed. She was drunk most of the time and my stepdad was an alcoholic as well. He beat her and always made sure I knew her beating was because of me. My first day out of the home I ate the last piece of chicken which my stepsister also wanted. In the early hours of the morning, after he returned from the bar, he came into my room, dragged me to the living room and made me watch as he punished her on my behalf. 

Over time she hated me more and more. She blamed me for her pain and physical suffering. One time she spit in my face and let me know she wished I had died in her womb. No matter how poorly she treated me I still longed for her. That longing continued until the day she died. After my stepfather died I moved her closer to me and my family. That was a monumental mistake. She seemed to get worse with age.

I have viewed my longing for her as a weakness of character. How could you love or need someone who had such disgust for you? After all this time since her death I still feel an emptiness, a void that nothing seems to be able to fill. I struggle with that and many other issues. But, the "terminal aloneness" (someone else coined that, can't remember who) is oppressive and soul crushing.

Sorry this is so long, thanks for taking the time to read it.

It's not too long. Please don't apologise. Take as much space as you need. This is your journal.

I hope writing your experiences and turning them into a novel has helped you and I am glad to read you are in therapy. Nobody should have to have the experiences you did.

Thanks for the encouragement NarcKiddo. Everyone here has suffered unfairly. None of it can be undone, but hopefully it can be mitigated  Having the ability to express what is going on in me is a great help.

 :grouphug:

I'm glad you are here and telling your story more fully here. I'm sorry that you suffered under so very much cruelty and abandonment. It makes all the sense in the world why you would long for your mom even if you didn't want to because of what she put you through. One of course because its natural to want your mom even if we can't stand to be near our own...it's a normal longing...and 2 probably there's a lot of emotional flashbacks to the orphanage and being left there when you get those longings...it's your little self remembering that feeling.

It's crazy how much shame sexual abuse and assault throws on us.

Armee, I always held out the hope that my mother would love me. It is silly to feel that way because I don't believe she had the ability to give motherly love. My grandparents raised one brother, she gave one brother up for adoption (I learned this in my 30's), my other half brother and sister were placed in a different orphanage than me. I never met the brother and only met my sister about 20 years ago.

She never raised one of her offspring, so to expect her to show me what she couldn't give to any of us seems foolish now. I suppose that little boy who was abandoned is the part of me that is doing the longing. This injury is hard to navigate. 

L2N

I'm very glad you found this forum. I understand the reasons why you decided to not publish the stories of the actual pain and confusion that has defined so much of your life. The need for anonymity is a real, and valid need, which is highly respected by the membership of this forum.

The way you write is impressive. Your story, as written here, touched my heart in a powerful way. I hope you continue to write and share. I hope the anonymity provided here allows you to feel free to share as little or as much as whatever makes you feel heard. We're here to support each other in whatever capacity we each want that support.

As you've noted, the people on this forum have many stories of neglect, abuse, sexual abuse, etc., so there isn't much need to worry about saying things that won't be believed or accepted. I hope that you continue to feel safe sharing your thoughts and stories here, not worried about shocking anyone. We all know the pain and loneliness of trauma. Most of us know the pain of feeling humiliated for being who we were told we are. You are among friends here. Even anonymously, we care about each other.

Again, I want to extend a very warm welcome.

Thanks Papa Coco. I do feel safe on this site. Being anonymous makes it easier to unburden myself of things I've kept hidden for over 60 years. In my earlier days I had done my best to bury the monsters from my past. As I got older these entombed memories would no longer stay buried. They rose from their tombs and overwhelmed me. Actually they were never really silent, but I was able to ignore them better then. 

I'm glad I found this place and am grateful for all the kindness I have met with here.

**Trigger Warning**

I added the TW after I originally posted this.  I apologize for neglecting it originally. 

I wrote this as I reflected on my relationship with my mother.

The day was cold
The sky was dark
When mother's pain began
With great travail and many tears
She birthed a little man

No joy arose
Within her heart
As she stared into his face
No caring look her visage bore
No tenderness or grace

With frigid soul
And pallid eye
Cold resentment filled her mind
The child she held would not be hers
No joy in him she'd find

This boy grew up
Without a trace
Of fond embrace or love
Instead harsh words and violent hands
All hope from him she drove

The days were long
The nights obscene
Security was gone
Obscurity became his friend
He lived life all alone

The years passed by
Mother long gone
The memories persist
Painful darkness tortures his soul
Hope, love engulfed in mist

There is no end
To tortured love
No balm to heal the wound
Just struggling days and endless nights
Until we find the tomb.

L2N,

I'm 63. I was forcibly retired at age 60, due in part to COVID. I'm now a workaholic without a job. I realize too that my workaholism was likely driven in part by me not wanting to deal with the demons of my past. Being relaxed and undistracted by work and by raising a family for my entire life has now allowed my own trauma-brain to rise up and fill the space that my job used to fill. The new quiet in my life is very loud and hard to hide from.

Going into retirement has not been the happy thing I had imagined it would be. My ghosts and demons have a lot bigger stage to play on now.

L2N

Wow. That poem you just posted. I just read it. Shivers are shooting up and down my spine. My Gosh! Thank you for sharing it.

I'm sorry Papa Coco. These things are persistant. Retirement has allowed memories more opportunity to torment me as well. Be of good courage in the end we will win. 

**Trigger Warning**

So this morning I am feeling very lost. I have this aching need deep inside me that I cannot touch. It's as if I need to reach out to someone, but I don't know who. It is a painful feeling that nothing seems to satisfy. I'm writing this hoping that somehow the need will at least be touch and yet it is unfulfilling. This hunger for unmet connection makes me sorrowful. Something is missing in me, a vital component in my soul that has been stolen. I know I will never get it back no matter how hard I try.

I have tried using mindfulness techniques to distract my mind, but sometimes it doesn't work. I am alone in my suffering, it is a storm I must face alone, no one can fill the need. Whatever it is, it is inside of me and I suppose the answer must lie there.

I have been doing a lot of writing lately. It is very helpful to me because I can express what I'm feeling. I'm embarrassed to say that I can write about these things, but am tongue tied when I attempt to verbalize them.

I wanted to share this poem that I wrote a few weeks back. I tried to post it earlier but it didn't seem to show up.

Though you wear a smile
Your eyes betray the sorrow that you feel
Your mask can't hide the pain inside
You fear what you'll reveal

Time and time again
You sought a friend to give you what you need
The truth is sad, you never find
The comfort that you seek

Specters from the past
Have come at last to goad with shame and guilt
Your mind is vexed with deep regret
For the life you have been dealt

All your hope is gone
You can't go on, surrounded by the past
Your voice is small and very thin
Feeble courage never lasts

You carry death within your breast
Its rot destroys your soul
Yet in this grave flickering hope remains
That someday you'll be whole.

Little2Nothing,

I feel you. What you're expressing here about the chronic loneliness and the desire to be touched deep down in your soul. I know that feeling well. It's trauma. I know it feels like you're alone, but I'm alone right next to you in our writing.

I have this quote I use all the time "I write to discover what I know" by Flannery O'Connor. Writing is so helpful. Like you, I get tongue tied when I speak verbally. I get nervous and my consciousness leaves my gut and heart and rises to the top of my head. My voice raises to a higher register, and I end up sounding like a crazy person. I have this terror that I won't be believed or that I'll be cut off before I can finish, so I try to say everything all at once. But when I write, I can take my time. Organize my thoughts. I end up learning about myself through what I write.

I have a book here that was recommended to me called The Artist's Way by Julia Cameron. When I first started reading the paperback and listening to the audiobook (I do both. I learn visually and audibly), I thought it might be kind of a silly book. But by really listening to the audiobook over and over, I began to truly appreciate that I have the right to be creative. And I have the ability. And I have valid reasons for why I thought I didn't. It's a book I recommend to anyone who's struggling with feeling like they don't have the right to express in their own artful way. Art happens in anything. Art can be in cooking, writing, singing, painting, photography, sand sculptures...almost anything is done better when it's done in an artful way, and this book opened me up to accepting that I have the right to express myself. It moved me another mile forward in my lifelong journey of healing.

When I discover artists who move me, I pretty much always find that they are people who have come from struggle. A happy-go-lucky person can learn to write, but a tortured soul can put life into words. Life that people can feel and learn from. There are writers and there are artists. From what I read of your posts, you are more of an artist. Your words move me.

I'm sorry if I come on sounding kind of syrupy. But when people share their inner souls through any form of expression, I feel it deep down and can't stop myself from at least expressing to that person how much I enjoy accepting what they are offering. I live half of my life in a coastal community filled with local artists. Many of them are just run-of-the-mill hobbyists, but the really, truly good ones are those who are working out their pain by sharing it with the world through whatever expression they feel compelled to express. I see this as the difference between a hobby and a calling.

Thank you for sharing your poems. I like this one you just shared also. I feel the energy that you put into them. It feels like a connection. I live for connection. I'm so tired of feeling alone. That's art. It connects people who are open to be connected with.

Thanks Papa Coco. That book sounds interesting I am going to look for it. 

I tend to get lost in my writing. Everything fades to the background and, if the subject is deeply felt, I am exhilarated as the thoughts take shape. In a way it frees me from the bondage of trauma for the briefest moment. In that moment I am able to feel like I am worth something. 

**Trigger Warning**

I wrote this poem several months ago. It expresses how I felt at the time, although I trust that I will triumph over my past eventually. Thanks for reading it.

I'm not sure what happened, but I couldn't get spaces between the verses. 

Look back old man
You have not lived in vain

L2N,

I don't say these things lightly. I like to say positive things to people, but not by lying to them. When I say your poems send those wonderful chills through my spine, I am telling the honest to god truth. This poem did it to me again. Those chills are some kind of energy that is awakened in me through connection. Your fingers aren't writing these poems, your soul is. And my soul, for some reason, is reading them. It's connection. Art is connection.

In the post just before it, you describe something that the people who study happiness call Flow. Athletes call it Being in The Zone. I prefer to use the term Flow because I believe that when an activity has the ability to stop time, like writing does for you, (and also for me), that the reason it consumes our focus is because we have found the art that we came here on the earth to play in. Pablo Picasso said "Every child is an artist. The trick is to remain an artist after we grow up." Julia Cameron, in The Artist's Way, says "Our talent is God's gift to us. What we do with that talent is our gift back to God." [cautious disclaimer: I am not religious. I feel like God is not a "he" but is a force. The source of all unconditional love and the creative consciousness that gives life to our universe. I pray almost all day long, but I do so outside the limits of religious dogma. The Artist's Way fits with my belief. She's not religious either but expresses that same strong sense of connection, and spirit, and art, and unconditional love].

It's been my experience that when I try to learn something that isn't in my DNA (Piano, foreign languages, guitar, gardening) I struggle and only partially accomplish it. I "get by". But when I follow my heart and allow myself to learn what seems to be my calling, that's when time stands still for me, focus becomes possible, and success follows. To me, that's Flow. Like swimming in the stream that I was born to play in. And it leads to moments of joy and happiness and belonging.

When you say that time stands still when you focus on writing, that just tells me why your writing moves me. You're not a hobbyist. You're the real deal. You've found the talent/art that you were born to play in. You're putting your soul into your words. That's gotta be the reason why I gravitate toward them.

I hope you keep going with it. I find myself looking forward to reading your posts.

Wow, Papa Coco, that brought tears to my eyes. I'm speechless. All I can say is thank you!

L2N:

I don't see a fist bump emoji, so I'll use the chest bump emoji  :chestbump: From one compulsive writer to another, I enjoy our interactions.

:chestbump: I enjoy them as well. 

L2N

You've reignited my passion for writing. Just wanted you to know that.

I believe that when we share ourselves with others, we influence, whether we realize it or not. You have influenced me to explore my own love for writing.

Thanks for that.

:heythere:

Papa Coco I am glad to hear that. I can't wait to read some of your creations. 

Sometimes I feel like a ghost walking in the land of the living - unseen, unheard and unneeded. When these feelings come I withdraw and avoid contact with anyone. Once I isolate then the symptoms seem to snowball. I isolate and then am depressed because I make my self be alone. It is foolish to put myself in this position, because although I wish for connection I reject it when I receive it. 

Because I see myself as inherently unworthy I believe I create situations where I feel rejected. Being rejected is normal and, I hate to say it, comfortable to me. Then I become irritable and angry. I then begin to feel sorry for myself. Usually I do not recognize the spiral and as I plummet into self pity it all becomes a self fulfilling prophecy.

Many things precipitate this, it could be a memory, a sound, a smell or a look on someone's face. But when it begins I seem powerless to stop it. I hate being this way. I feel weak and helpless. Very seldom I can pull myself out of this destructive path and, yet, I suppose if I can do it once then there is hope that I can do it more often. 

Yeah. That 100%.

But recognizing the pattern is the first step. Even after the fact. Eventually you'll recognize it sooner in the process. Then you'll learn ways to interupt it. It's so dang slow but there is hope. And the fact you see that pattern means you are going toward healing. Keep going!

Armee, I had to think about that for a minute, but your right. If I see the pattern I can eventually fix it. Thanks for that!!!!

L2N,

I'm glad you shared this. There's nothing like the support of friends who know a bit about what you are sharing.

I've also felt that same sort of thing where I choose to be "comfortably uncomfortable" with the devil that I know. My past poor self-image. I hate it, but I know how to live with it. Being proud of myself is something I used to be punished for, so I am NOT comfortable being comfortable. But I'm getting better. Little by little I'm getting better.

I agree with Armee. Recognizing the triggers as TRAUMA is the most important first step.

You're in my thoughts.

Sorry I wasn't super clear. Your post really reminded me of my trials through trying to get a handle on dissociation. At first I didn't even know i was dissociating (but I do quite badly). The very first step was just knowing it was happening. From there I could look for clues it was happening in the moment. Eventually I caught the signs earlier. That's important because once you're deep in a trauma reaction you feel very powerless. But once you train yourself to see it sooner you have more power to do something. I'm gonna be honest that took years not months.

Papa Coco for years I thought I was odd and completely different from everyone around me. Knowing that I am not alone and that my reactions are perfectly normal for someone who has had trauma is a comfort to me. We, through a horrendous twist of fate, are family in that we share the same struggle and are able to encourage, empathize and strengthen one another. 

Armee My not getting what you said right away was a testament to my density, not the clarity of what you wrote. Sometimes, for me, the simplest things allude me and I have to shake myself out of my stupor to get it. Your response pointed out the obvious that I simply missed, that is, being able to see the pattern means that work can be done to break the pattern. I will say that I appreciate the wisdom and encouragement of folks like you. So, don't be sorry and know I deeply appreciate your input.

What a nice way to put it: You said, "We, through a horrendous twist of fate, are family in that we share the same struggle and are able to encourage, empathize and strengthen one another." 

This is a family I'm proud to be a part of.

Visiting the men in prisons is inspiring. Very inspiring. What a great opportunity for you to experience these men and to see their struggles as clearly as you see them.

It's believed by trauma therapists that childhood trauma is the greatest pandemic of the entire world. If people could stop traumatizing children, only those few who are born evil would be in prison, and world peace would become possible for all the rest of us.

The greatest sadness I face each day is being able to see the pain of the world that surrounds me. Often, it's not even my pain that brings me to tears, but the pain of those who've been dealt even deeper struggles than I was.

When I was first diagnosed with PTSD (in 2015 CPTSD was not really recognized) I was in a very bad way. After I got out of the hospital I wanted to find a Psychiatrist and seek out a therapist. The first Psychiatrist I saw was very unempathetic. In the course of our conversation my childhood came up and her reaction was pretty devastating. She balled her hands into fists and then rubbed them under her eyes and said, "You were feeling down and then thought, Oh boohoo I had a hard childhood. You need to get over that." I was speechless.

The next Psychiatrist loaded me up on a cocktail of meds. I was living in a haze. The therapy I received was not trauma informed. I spent the next few years going from therapist to therapist. After several years I stopped the meds, big mistake, it took me nearly 6 months to wean myself off. I will never take them again. The meds were of little value anyway.

What did help my depression was a dietary change I made to control my diabetes (type 1). The lessening of my depression was an unexpected bonus. At this point in my journey I am seeing a therapist who is diligent to inform herself about trauma and has helped me greatly. I will not see a Psychiatrist again because they are pill pushers. I received no practical advice or help from any of the doctors I saw. I trusted them and they failed me. 

As I said, I have been very fortunate to find a therapist that thinks outside of the box. She got me involved in a study, that she and I work on together, that is looking into effective ways to help folks with CPTSD and DD. Though I just started I believe it is going to be beneficial. We have been doing parts work which initially I had a hard time with. It seemed odd and silly. However, I gave it a try and have found it helpful as well. Trauma is so interconnection with mental health that I don't understand why it is not a foundational part of training in therapy. 

I have had bad experiences with psychiatrists, medications, and CBTs, but wow. Balling up her fists, rubbing her eyes, and saying "Boo hoo"???? That's malpractice. That's worse than anything I've experienced in a CBT's office. She should be doing jail time for that behavior.

I'm very glad you found a therapist who is helping. It makes a 100% difference. The wrong T's make it worse. the right ones bring hope.

I'm glad you found a right one.

Papa Coco, my T knows of this psychiatrist. She has heard similar stories. It was pretty devastating when the psychiatrist said that. I was already in a state of confusion not understanding what was wrong with me. That about threw me over the edge. Unfortunately I have developed a distrust of doctors. I feel more like an inconvenience to them than a patient who was being cared for. 

I had a couple of T's that I felt were incompetent. Fortunately I have found a T that is helpful and is taking it slow. 

When depression hits I find that eating a healthy diet and exercise are better than any pill I could take. Psychiatrists are the most unhelpful MD's I have ever seen. They simply prescribe. It seems modern medicine is trained to push pills. 

Wow! That is awful! I literally feel like I was punched in the gut just reading what she said to you! That person should not be practicing. How awful. I'm so glad you are safely with someone good now and I feel the same about psychiatrists generally tho personally I haven't been to one.

I meant to respond to your post about parts work. It's been really helpful to me tho I felt the same way and sometimes still do about it being a bit weird, and I worried it would make aspects of dissociative symptoms worse (like cause more fragmentation and differentiation) but it has made it better and more integrated generally. It gives space between me and the trauma reactions. I've also seen it really work for connecting the parts of my mind that store traumatic material with the rest of my mind which means when I am triggered I am less likely to get stuck in the blackhole of flashbacks (tho this week is an exception to that). Dollyvee I think recommended a book or podcast by someone who wrote a book that I like for those of us with more dissociative symtpoms...Joanne Twombly...check her out. Thanks for the rec, Dolly. Anyway yeah I was very resistant to parts work but see it helping me, especially in combination with emdr techniques.

The way I think about it that feels less woowoo is that trauma and our reactions are stored in all these discrete closed off parts of our brains...these bundles of neurons that wire and fire together, but that are not connected to the rest of our neurons very efficiently or at all thiugh there might be loose connections to other parts that guard or are related to the trauma (protector parts etc). These bundles of neurons are what parts are to me.

But when there's a trigger I get dropped into one of these parts of my brain that is all trauma and not connected to the nontrauma parts of my brain and I don't have a way out because those neurons aren't connected to the rest of me. I see parts work as building the neuronal network between nontrauma brain and the trauma pockets so that when I get triggered I also have access to everything else and can leave that part of my mind...2 way traffic, building new freeway on ramps and offramps...

Armee, your definition of parts work really helps. My greatest fear was being led into some form of DID that would make things worse. But seeing the parts as you describe makes perfect sense. Thank you for taking the time to share that. Much appreciated. 

Little2Nothing, I agree with what Armee says about IFS work. It's definitely not DID, but it is about how our emotional memories hide in different places, only to be revived when today's emotions match the emotions that drove it into hiding when we were younger.

I credit IFS work for most of the healing I've done this past year. Getting to know the various parts of myself, and how they rally around to help, has given a lot of relief and a good bit stronger control over my emotional regulation. In The Body Keeps the Score, Bessel Van der Kolk helps explain IFS work well also. He cites that it was invented in the 1880s, but hasn't been really utilized until just these last couple of years. I think of it as the best long-term treatment I have found so far.

Whenever my therapist finds a part, he asks me if I can tell how old the part is. When I say "7" or "14" he knows when that part split out in my head. We talk to that part with a little gestalt play. I need to be emotionally connected to the part to make this work. This is not intellectual knowledge, we are working with emotional knowledge. My body and emotions need to be engaged. My head can take a break. My rational brain is strong and healthy. It's my emotional and physical consciousnesses that are confused. Once I feel like I understand and "feel" how that part was trying to help me, I can often sort of "bring it into the fold" and live in a grayer area; less black and white. Gray is where life is. The good happens with the bad. I've lived in b/w world where it was either all good or all bad. That's what I call my Cptsd-bipolar-coaster ride. Trauma keeps me focused only on one mood or the other. IFS helps me accept that life is all the moods blended healthily together.

Van Der Kolk's book is very informative on how trauma is formed and how it is best treated.

I woke up this morning feeling weary. I hate the time change and because I rise very early in the morning it seems to make it worse. I don't know what today holds for me. Though I am feeling well except for the fatigue.

I see my T today and though I look forward to the time I also dread it. We are doing parts work and there are some parts I would rather not look into. It's silly because those many facets of myself are always with me. So far the work we have done is very triggering for me. After each session I spend the next few days brooding over what we have done. 

Through all of this my wife has been a rock. I have become more accustomed to talking with her about how I feel and how my visits with my T are going. At first it was difficult to share with her because I felt like I was dumping too much on her. I am finding that having someone close to me that I can talk to is extremely helpful.

My dogs (2 Aussies) are always a comfort. They seem to know when I'm having a bad day and stay close to me. They are the nicest dogs I've ever had. The female will lay next to me on the couch and lay her head in my lap. Dogs are such a gift. 

Just rambling today, currently my spirit is quiet. My day will start soon, as for now I'm drinking coffee and enjoying a time of quietness. I will enjoy this while it last.

Good to hear that your wife is such a rock. That's a huge help.

And those Aussie shepherds are amazing dogs. My son and his wife got one two years ago. She is the most psychic dog I've ever experienced. Sometimes I SWEAR I can hear her thinking about me when I'm not even with her. She loves her family, and has some odd connection to me. I visit there only once a month or so, but she won't leave me alone the whole time I'm there. She lays on my lap. She comes to live with us when the kids take vacations. And when she's not with me, I swear I feel her thinking about me.

That's really awesome that you have two of those Aussie Shepards.

PC Aussies are awesome dogs. They are extremely loving and loyal. 

Trigger Warning - CSA

Of all the things I endured growing up, the worst was the betrayal and manipulation of being used for another's perverse desires. That has caused the greatest pain and sorrow. It is also the last thing I have ever revealed about my life growing up. The first time I admitted to this was in 2023 when I revealed it, very reluctantly, to my T. 

That revelation opened up a floodgate of despair and anguish. The act of saying it out loud and shedding light on the violation brought weeks of shame and agony that I feel today. I speak of it here because I know the folks here understand and because I do not have to look anyone in the eye when I talk about it. The shame would be overwhelming. I am a stranger to all of you so that gives me some anonymity.

Anyway, I wrote the following poem to express how I feel. Again thanks for reading this.

Your voice is gone

 Your eyes are young
As light from shadows flee

Years come and go
That you could never be

The weight grows dense
You fear the growing din

Hope seems so far
To chase the fear away

You have a real gift for poetry.

Thanks PapaCoco, I really appreciate the encouragement. 

That is a beautifully written poem. Well done. I hope writing it has given you some comfort.

NarcKiddo, thanks for the compliment. It does help to write, I feel like I can express myself better that way.

I have posted so many negative things about my past and how I'm feeling. So I thought I would write something a little more positive. Hope this is helpful to other folks.

Out of the storm
My heart is free
No tempest rages round me

Do not despair
Your life is yours
With new wings your spirit soars

Good things will come
The bad eschew
Peaceful days will be your due

You stumbled once
But now you're strong
No dark foe shall linger long

Out of the storm
In hope I soar
With despair I'll live no more.

Hi Little2Nothing,
I read your poem, and it is lovely.
Hope  :)

Thank you Hope67, I really appreciate that.

I have had limited contact with my FOO for nearly 40 years. The last time I spent a holiday with them there was a huge fight and as usual the day was ruined. At that time I had just been married and was living 400 miles away from any of them. My wife and I traveled back to my home town to see all of them. It was a disaster and after being away from the chaos for a few years it was also a shock. I determined at that moment that I would never subject my new family to them again.

That's not to say that I haven't on occasion seen any of them, I have. But never to a family function. I has one brother, who was not raised with me, that I was in contact with quite often. He and I had no bad history. When we got together it was always civil and enjoyable. The toxic part of my family would be excluded most of the time. If I did see them it was in a controlled public place.

I have to admit that there are times I miss my dysfunction family members, not in a nostalgic way, but because they are my family. Even with those feelings I avoid them because I know no good would come from bringing them back into my life. 

I especially shielded my children from these people. My mother saw them very seldom and never alone. I would not let them go and stay with grandma because she was one of the meanest people I have ever known. Their exposure to her was every few years. Nothing consistent. My M protested often in heated phone calls, but I would not relent and flatly told her that her alcohol problem, language and anger were the reason she couldn't see them more often.

My M, stepfather and several siblings have passed and are no longer a problem. My kids never really knew my parents well. They know grandma was a very sick woman. I'm sure they will eventually regret not getting to know her, but that isn't their fault, it is mine. I will bear the weight of my own choice. I hope, in the long run, they will understand that I kept them from her for their own good. Then again, maybe it won't be an issue for them. I suppose I will never really know. 

Little2Nothing,

I'm impressed by how well you shielded your family from your FOO. In your last paragraph you said, "...My kids never really knew my parents well. They know grandma was a very sick woman. I'm sure they will eventually regret not getting to know her, but that isn't their fault, it is mine. I will bear the weight of my own choice...."

I just want to say that from where I'm sitting, this wasn't your fault, it was your M's fault. The word fault makes it sound like you did the wrong thing. You didn't. You did the right thing. The fact that your kids needed protecting from a monstrous person forced your hand to doing the right thing. So, from where I'm sitting, I think you could safely rephrase that line to, "...but that isn't their fault, it's hers[/u]...."

That being said, I agree that you were between a rock and a hard place. Every kid wants to know their grandparents, but she was dangerous and a soul crusher. A parent's top job is protect and nurture their children. I think you held that job with honor and respect for yourself and your children.

I wish more people would protect their kids the way you did.

I agree with Papa Coco. And from where I'm sitting I think it could be less likely than you think that your children will eventually regret not getting to know your mother. After all, they have spent some time in her presence. Children pick up on the atmosphere around them much more than one might think. From what you say I doubt your mother had a pleasant atmosphere around her. If they had never met her there would be a possibility that she would get some mythical importance to them - the grandma they were prevented from meeting.

I am very glad I did not see my maternal grandmother all that much. I was never protected from her and time in her company was utterly vile. It was simply the happy circumstances of geography and the fact she disliked me so had no desire to spend time with me that meant I spent as little time with her as I did.

Thanks PC and NK, sometimes its hard to see the positive.

I was ruminating recently on memories, the present and my future. I have to admit that I felt extremely hopeless and helpless. That hopelessness is reflective of my life over 40 years ago. As a child I was powerless against the rage and abuse of my caregivers. That powerlessness produced a profound negativity about life in general.

When things go wrong, or looked like they would go wrong, my reaction borders on near despair. I overreact to things small and large. I read into peoples actions without a clue to their true motive. I live in anticipation that the "other shoe will soon drop." I assume the worst and expect the worst. It is a vicious cycle which leads to despair and hopelessness.

Yet that hopelessness is a mere emotional reaction, it is how I'm programmed to respond. Yet I live every day performing hopeful acts. I have realized that going to therapy is an act of hope. I'm looking for healing and resolution of my past. Reading books on recovery, writing my thoughts here on OOTS, practicing mindfulness and participation in a study on CPTSD and DD are all acts of hope.

Sometimes my mind and emotions lie to me. My trauma works overtime to produce a constant state of emptiness. Looking around me I have much to be hopeful about - my wife, my kids, and my grandkids bring happiness. I have good friends who care about me and have stood by me for 30 years. The traumatized part of me wants to negate these things, wants me to constantly swim in a pool of darkness. It succeeds more often than not.

It seems strange to me that fear, sorrow and emptiness always seem to take the ascendancy in my thinking. Even in the face of good and beneficial things it seems to win. The more that I'm aware of my condition the harder that darkness seems to fight for survival. I truly want it to die. I want to stand over its grave and bid it good riddance. My therapist has told me that these reactions were survival mechanism and that is probably true, but now they have become rancid and putrid, they have no redeeming value, they only wish to keep me in a perpetual black hole where no light or goodness can penetrate.

I am determined to pursue hopeful things in the hope that this determined hopelessness will eventual be rendered inert.

It is such a huge act of hope to start healing. You are doing so well being willing to face this stuff. Many people never develop the ability to do what you are doing, just trying.

The despair, over-reactions, emptiness, all those feelings that come up that feel disproportionate...this is so understandable (and common). It took awhile but I finally get that when these things happen it's not because I am overreacting to the present but because I have been triggered and am now reacting to and FROM the past.

When this is happening, when things feel so so bad? That's a flashback without pictures. You have been dumped with no warning or choice into the part of your brain that went thru some of the worst things a child can go thru and that part of your brain starts to respond to the present situation too. It takes some work to be able to take back over as the adult. I found that once I got dumped in a trauma section of my brain thru triggering, I didn't have a way to get back out and so I'd spend days overreacting and in despair until something managed to reset my brain. All out of my control. I had to actually build like a neuro-pathway from the parts of my brain that hold the past to present adult me so I could voluntarily travel back and forth rather than be dumped and trapped in there.

Thanks to the dissociative barriers we had to build there are not connections in our brains that should be there because we had to close those parts of our mind off to survive. So traumatic reminders get instant access like a trapdoor but we can't willingly come and go at first. This is where parts work comes in. It's been really effective for me and like you I hated the idea at first and resisted.

Oh and grandparents...I thought my kids didn't understand that my mom was messed up and also felt bad for not letting them spend more time with her. But once she passed my son started talking about how mean and crazy she was. They see these things. They may not regret not knowing them though they may regret the idea of not having loving grandparents. Are your wife's parents in their life and healthy?

Armee, that all makes sense to me. Yet, it is extremely difficult. Though I have started to communicate more with my wife and she cares deeply, there is still a big part of me that stays hidden. I feel so weak and unlovable. I am embarrassed by that weakness and am afraid that the core of who I am will be revealed and drive her and others away.

The emotional reactions I have are intense and unpredictable. My T has been helping me see the impact of the trauma I endured. What you have written is very helpful, because it paints an accurate picture of what I am feeling and why. I really appreciate you taking the time to write your response, it makes me not feel as alone as I usually do.

TW SA

During a session with my therapist about my main abuser, she said what he did wasn't about sex, but about power. That statement angered me. Of course it was about sex, for him. The power was just a bonus for that monster. When she said that it seemed to me to be an excuse for what he had done. The violation I endured was perpetrated by a perverse man wanting to fulfill his deep perverted needs. He wanted to gratify himself at my expense. That goes for the others who abused me. Saying it was about power seemed to minimize the real crime. 

Adults who prey on children for sexual gratification are a special kind of beast. They are slaves to their propensities and the children they harm are just meat to them. A commodity, something to be used and thrown away. While he was enjoying his "power" my future was stolen. I have suffered the effects of his and others despicable behavior for nearly 60 years. He derived sexual pleasure from grooming, frightening and using me. Those things fed his twisted desires. From start to finish it was all about his sexual fulfillment. 

I had to get that off my chest. The whole encounter angered me. I know it would never be her intention to trigger me and I never told her what I was feeling, which is unfair to my T. So when I see her tomorrow I will talk to her about it. 

Thanks for saying that. When you share with your T it will be helpful for many, for her to hear that perspective, plus healthy to get some of that anger expressed.

I struggled with some of the same thoughts about the gang rape that was set up to be perpetrated against me after rejecting the advances of an old man. That situation was more a mix of both power and gratification. Getting to take what they want no matter what. But I did have a hard time with the power vs gratification question. It's both, and especially in combination both are horrid things to do to a human and especially a child. I am so so so sorry they used you in that way and harmed you for life. Right now it's a wound. I feel confident that one day with honesty to yourself, compassion for younger you, and open communication with your T and wife that this will become a scar instead of an open wound.  Gentle safe nontouch hugs from a stranger far away. 

You're right to discuss it with your T. I also think it is probably good that you did not choose to communicate the anger as you were feeling it, but have instead processed some of your thoughts in advance of sharing it with her. Of course a good therapist will be able to handle whatever emotion you throw at them in the moment, but I don't think it is necessarily always the best thing for us to do. My T once triggered me so badly (over a very simple administrative matter) that I nearly sacked her. This was nearly two years ago and I still have not told her about that!

I'm not sure it is helpful to categorise the intentions of an abuser - or even possible. We cannot ever know precisely what their motivation is, in the same way that we can never truly know what somebody else is thinking. Even if someone says what they are thinking, they may put a spin on it depending on the audience. At any rate, that is what my T says, and she therefore makes me concentrate on what I think and we talk about that. At some point you and your T might find it very informative to discuss just why you got so upset at the suggestion that the motivation was power rather than sex. Perhaps not now if you are still feeling raw about it. A big emotional reaction is always something to note and explore when the time is right. Your T has inadvertently touched a raw nerve - but the surface issue may not be the full picture of what is triggering you.

Maybe by looking at the perpetrator, your T is somehow "explaining away" their actions. And perhaps there should be no "reflection" whatsoever regarding the perpetrator. This is a sub-human who doesn't deserve your time or "understanding" in any form. I think I understand your anger. I've spent my whole life trying to "understand" others motives. I had to to survive. The result is I've "wasted" my life on others?!? I've no idea who "I" am now. Why should I pay someone to analyze other people, let alone an abuser? How does that help me? Does it help me? Perhaps answering that question will clarify the feelings that came up.

Littel2Nothing,

I really got swept away by your comments that we were just meat to them. [TRIGGER WARNING: Childhood Sexual Abuse--body memories without cognitive memories]>>> As I read it, I felt it. I have very chopped up memories of my abuser. I was seven. He was an adult. My cognitive memories are so chopped up that I really can't place how it was that he got me alone to do what he did, nor do I have any idea how many times it happened. I woke up in the classroom in third grade a few times having no idea where I'd been for the past hour or two. Almost like alien abductions, I experienced complete 1 to2 hour time losses at school on more than one occasion. But what my body remembers is what he smelled like, his body heat, visions of the thick black body hair on his arms, and...as I read your comments, I suddenly remembered feeling a spiritual sense of him having no soul. Like he had absolutely NO compassion for me as a human being. I have always remembered feeling abandoned by God because I somehow recall having prayed so hard for God to make him to stop, but God ignored me and the man...just...wouldn't...stop. It literally felt like he was not human. Like he was a cold-blooded alligator enjoying a meal.

So, I REALLY, truly understand your anger. I feel anger for what you went through, which revives my personal anger that these men are soulless and completely incapable of feeling the pain they are inflicting. Sometimes I feel like I've grown past the anger. Like I've accepted that psychopaths exist with us and they "know not what they do" and that my forgiveness of them has brought me peace. But then, every now and then, I remember how horrific it is to be caught in their snares, and I realize I haven't made peace with it at all.

I think this trigger for me, from your sharing, is a gift that I can use as I explore the way my life goes in and out of acceptance. I've been feeling like I'm DID or Bi-Polar or something. Like...if I've forgiven these people, why am I still traumatized? 

I just read an internet article on the 18 things that identify a person who had a traumatic childhood, and I was able to connect with 17 of them. I shook my head and thought, but my childhood wasn't that bad, so HOW do I have 17 of the 18 traits? (the only one I didn't have was a sense of wanting to lash out aggressively).  I think you've provided a much-needed spark for me to stop hiding again from the horror of being with someone who has no soul. No connection to other human beings.

You shared a deep part of yourself today here which has blessed me with a revival of something I need to address in myself...my own anger and unmitigable frustration at how I was consumed like a meal by someone who had no right to do what he did.

Thank you from the bottom of my heart for having the courage or compulsion to share it. Not addressing this anger in myself allows it to fester unnoticed. I really want to work through this for myself as you work through it in your own life.

Thanks for showing me that I'm not alone in this anger and for giving me a sense that the anger is real and its justified and it isn't going away just because I'm feeling calm every now and then. My anger for what was done to you, gives me permission to feel it for what was done to all of us, myself included.

Little2, Papacoco, I hope anger can help. I hope for anything that could help you. I cannot relate to these experiences, not by a long shot. But I sympathize and support as much as possible. I am so very sorry for your abuse. Please accept if you can my effort at understanding something totally incomprehensible.

I know the anger made me vigilante to watch over my kids. And now later in life my grandkids. 

The anger also eats at the core of my being. It robs me of peace and joy. I cannot conceive of how to forgive so heinous a violation. I feel trapped by the guilt, shame and sorrow I have. 

My heart goes out to anyone who has had their personhood violated, such crimes should elicit the harshest punishment. Rape, sexual abuse of children, etc. Is rarely punished to the degree it deserves. That is triggering in itself. 

Society, or at least the legal system, places little weight to these evil deeds. A child's life is only worth a few years of punishment, but mine will continue until the day I die. 

PC, it breaks my heart that you endured CSA. Those experiences make us brothers who have survived insurmountable odds. 

What they did didn't break us though we struggle in the aftermath. We can't forget it, we can't change it, but we can encourage one another until we find some semblance of healing and peace. 

Armee, I am sorry that happened to you. You are such an encourager and care deeply about others. I am so glad you take the time to respond to me. 

NK I appreciate your comments and advice. I will share what my T says after we talk. You are right that it is good I didn't express my anger immediately. 

Chart, thanks for your input and empathy. 

Today there is a calming breeze and I am sitting here enjoying its freshness. Bees are hovering around the bush by the window and it is somewhat soothing to watch them be busy doing their jobs. Right now I can see the beauty of nature all around me, it started with a gorgeous sunrise. The cheerful song of God's feathered songsters brought tears to my eyes. 

I am grateful for this respite. It is as if God directed everything around me to speak peace to me today. These days are far and few between, but when they come it gives me hope. Not everything is ugly and cruel. I just wanted to share something positive.

L2N,
 I love this post (#64).

 I hope you have occasion to share many more like this.  :hug:

Best,
-Slashy

Quote from: Little2Nothing on April 19, 2024, 03:53:47 PMToday there is a calming breeze and I am sitting here enjoying its freshness. Bees are hovering around the bush by the window and it is somewhat soothing to watch them be busy doing their jobs. Right now I can see the beauty of nature all around me, it started with a gorgeous sunrise. The cheerful song of God's feathered songsters brought tears to my eyes.

I am grateful for this respite. It is as if God directed everything around me to speak peace to me today. These days are far and few between, but when they come it gives me hope. Not everything is ugly and cruel. I just wanted to share something positive.

:)  :)

I like to read positive things in among the horrors. I especially like descriptions of nature and animals, including bees and my favourite bumblebees.

I'm happy your environment is speaking peace today and that you are feeling hope. :sunny:

Little2Nothing,

Nice share. The sun is shining today here. I think I need to follow your lead and go sit on the porch with a cup of coffee and find a moment of peace.

Enjoy your day,
PC.

I'm sitting here listening to the old Italian Crooners and it is making me feel so sad. 

They bring back such a rush of memories. Mostly sad, but for some reason I can't bring myself to turn them off. 

They make me miss something, but I really don't know what. Maybe it is a form of mourning. 

L2L,

There are times when sad music or sad movies are what I feel like I need for some reason. Music has a powerful power over us. But there are times when my own sadness wants to be respected, and sad music actually helps me feel connected.

For me, listening to upbeat music is only appropriate when I feel like I handle it. If I listen to upbeat music when I want sad music, the upbeat music just grates on my nerves like sandpaper.

I hope the crooners gave you a nice friendly visit with the sad parts of you that just wanted to be crooned for a while.

You may be onto something. It may be a form of mourning. And mourning has a purpose too.

TW
The realization hit me today that this escapade through suffering will never end. The perpetual sadness and memories are endless.

I want to scream in rage at tje injustice of it all. How do you navigate all of this? Therapy is helpful but only so far. Every day is a struggle, and every effort to heal feels fruitless. I don't know who I am or who I should be. I feel fake and empty.

Maybe tomorrow will be better.

 :hug:
I hear you and empathize L2N. I sometimes wonder how much of my suffering is due to being an HSP (highly sensitive person). So many people on this forum strike me as HSP's, you included. I might be wrong but we seem to just "feel" so much more intensely. That's my impression. And thus the pain is also that much more. PapaCoco has often talked about this. I don't know what our "consolation" is for being hsp. For the moment I've yet to identify any concrete advantages. The only thing that comes to mind is perhaps a deeper spiritual understanding. For me that's Buddhism, but I've yet to achieve any marked diminution of my daily pain from that. Perhaps my actual knowledge and practice is lacking. Wish I could help more. Hugs if that's ok.
 :hug:

Thanks Chart. I do feel deeply which I think allows me to empathize with others suffering. I think it makes my own pain more acute. 

L2N,
 I completely sympathize with your frustration. What happened to you was not your choice and not your fault. Now here you are left to try to clean up the mess.

 I've realized with creeping horror that I have *many* more episodes buried in my head than i have which I remember. I think the point of therapy isn't to somehow dig them all up and 'process' them, but simply get to the point where the past is no longer interfering with the present and the future.

 I truly believe we all can attain that.

Best wishes,
-Slashy

Hi Little2Nothing,
I also think that music is so powerful in how it affects our emotions, and you related to a sense of mourning, and that definitely takes time.  I hope that tomorrow is a kinder day, whatever happens.
 :hug:
Hope  :)

Hope, music is powerful. There are some songs the really speak to me and move me to tears. There is a kind of comfort in their sadness.

I have been in therapy for nearly two years with the same T. I can see some of the progress I have made, though at times I think it has been too slow. Personally I would like to deal with things more quickly. My T, however, thinks moving slower is safer and will be more effective. I suppose it would be hard to just rip the bandage off of 16 years of abuse and not expect issues. 

The study I'm involved in (TopDD) has a lot of good information. The process so far has been to learn how to stay grounded, deal with memories, etc. I will say that all these processes are simple in theory, but very difficult to implement. One element is knowing your triggers, or at least recognizing when you are being triggered. This is very difficult for me. Sometimes I am already caught up in the emotion and trying to bring it under control is no easy task.

Today is one of those days when I feel nothing. I'm neither happy nor sad, I am just empty. Though I guess "empty" is a feeling. I'm writing this knowing that someone may read it. That gives me connection and assures me that I am not alone. The worst part of CPTSD, for me, is the sense of isolation and loneliness. At the moment I am by myself and that loneliness is magnified. Later my family will be here (wife and kids) and I will not be physically alone. However, that doesn't mean the sense of loneliness will abate. Connection is hard for me.

Probably none of that makes any sense. The one thing about OOTS is it gives me an outlet and a sense of belonging. Though this is all anonymous and none of you really know me, I take comfort in associating with folks who have been where I've been and consequently can relate to my story.

"The worst part of CPTSD, for me, is the sense of isolation and loneliness. At the moment I am by myself and that loneliness is magnified. Later my family will be here (wife and kids) and I will not be physically alone. However, that doesn't mean the sense of loneliness will abate. Connection is hard for me.
Probably none of that makes any sense."

 It makes perfect sense, actually.   :yes:

 If I wasn't so very much the same way, I'd probably still be married.

 Stay strong,
-Slashy
 

It all makes perfect sense and nearly any of us could have written it word for word.

I don't know if it helps. Me and my T went too fast at first. It doesn't work. There are so many issues with going fast but one really big one is you end up triggered or dissociated during therapy itself and that time in therapy spent in those states outside the window of tolerance means effective healing work can't take place. So you are essentially wasting that time. There are many many other reasons to go slow, but that is one. Two years isn't long for trauma and dissociation. I'm going on 5.5 years now. I really hope to be done by the end of this year but realistically it might be another full year. But there's been massive improvement along the way it's not like 2 or 5 or 6 years of not feeling better. So please don't feel bad it's taking awhile. It does. But this is intricate work being done. Reworking how our brain and nervous system functions. Keep going!

Thanks, Armee, I always appreciate you wisdom. I will defer to my T's guidance. I can see how going too fast could cause major problems.

Slashy, it is helpful to know that others have the same issues. 

Hi Little2Nothing,
Going at a pace that is slower is most likely a good thing.  Rushing it could be potentially damaging.  I think it takes a significant amount of time.  I think you're doing well - making progress.

Hope  :)

My mother and I had a volatile relationship. We got along sometimes, but when she was upset it was difficult to be around her. When I ran away at 13 our relationship was cordial almost sterile. I can't remember that she ever asked me how I was, where I was staying, if I was getting enough to eat, etc. It never entered her mind.

Living on the street was difficult, especially in the winter. Shelter was not readily available and back then no one was worried about hobos and bums. In the area where I lived there were no soup kitchens or shelter that you could go to for the night. I had to fend for myself. 

Over the years I thought that I had forgiven her. She wasn't really in my life and I would only see her under controlled conditions. I kept her from my kids, except for the brief period when she lived with us. She didn't care when I got married. Was never particularly fond of her grandkids. 

Now I find myself thinking about her more than I ever did before. She abandoned me, ridiculed me, let me go hungry, let me have inadequate clothing, and didn't bat an eye when I was sleeping in a school yard. I don't know why she did all of that and I suppose I never will. 

But, right now, I feel an anger toward her I have never felt before. She was my mother, why didn't she love me or take care of me? I am angry because she had me, her last child, even after she had abandoned every other baby she birthed. I am angry about the way I was raised, about the orphanage, scavenging for food, having shoes with holes in the soles. I am angry about her taking me to my abusers house, trying to give me to a strange man for money. I am angry that she made me carry the guilt of her beatings.

Most of all, I am angry for being angry. This is all in the past and I can't seem to rise above it. I wallow in its sorrow, groveling for someone to care and knowing no one could conceivable understand the anguish that cripples me almost daily. I am a caricature of a man, lost, fumbling with no sense of normalcy. I will carry this to the grave. I feel like I am allowing her past abuse to continue to abuse me. 

Little2, if pain were a commodity and a child came to you, in pain, and asked you if you would help them. What would you do? I think you would look into that child's eyes and you would know their suffering. You would see the trauma etched in their young face and your heart would surge. "Yes," you would say, "Give me your pain, you do not deserve what you have suffered. Give it to me, I will take it all. You are too young and I am so sorry for your hurts, though I too am blameless. But I cannot bear to see one so innocent suffer as I did."
Am I wrong? Would you not do that?

So that child is you. And you, the adult is carrying the pain of you the child. You are in pain so that the child in you can, even if just a little, be free of that pain.

The suffering you are now enduring is the validation of the suffering you endured as a child. It is the very proof of a love for yourself that you never got from those that created you.

You are suffering because you love yourself. Please never doubt your capacity for love.  Let that love grow out of the cracks of suffering. Let it continue to grow and grow making shade and soothing the blindness of the child's pain. It is your guide. Follow it, stay with it, hold it tight. Take it into you, and then you will perhaps see, feel, hear or touch a hard joy.

Through no fault of your own you never had a mother, but to all your credit you have always had love. I admire you beyond what I can put into words.

I have never thought of suffering as a form of self love. But, I can see how one might conclude that. 

I never particularly thought I loved myself, yet, the ability to survive would indicate a love for self. 

Thanks Chart, for giving me a new perspective!

Quote from: Little2Nothing on May 03, 2024, 03:06:23 PMOver the years I thought that I had forgiven her.

I thought that too about various FOO members. It might be maddening or disappointing or painful or something else entirely to find out that actually, no, you or I or any of us had not actually forgiven. I think that's just part and parcel of the journey of healing - feeling this on a different level and/or the onion layers, the realisations. You might feel stuck for a while, I do anyway, but I think there's movement, there's progress even when we can't feel it.

Quote from: Little2Nothing on May 03, 2024, 03:06:23 PMBut, right now, I feel an anger toward her I have never felt before. She was my mother, why didn't she love me or take care of me? I am angry because she had me, her last child, even after she had abandoned every other baby she birthed. I am angry about the way I was raised, about the orphanage, scavenging for food, having shoes with holes in the soles. I am angry about her taking me to my abusers house, trying to give me to a strange man for money. I am angry that she made me carry the guilt of her beatings.

I think anger is healthy and you have every reason to feel angry about what your M actively did to you and what situations she got you into by not caring for you properly.

Quote from: Little2Nothing on May 03, 2024, 03:06:23 PMMost of all, I am angry for being angry. This is all in the past and I can't seem to rise above it. I wallow in its sorrow, groveling for someone to care and knowing no one could conceivable understand the anguish that cripples me almost daily. I am a caricature of a man, lost, fumbling with no sense of normalcy. I will carry this to the grave. I feel like I am allowing her past abuse to continue to abuse me.

As I say, I think you have every reason to be angry, even though your M's actions/inactions are in the past. The effect of the trauma isn't in the past, that's what counts. On here, there are people who understand and have experienced daily anguish that cripples, even though it may be an anguish about different things and may cripple in different ways. Your words are poignant. I'm sorry you're feeling so lost and so much in pain at the moment.

I have been told things in the past, like by my behaviour I'm repeating the abuse done to me in the past or particulary in my case that I'm repeating the neglect, so I'm wondering if that's your own idea or something you've been told? There might be a bit of truth in there somehow but generally the abuse or neglect is on those who did it in our childhoods (or continue it now, as some FOO mbrs do) and it can take quite a number of years to realise what we're doing and then break the habits and find better ways of treating ourselves. In my experience, self-blame doesn't help.

 :yeahthat: x 10000

Forgiveness only seems possible to me if someone actively seeks it, as in there is true apology and intent to be different. Something to be done and given in response to someone seeking forgiveness.

Your mom's actions are not forgivable in my book and you owe no forgiveness. Anger is so very appropriate to the circumstances. You do not seem like an excessively angry or vengeful person. I don't believe your lack of forgiveness or your anger are in any way a problem or flaw.

I'm sorry for everything you've been through.

Thanks Armee and Blueberry for you comments. 

It is hard sometimes to know how or what I'm supposed to feel. One near  constant is the inconsolable loneliness I have. The anger just adds to it. 

I had buried the anger for a long time and it probably is healthy to let it out. 

Hi L2N

My T has helped me to recognize the difference between my unhealthy anger and my, what he calls, "Good anger."  When the anger is justified and is helping me to release pent up energy, he applauds it. Anger, when it's appropriate and not lashing out or hurting anyone, can be a physical release of pent-up anxiety or depression. And "good anger" doesn't really hurt anybody. Lashing out is bad anger. Self-destruction is bad anger and only prolongs or escalates the distress. But admitting when someone has been horrible to us, and blowing off a little steam is a release of bad energy.

When my FOO was at their very worst, I actually went to the craft store and bought some cloth dolls. I made small voodoo dolls and photographed them being caught in ceiling fans and stuff like that. Nobody got hurt. It added humor to my rage. Laughter and anger are not so different from each other. Both are releases of anxiety. Making a joke about it really helped me release a lot of pent-up, 50 yearlong rage against people who cannot be dealt with. My FOO was never going to change. They were 100% convinced they were right to abuse and blame me for all their failures. So, I took out my anger on some $1 dolls. Had some fun and moved on with my life.

I hope your anger gives you a little bit of a feeling of being alive and self-supporting.

If it's good anger, enjoy the feeling of release.

So, I was at church this past weekend and the topic of forgiveness came up. The consensus was that if you truly forgive then you will embrace the offender without question. Many there believed that forgiveness was generally unconditional and wiped the slate clean for the offender. In other words they get a do over. 

That might fly for some offenses. Not every foible a person commits is heinous. When someone acts out of character it is easy to not only forgive, but to, in essence, wipe the slate clean. However, not every situation is simple or incidental. So I recounted part of my childhood, excluding anything graphic, and stated that forgiveness is not always easy. I recounted that there are times I believe I have forgiven my mother and times when I'm not sure that I have. There are complicated scenarios that require a more circumspect approach. I posited the thought that a person might forgive without wiping the slate clean. Granting forgiveness is an act of self preservation to free us from the torment of anger and need for revenge. In most cases our offender does not care if we forgive and most likely will never ask for it. 

Also, the idea of wiping the slate clean with some people can be dangerous. I think that forgiving someone in essence means we no longer wish them harm, are happy when they are hurt, or become enraged when someone says something nice about them. It does not mean we have to embrace them back into our lives or give them trust they have never earned. 

Anyway, forgiveness is a difficult thing to grasp. It is something we must reconcile in ourselves. It is a personal act. I was saddened by the trite platitudes that were thrown around without thought. The act of forgiveness has no cookie cutter formula. I think that folks who had relatively good upbringings cannot conceive of the dark and wicked actions of some people. Nor do they understand the long term suffering that results form it. I wish that the church would be more compassionate towards those who have suffered great loss as children and recognize the pain they carry on a daily basis. I know God understands, but those who represent him have done a poor job of shepherding the hurt and lonely among us. If there is anyplace that should show empathy, patience and grace to people struggling with trauma it ought to be the church.

I'm so happy you spoke up as I know there were others listening who needed to hear that.

Armee, I'm glad I was able to enlighten them on a different perspective. I'm sad that understanding the impact of trauma is so foreign to most people. 

Yes... Speaking up is taking things in hand, acknowledging, saying Truth. Even better than anger, stating the true past is so important. The complexity of forgiveness is difficult to unravel and different in each case. But what impresses me is how far you have come in acknowledging and talking about your trauma. And in public!!! Congratulations so much. I think it's a huge sign of progress.

Chart, I told my T about this today and she said the same thing! For the first time I felt no shame talking about it. Normally I wouldn't mention any of my past, but I thought maybe what I said might help someone else who was there. 

I absolutely agree. As hard as it is to face and talk about I truly believe that silence is a million times more destructive. And the more I open up and talk about my abuse, the easier it gets for me AND I get better at communicating in a way that brings people closer as apposed to alienating. We on the front line (CPTSD-conscious) have to help those still locked away in a shame that is not of their making. There is in reality no shame. When that finally sinks in EVERYTHING changes. And that's when healing really starts.

**Trigger Warning**

Is there a point in this journey where the pain you carry is because you can't let go? Is the idea of trauma valid or do I claim it as an excuse for my own personal weakness. Letting go sounds so simple. Just drop it like garbage in a bin. When you find something disgusting you dispose of it. If you hold on to it then whatever the consequences of holding on is all on you. Is that how this struggle eventually ends? You should have let go, but you didn't so - shame on you.

I wonder at times if I struggle because the act of struggling is comfortable. I know it intimately, it has been a part of me for decades. I talk about it. Complain about it. Yet never seem to resolve it. It's a cancer that refuses to die. Misery is my constant companion. Try as I might I cannot remove it from my life. Is it because I don't want it gone? I simply do not know the answer.

Those past traumatic experiences will always be with me. I suppose over time that I can learn to keep them in the past. To see them at a distance and recognize that they are over and not a part of my life anymore. The internal consequences of the trauma are not so easily dismissed. The spontaneous memories, the nightmares, the emotional fluctuations all have a life of their own. Can these things be eradicated by an act of the will? If so - then shame on me. 

Forgetting about the past for a moment, I wanted to say something positive. In my life right now I have three wonderful blessings. Frist, my beautiful wife who has stood by me these many years. She is a wonderful soul who is patient and kind. I do not deserve her, but am glad she is in my life. Second, my children. They have all made me proud. They are loving parents and siblings. Third, my grandchildren. They are a bright spot in my life. I love their laughter, joyous screams of delight and the energy they carry with them. Their hugs melt my heart and when the say "I love you" it is medicine for my soul.

L2N, If there is one thing I've been told over and over again, and I firmly believe, is that Cptsd symptoms are not a question of willpower and just deciding to "get over" it.

If you believe in the process of Evolution (which I don't believe excludes the Spiritual in any way) then you are up against around 4 billion years of evolutionary refinement of a nervous system that is ONLY reinforced by survival. This system DOES NOT CARE if you are comfortable or not. It's only objective is that you reproduce successfully (survival). All other mental functioning is of secondary importance. Reestablishing comfort in the nervous system is way down on the brain's list of priorities. You had kids and successfully raised them to have kids. Your brain succeeded 100%. (Sorry, but that's all that matters to the brain. Though I might add, in order to combat the Shame a little bit, coming from where you've come from AND succeeding on the biological playing field, I think you could not help but see that you have an enormous amount of Success in your "being". You came out of Trauma and created Love all around you! THAT is truly something wonderful.)

There's much more to understand on a biological level. But for me the importance of realizing that we can't just change with "willpower" is extremely important. People who say otherwise are not supported by the neuroscientific evidence we now have. The adult brain retains a certain level of "plasticity" but it is nothing compared to the developing brain of a child.

I have personally fought my shame over this issue with Science, and there are a wealth of books out now that clearly show that a developing brain exposed to chronic trauma is dramatically different than a brain securely attached in infancy and childhood.

Here's a super video by Sebern Fisher that explains Neurofeedback, but along the way also the impact on the brain from DTD (Developmental Trauma Disorder). I'm reading her book at the moment as I'm looking to do a month of NeuroFeedback in August. I so relate to what you are talking about. I just want my pain to stop. It won't...
https://youtu.be/fiG3DXysqBs?si=SLJKgITtavAOu3UH

Sorry to rant! My goal is truly to help. It's a struggle what we have and it just doesn't go away easily. Sending love and hugs and sorry again for going so long. I'll delete no problem if there's anything you're not okay with.

You made a beautiful family. They clearly see things in you that, almost certainly because of your trauma, you have difficulty seeing. I hope my words have helped. I don't write from ego, but from the heart, promise.

Much love, chart
:hug:

I appreciate your response, Chart. I do believe, though, that we are more than an imperative to reproduce. Though I do agree that survival in all its forms is built into our DNA. 

Science is the pursuit of how the world works. Science also rewrites itself ever so often, because what we think we know is often inexact or incorrect. 

Medical science is often wrong. Over the years I have been disappointed by the experts. 

Psychology has been the least accurate of all. There have been a lot of atrocity committed by psychiatrists experimenting on the vulnerable. 

What I'm saying is I don't trust, at face value, anything the scientific community says about the brain. It is more than a computer or machine. The brain is animated by the soul and we are more than just what neurons fire. 

I don't want to create a debate about science. I just wanted to express where I come from. 

As to what I wrote. I do believe that to some degree our will is involved in our recovery. It is not just a function of the brain. Both are needed. 

To change we have to want to change. I made a choice to seek help. I made a choice to use grounding techniques and do IFS work. 

What I meant by "being comfortable" is it is easier to sit in the familiar than to fight to correct a response. Change is difficult. So, my point which I didn't express well, is if I exercise my will to not seek help I am involved in perpetuating my own suffering. I was just thinking out loud. 

Please do not delete your response. I really appreciated you taking the time to compose it. I also appreciate the spirit in which it was written. 

L2N, I totally agree with all the precisions you made. Science is indeed in constant "refinement" and things are changing all the time, especially as we realize past ideas are just plain wrong. This is especially true in regards to psychology. And the brain remains, for all intents and purposes, a total and utter mystery. Science has yet to even begin to crack that one. I agree too we are far more than just the sum of our parts. Replication seems to be a means to an end perhaps even more mysterious than the brain.

And finally, yes absolutely, change requires decision and effort. But what scares me is just how easily this can transform into being too hard on ourselves. For me it's hard to know where to draw that line.

But it always helps me to discuss and verbalize. Thank you for letting me share in your journal.
:hug:

I have the tendency to be too hard on myself. Too much introspection is damaging. 

Thanks, Chart, for your comments. I always value your perspective. 

 :hug:

Quote from: Little2Nothing on June 24, 2024, 03:50:38 PMScience is the pursuit of how the world works. Science also rewrites itself ever so often, because what we think we know is often inexact or incorrect.

Medical science is often wrong. Over the years I have been disappointed by the experts.

Psychology has been the least accurate of all. There have been a lot of atrocity committed by psychiatrists experimenting on the vulnerable.

I feel this. Oh how it would be nice to trust in science, to fall on it like you're coming to a friend when in need. But alas, those that write theories and studies are humans themselves - with the same set of flaws that all humans possess. I may find a study that seems to validate my experiences, only to find the theories were taken from someone else, and the specialist who conducted the study abused their patients and lost their medical license long ago. Medical science is especially disappointing at times.

Quote from: Little2Nothing on June 24, 2024, 01:30:19 PMIs there a point in this journey where the pain you carry is because you can't let go? Is the idea of trauma valid or do I claim it as an excuse for my own personal weakness. Letting go sounds so simple. Just drop it like garbage in a bin. When you find something disgusting you dispose of it. If you hold on to it then whatever the consequences of holding on is all on you. Is that how this struggle eventually ends? You should have let go, but you didn't so - shame on you.

I deeply resonate with this. A fear that perhaps I myself am part of the problem. When we become so used to one particular way of living, a particular state of mind, it feels nearly impossible to think of an alternative frame to live by. I am reminded of a certain metaphor, of living in a cave for an extended period of time. We know there's an outside world but the sun hurts our eyes. Instead we find the darkness to be more comforting, even if it brings us a slew of misery. To that I wonder perhaps we would benefit from at least attempting to sit at the very entrance of the cave - not too much sun, but not too much darkness. A little bit of change, but not an overwhelming amount.

Wishing you well.
Regards,
Aphotic.

Aphotic, thanks for commenting. It is also nice to meet you.

QuoteTo that I wonder perhaps we would benefit from at least attempting to sit at the very entrance of the cave - not too much sun, but not too much darkness. A little bit of change, but not an overwhelming amount.

That really spoke to me. I fear we can become our own worst enemy. The reluctance to move from our cocoon could be the very thing that keeps us in darkness.

Agreed. We are afraid of the fear.

I often call this "wanting to be comfortably uncomfortable with the shame we've always known." Healing comes when we find ourselves able to hold on during the discomfort of stepping out of the shame we've always known.

My personal theory is that when I was very young, and my brain was in total learning mode, that my family and church taught me I wasn't good enough to be proud of myself. I learned that I was a shameful being, so I spent the next several decades building life processes around how to protect myself from the shame that I was told I am. So for me to stop believing I'm a shameful being, I have to agree to stop using ALL the self-protections that I've spent my life carefully building.

We entered our dark caves because we needed to in order to survive our childhoods. Leaving that cave means leaving every protective tool we've ever built to keep us from being humiliated and shamed by the world outside of the cave. So to step out of the cave, we need to be willing to live with a lot of fear that we're not prepared. We feel like soldiers marching into battle but not allowed to carry our weapons. We feel vulnerable and we instinctively want to grab for our tools that we've used to hide from the dangers of the world. We have to be willing to feel the anxiety of being unprotected by the only tools we've ever known how to use.

It's like how I taught my sons to ride bikes. They didn't believe they could do it without training wheels, so I had to do that thing where I took off the training wheels, held onto the bike for them, ran with them for a while but discretely let go without them realizing it. They thought they had me holding onto the seat. When they'd turn and see me standing alone in the street, they suddenly realized they could ride without training wheels. I'm that way with self-esteem. I'm just now starting to wonder if I have the skills to live outside of my cave without being shamed for it.

I'm willing now to step out a little here and a little there. So far, I've noticed that people still like being around me, even when I'm not protecting myself from them. I'm starting to emerge from the cave, letting myself feel a little uncomfortably uncomfortable, rather than comfortably uncomfortable.

It's painful sometimes learning about yourself in therapy. I realized how stubborn I can be when faced with obvious truths. There is a part of me that is stubborn and unreasonable, that pushes people away with the intent of hurting myself before they have a chance to hurt me.

Throughout my life I have longed for someone to genuinely care about me, but when someone did show they cared I would become angry and beligerent. I think I did this hoping they would respond with greater care and concern. The result of my attitude was to push them away. Whatever kindness they tried to show was cut short by my stubborness.

I am so afraid of rejection that I set myself up to be rejected. I hold people at arms length to protect myself from the pain I am about to inflict on myself.

I don't know if I am expressing this correctly or if it even makes sense.

I do know I want this to change. I don't want to be a fool and fail to be circumspect, but neither do I want to keep missing out on the blessing of connection with good people.

Little2Nothing, I feel your pain there. As you say, it is unfortunately all one big coping mechanism, to ensure our own safety and be guarded from any external threats. Though your awareness of these experiences is very commendable. After all, can't fix things unless we know what the problems are! I often yearn for that care too. I hope you can allow yourself to find something or someone, but of course take the time you need. These things don't really change overnight.

In the meantime though, plenty of folks here on the forum I'm sure are happy to connect with you.

Regards,
Aphotic.

Thanks, Aphotic. I know what I wrote was jumbled, I'm glad you were able to make sense out of it.  :)

Quote from: Little2Nothing on July 03, 2024, 08:56:08 PMThere is a part of me that is stubborn and unreasonable, that pushes people away with the intent of hurting myself before they have a chance to hurt me.

Oh yes, this resonates. I don't tend to get belligerent with them but I have a long history of setting impossible standards for others, especially romantic interests. "If he loves me then he will do/say xyz." I would make these standards even harder to achieve by not actually communicating them to the other person. And then when they failed to live up to the standards I would take this as evidence that they did not, in fact, love me and I should end my relationship at once. At my worst I did not even tell them I had ended the relationship. At the time I convinced myself that they cared for me so little that they would not even notice my absence. In reality I did not want to give them a chance to explain or repair the relationship because what I was actually doing was dumping them before they discovered my deficiencies and dumped me.

I was conceived to save my parents' relationship, literally. My mother became pregnant for this reason, then prayed for a son, thinking my father would never abandon his son as he himself had been abandoned by his father. She couldn't have been more incorrect.

Since, I have tried to "save" everyone around me. Doted with a near magical power to "know" what was wrong with those around me, I've always tried with Herculean force to repair everything that crosses my path. I throw nothing broken away, I keep it and try to repair it, passing into totally unreasonable situations. I do the same in my relationships. Often I "know" light-years ahead of most people what the source of their problem is. I try to tell people, but of course they rarely understand. Sometimes they become angry with me, rejecting me precipitously. Sometimes they understand and become dependent on me. Then I continue, waiting for my turn to be helped. But it rarely comes, or they don't understand what I'm asking for, or they simply cannot do for me what I need.

I collapse, usually by rejecting them from my life. I then am submerged by emptiness and regret. One way or another I have lost.

It seems all of our protection strategies are merely extensions of the dysfunction we experienced. It is a protection that serves no healthy purpose anymore, in reality, today, the world we are now trying to reclaim.

We must re-write EVERYTHING.

Tearing down our own walls is terrible. Uprooting our foundations..? perhaps it's akin to the pain of birth itself.

Chart and Nk, at the heart of it all I believe that I desrve to be hurt, that, like the child I was, I do not deserve to be loved. I think that explains my self-destructive behavior.

The love and care I long for could only have been given to me by my parents. No one else can ever meet that need. The longing, at times, is intense and brings with it deep loneliness, and the lonliness feeds the longing. It is a vicious cycle.

I want so desperately to connect with that broken part of me and help it be reconciled to the reality of today.

L2, I don't think you deserve to be hurt. But I also feel the EXACT same guilt, and feel the same for myself.

Could we not switch places for an instant? Or see ourselves through the eyes of the other? Somehow...

And for me, through all this, the eternal question: which way should I turn in this infernal labyrinth? Where is the exit?

I'm going outside for a walk. I will think of you and send you peace from deep inside me. In this way you will help me too. This will inspire me to give to myself what I can so freely and easily give to you.

Thank you, Chart. Much appreciated. 

L2N

Yeah. I know that feeling.

I hope you know that the belief that you deserve to be hurt is coming from the trauma that grips you. It's not real. In reality, I find you to be a kind person who doesn't deserve to hurt. But being that I'm a person with similar trauma disorders, I REALLY resonate with how trauma makes us feel like we deserve pain when in truth, we truly don't.

I read a quick article online yesterday called Betrayal Trauma--The Impact of Being Betrayed. Here's a link: https://www.verywellmind.com/betrayal-trauma-causes-symptoms-impact-and-coping-5270361#:~:text=Seek%20support%20or%20treatment%3A%20It,themselves%20when%20they%20are%20betrayed.

This article made me realize that having been betrayed by people we could not escape from, did the exact damage to our sense of self that you have described here.

You may feel unlovable, but I don't see you that way. I see you as an aware, compassionate man who is dealing with the residual damage done by people who you depended on, who betrayed the trust you placed in them. Good people trust others. You were a good person right from the start. It was the betrayal that confused you, as it did me.

I was going through old stuff and found a stack of letters from the orphanage. I had forgotten I had them. There were some that I had written to my mom and some from my mom to me. I am trying to get the courage to read some of them.

Just seeing them brought back a flood of memories.

Quote from: Little2Nothing on July 04, 2024, 01:30:39 PMThe love and care I long for could only have been given to me by my parents. No one else can ever meet that need. The longing, at times, is intense and brings with it deep loneliness, and the lonliness feeds the longing. It is a vicious cycle.

Hi L2N,

This something I have been coming to grips with lately and underneath it all, all the search for relationship and connection, inevitably falls short because they are not my family and don't live up to their standards ie somehow there is a voice in my head (their voice) that says, someone should be like this; they are going to hurt you because of x. I also think that it's because they are not my family, and to let them into my life means I have to let go of my family (or my idea of my family), and that's been the only thing that has helped me survive, or kept me safe as dysfunctional as it was. I'm also writing this and realizing that that's not true, I was there for myself and kept myself safe, but as my t has often said, humans are wired for connection. It is innate in us that we want and crave this attachment. However, there is fear there underneath it. What happens if I let go of that idea of my family? I'm still struggling with these feelings.

I don't know if it's for everyone, but his talk on fear is always illuminating for me to come back to. We become attached to the idea of who we think we are, and that is the painful thing to let go of. Though I don't necessarily think, at least in my case, that these ideas are "mine" and are passed down to a certain extent, they are still hard to let go of. As an infant, you really don't have anything else except that fear of annihilation and the unknown. I can grasp what he's saying that it's only our expereince of the unknown without love that is an issue on an intellectual level, but trying to communicate that to preverbal parts is quite different. This is something that's helped me along me along the way, so take and leave as needed as it's relevant for you: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Jn0g05e8QIs&list=PLaSy-g6A5sG3Jvh8Ru5k--D_0VUlZPpEw&index=18

Sending you support,
dolly

Papa Coco, thank you for the encouragement. I always appreciate your input and wisdom. If good can come out of trauma then in my case it is having the privilege of interacting with people like you. Thank you for sharing the article, it was very helpful.

Dollyvee, the worst part of trauma is how it eats at your soul. It strips you of joy or any sense of personal value. I think you are right that fear is at the heart of this struggle. One of the first things I told my T was that I was afraid I wouldn't know who I was without this deep inner pain. For me, it is a slow process, but I have hope that I will eventually get better.

L2N,

Wow. I remember feeling that same way: You said,

Quote from: Little2Nothing on July 05, 2024, 10:46:13 AMOne of the first things I told my T was that I was afraid I wouldn't know who I was without this deep inner pain. For me, it is a slow process, but I have hope that I will eventually get better.

Hold onto your hope that it will eventually get better. I am proof that it can get better, as long as we keep forging forward in our healing journey. (In AA we used to say, "the program works if we work it." And in this situation, I'm proof that relief comes if we work at it).

Up to this morning, I had forgotten that I had felt that exact same sentiment so strongly, and not that long ago. Maybe even one year ago today I was still living in the fear of letting go of my identity by letting go of my past. I used to say, "without my pain, who am I?" For decades, I held onto my fear of letting my little, broken hearted, inner child die by no longer feeling his pain with him.   

For me, what I'm beginning to realize is that by letting my sad inner child go, I'm not abandoning him, nor am I killing him, I'm letting him go into the light. His pain is ending because I'm letting him go. He isn't being betrayed by me, he's being allowed to move on himself. I never would have expected this to happen, but in hindsight, I think my abused inner child is in a much better place now that I've been able to stop hanging onto him.

It's taken a myriad of books, medications, and practitioners to get me past my fear of letting him go, but, somehow, today, I realize that at some point, without realizing it, I've been able to get past that connection to the pain. 

A few months back, I was telling my T how I was unable to let go of my remorse for everything I'd ever done that hurt anyone's feelings. He said to me, "It serves nobody to hang onto remorse. It doesn't serve you, it doesn't serve the person you feel you've hurt and it doesn't serve the world in any way." Somehow, by saying that to me on that day, he got through to me. Today, months later, when I start suffering from past memories, I say that to myself, "It's good to learn from my mistakes, and to remember my mistakes, but it serves nobody for me to wallow in suffrage over them."


If I have any encouragement for you today, it's this: Keep pursuing release from those feelings because the more we accept healing today, the more our past begins to fall away. I'm proof it can happen. L2N, you need to trust that I suffered very, very deeply in an inability to let go of my tortured past. If this release is available to me, it's available to anyone.

Big hug, my friend.
 :bighug:

Papa Coco

L2N,

I feel you.  That idea of "who am I without X".  Can be scary as allllll get out.  I know that for me, getting to where I could see events that happened to me isn't the "me" that went through those events helped a great deal.  Took me a long time to get there.  Each step I made towards that was like a cat on glass.  For me I run into the whole thing that my head "gets it" but my heart doesn't.   Something that I have done is to intentionally change the language that I use around things.

Instead of saying I'm divorced, which has negative connotations that slip past the conscious filter and which also implies ownership { I am } and bringing up the emotions related to the connotations which reinforce those lower vibrational emotions and place it into the present, I say I'm single. To me, stating that I'm single has a better "feel" to it that the other statement.  It can be challenging to catch our languaging and change it in situ.  However, us humans listen to ourselves and we end up programming ourselves into certain ways of being.  "The power of life or death resides in the tongue" I believe various sacred texts have stated in one way or another. This is part of why I think the gratitude practices are so powerful. We hear ourselves say I am grateful for _______, Thank you for ________, and after a certain amount of time, generally speaking, more things show up for us to be thankful for.  Even if there is a pool o crap that we are still working on ridding ourselves of.

For me taking a look at the labels I use on myself and changing those of a lower feel into ones that have a higher feel has helped me. I'm not 100% by any means. It's also not a one and done thing either.  Part of a holistic approach to dropping that which no longer serves.

Wishing you all the best   

I wanted to take a moment to address the past US election. 

I have no idea how anyone voted or if you voted at all. No matter who you voted for you still matter. I don't want to let politics be a catalyst that divides my fellow sojourners here. 

I understand the angst and sadness of loss. However, I would never want to say anything that would disparage someone else's choice. 

I spent my childhood enduring ridicule for who I am. I have been belittled, rejected, hated and ostracized. 

So I want to say if you voted for Kamala or Trump you, as a person, still have value. We are brothers and sisters trying to navigate the past. You matter to me. 

Quote from: Little2Nothing on November 08, 2024, 06:34:41 PMSo I want to say if you voted for Kamala or Trump you, as a person, still have value. We are brothers and sisters trying to navigate the past. You matter to me.

Thanks for the kind words, Little2Nothing. I hate how politics divides everyone. At the end of the day, we're all still humans just trying to survive in our own ways. Hope you're fairing okay, Little2Nothing.

Regards,
Aphotic.

That's a really nice thing to say, L2N. My Facebook feed is full of anger and things like "If you voted XYZ then get off my friends list now". Although I am in the UK and therefore not involved in this election we have had our fair share of divisive votes over here - especially the Brexit vote - and it is very unpleasant. Thank you for your post.

Every year around this time a deep abiding loneliness settles in. Thanksgiving is coming up next week followed closely by Christmas. These holidays hold no special meaning to me. It's nice to be with my wife, kids, and grandkids and I enjoy spending time with them. However, these holidays carry with them the taint of the past.

*Tigger warning*

I cannot remember a Thanksgiving or Christmas, growing up, that was enjoyable. Family gatherings then meant screaming, and physical abuse. They always started out okay, but a few drinks in and a darkness would set in. My mother would always bear the brunt of the abuse. Usually I would do or say or not say something that would be the catalyst of her beating.

One Christmas in particular my stepdad bought me a coat. I thanked him, but apparently I didn't thank him enough. He started out very menacingly calling me an ingrate, etc. The more he drank the darker his mood became. That particular night he and my mother were sitting at the dining room table. Out of the blue he punched her in the nose. He then proceeded to beat her unconscious, we ended that day of "the most wonderful time of the year" calling an ambulance to take her to the hospital.

That was typical for every holiday I remember. If there were happy times they elude me. I suppose our minds hold onto the most dangerous things to protect us in the future. 

My wife and kids love the holidays. I tried my best to not let my pain become their pain. Though I think some years I failed. I thought I would eventually get beyond the internal pain I carry during this time, but every year like clockwork the pending doom of the season of joy nearly cripples me. The oppression of these feelings made it difficult for me to enter into my children's joy as they grew up. With the grandkids I love to see them open their gifts and how excited they are. I suppose that is a victory. 

If people get an inkling that you aren't particularly a fan of Christmas. They call you Scrooge and I hear a lot of bah humbugs. They see you as odd or grouchy. Which does not help. I tried to explain why to someone once and I received a lecture on how I "need to get over it" or "quit living in the past." Maybe they are right, but it seems to me that the past is living in me and I don't know how to kill it.

Already depression is setting in. I have to try to hide so I don't make everyone else miserable. I find myself angrier this time of year. Little things nearly send me over the edge. So, this year, like every year before I will paste on a smile, try to act happy and bury the burden I carry. Only I will know what is raging inside me and that is the loneliest part of all. 

Hi Little2Nothing,
Sending you a hug of support at this time of year, as I can see the pain of your memories of this time,  :hug: I wish you didn't have to try to bury the burden you're carrying. 
Hope

Enforced jollity and togetherness is tough, I think, regardless of past experiences. I utterly loathe Christmas and we never had a particularly bad time such as you did. I just marched in lockstep and got through all the fakery. I'm glad you enjoy seeing your grandkids enjoy the holidays. I enjoy that too.

I am really sorry to hear that somebody once told you to "get over it". I mean, if we could, we surely would! Nobody wants to live like this.

It's hard to plaster on the smile and appear jolly through gritted teeth. It's a worthy endeavour, nonetheless, to try not to taint the enjoyment of loved ones. If you feel the need to rant and get it off your chest you're welcome to rant to me any time.

Hope, thanks for the support,  I truly appreciate it. 

NK, pretending happiness IS really hard. But in the end its worth it because I can spare others the turmoil of my past. 

Thanks both of you for caring. This forum has been a great blessing to me in many ways. It's because of the kindness you are expressing. Thanks again. 

Oh hon. I'm so sorry. Those are really tough memories to be carrying. And like it or not the brain IS a timekeeper and even without external cues like what comes with the holidays (so many triggers!)...even without those cues everywhere...the brain remembers the time of year even without our help. Of course the holidays are really hard. You are trying to be as cheerful as you can for your family. I'm sorry others don't understand. I feel like if you had lost a dear loved one on the holidays people would be understanding. I don't know why they can't see this the same way.

It makes so much sense why the holidays are hard. Hopefully with continued therapy the old memories will eventually be put mostly away and you can get more enjoyment from the new memories with your family. But there's no straight path there.  :grouphug:

It's such a horrid abuse what your stepfather did...in many ways worse than if he took his anger out on you. It's really extremely cruel and damaging. It is no wonder at all it is so hard to move past this. I think you are doing great, all considered.  :grouphug:

Thanks Armee. I wish the brain didn't do its job so well. It's hard to convey to others the devastating impact abuse has. Especially when it occurs over years.

You're right if I lost a loved one no one would question your sadness. I, and others, lost something just as precious foremost of which was the unconditional love of our caregivers.

L2N

If canceling holidays was something we could vote on I'd vote to cancel all of them. Year round. They are catch basins for trauma memories for far too many of us.

The more I get to know you, the more gentle and strong I see you as. Yes, you can be gentle and strong at the same time. The strength you show is in not passing your traumas onto your wife and kids. You did not carry forward your stepdad's abuse, nor do you refuse to participate in the Holidays. You care about your wife and children so much that, every year, you intentionally push through a jungle of traumas and memories so you can give to them what you should have been given. I'd have to look it up in the dictionary, but I would believe that what you do is most likely categorized as Heroic. You push yourself through something you don't want because you have others counting on you to give them a good holiday experience. That's heroic. You're saving your children and grandchildren from the pains of loneliness that you know would hurt them if they had to endure it too.

I have heard those words before also, "Why can't you just get past it?" My answer is now, "When I figure out how to do that, I'll let you know."

But that's why we are all here on this forum. Nobody on this forum would ever say that to anyone else on this forum.

We'd never say that to you--or to anyone else.

And when the Holidays are in full bloom here, just remember that the lion's share of us on the forum are feeling similar distress. Our family's weren't that loving on Christmas or Thanksgiving either. I remember the fights. My family didn't do violence, but they'd storm out of the house and drive off in a huff from time to time. As a child, That's not quite as traumatic as watching Mom get punched, but it's still enough distress to make the Holidays into a pariah on our calendars.

I vote we cancel them all.

HEY I have a trick that I use from time to time for when I need courage or at least endurance and I'm feeling alone with it. My T once gave me a small stone. He told me to put it in my hand whenever I felt abandoned. When the stone is in my hand, my brain remembers T gave it to me in a spirit of connection. While I'm holding that stone, I'm constantly aware that my T cares about me.

Sometimes, I suggest it on the forum here. Find some small thing. A trinket. A stone. A Rabbit's Foot. Any small item that you can tie to your wrist or carry in your pocket or hang on a chain around your neck. Think about how the people on this forum care about you. (And I'm here to tell you that people on this forum DO care about you. You're a particularly gentle soul, and it shows. I see it. I believe others can too).  Maybe hold that item in your palm every time you write to us on the forum, so that your brain and body start to connect that trinket with us all. Then, when you are forced into a Holiday party that you are regretting having to attend, just rub your thumb and forefinger across that trinket to help your brain and heart both remember that you are not alone in this distress. Your brothers and sisters on the forum are with you in spirit. Many of us will be suffering the same distress as you are.

I definitely do know the loneliness of the Holidays. Somehow, because they are billed as "The happiest time of the year", they highlight how Unhappy loneliness really is. I didn't always hate the Holidays, but as I age, my childhood traumas feel like they are more in my face than they were. So I have come to hate them.

I suffer with intense loneliness too. I know how painful it can be.

You're a heroic man, L2N. I'm not saying it as a compliment. I'm saying it as a truth. Water is wet. The sky is high. And L2N is an endearing and heroic patriarch of his household. Your family is lucky to have you. You put their needs first. You are a hero. That's what the word means to me.

Papa Coco

Little2Nothing,

I savvy. .

Me and holidays have a ... "rough" relationship. Lets say.

As a dad, you do for your kids.  Because that's what us dads do. 

Kudo's good sir. 

Wishing you all the best.

PC, thank you. I don't know how heroic I am, but I do appreciate the words of encouragement. I wonder if we could get holiday cancellation on the ballot. There might be more people than we know of who would vote to eliminate them.  :) 

I do believe folks who tell us to "get over it" or "stop living in the past" believe they are being helpful. Yet, I can't help but feeling the judgment of what they say. I feel belittled and dismissed. For them getting over things might be easy, but for those of us who endured years of neglect and abuse when we were the most vulnerable it is easy. 

Finding an object to help me ground myself is a really good idea. You are always and encourager and I really appreciate that.

StartingHealing, I made a decision years ago that I would not allow my kids to face what I faced. My wife and I moved far away from our families to minimize the damage they could do. Now my mother and stepdad are both gone. A few of my siblings are still alive, however, I have limited contact with them. 

I'm certain there are imperceptible things I passed on. There are aspects of trauma that always sneak through, but I can look back knowing that I did my best to give them a happy and healthy childhood. 

Little2Nothing,

That's all we can do is do our best at the time.  Breaking generational stuff is a humbucker  :aaauuugh:  Wishing you all the best

*Trigger Warning**

Yesterday my T and I really began processing with EMDR. I am not a skeptic, but I had wondered about the efficacy of the process. We started with a very primal emotional response I had when I was dropped off at the orphanage. It has always been something that I had avoided visiting in the past because it is the first real sense of trauma I have and the emotions it evoked were very profound. 

On more than one occasion prior to being placed in the home, my M would threaten us (brother and I) with an orphanage when we were misbehaving. So being taken to a home at age 6 instilled in me a sense that I had to have done something horrible to be taken there. I had no clue that that morning's trip would end at an orphanage. She unceremoniously dropped us off without any explanation.

What happened inside me is difficult to explain. I really don't have the words to describe it correctly. I know that my world ended that morning. I was lost, frightened, and begging for her to want me. I want to try to not over exaggerate what happened. Something died in me at that moment. I wept, begged and pleaded. I was totally alone and powerless. I was at the mercy of strangers. 

My T asked me a week prior if I had ever felt that way again. This was before we started processing. I recounted the time my stepbrother tightly bound my hands and feet, hung me out the attic window threatening to drop me. I was dehumanized with the same crying and pleading as before. He finally put me in the attic closet, pulled a pillowcase over my head and left me there for hours. I screamed for what seemed like hours, but no one every came. I thought I was going to die in the closet. My stepsister found me later in the evening and let me go.

 This morning in a rush of memory another incident seemed to meet the question she asked. I couldn't have been older that 10 or 11. As usual my parents were out closing the local bars. When they came home I heard unfamiliar voices. The usual screaming and physical violence didn't take place immediately. I must have fallen asleep. After a while there was a tapping on my bedroom door. I got up and opened it. There was a strange woman standing there. She was completely naked. Her chest and face were covered with blood. I remember her begging me to help her. I froze. A man came out of my parents room grabbed her, made a threatening remark to me and dragged her back to the room.

I lay in bed and listened as he beat her and I'm certain raped her. Her sobs and pleading were reflections of the utter abandonment, fear, terror and lostness I had felt at 6. I hid under the covers of my bed fearful of what might happen next. To this day I can't help but believe I failed that poor woman. I had felt what she felt. I knew her terror. I'm certain she didn't know if she was going to live or die, just as I felt when my stepbrother did what he did to me. 

To this day when I hear of situations where people have been robbed of their humanity and forced to beg for mercy it causes me visceral pain. The terror I felt comes back with a vengeance and I want to shut down. I never want to feel that again and I wish others would never have to experience it either.  

I wish I didn't remember these things, but wishing is futile. I can only, I suppose, process it and learn to see it in a different light. What that might be I don't know. 

L2N I weep for little you. All those stories are utterly heartbreaking.

You did not fail the woman. You were a child with no power in that situation. Had you had time to do anything (and I suspect you might have tried to help in some way if the man had not come out to grab her at that moment) things could have been worse for her and most certainly would have been bad for you. The way things played out of course still feel bad to you now, as a fully grown adult, but back then little L2N was kept as safe as possible in a dreadful situation. I am glad you did not have time to do anything rash.

 :hug:

These are all incredibly difficult deeply traumatizing experiences. That you survived and are relatively healthy is not a small miracle but an outrageous miracle. That you are willing to start processing is remarkable.

What I've found over time with emdr is it isn't really about thinking something different about the memoriee, they just kind of get resolved and put in the past instead of the present. You can still remember them but you don't relive them quite as often. It'd be like me reading these stories...it's terrible and heartbreaking and I feel stuff in the pit of my stomach reading about what happened to you, but I personally am not reliving it. I am witnessing it as a removed third person viewpoint. That's what I've found emdr can do for my own memories. It isn't perfect. I still get flashback type experiences but it isn't all the time anymore.

Thanks NK. I think you're right anything I could have done would have ended in disaster. 

Armee if I can get to the point you described I would be grateful. It is refeeling the terror and panic that is the worst. Also, the attendant guilt and shame. 

The last two days have been difficult. Memory, especially emotional memory, can be cruel. You would think after 60 years that the pain associated with memories would begin to dissipate. Time heals nothing it seems. Now that I am older the things of the past seem more acute. Maybe it is because you are more aware of what you lost.

The things I recently recounted are refusing to let go. How do you shut off the replay? It seems impossible at times. I find myself feeling more lonely, sad and angry over the past few days. The dark pit of loneliness is the worst. I'm glad I can vent here, but that doesn't fill that void. At this pint I not sure anything really could. The aloneness is attached to something long gone. There is no going back to meet the need, so it remains unfulfilled.

The people responsible for my struggle are all long gone. There is no confronting them. No amends to be made. It is a black void that I must wrestle with and overcome. 

I see my T once a week and other than that time I have no other way to verbalize what I am feeling. I openly admit that I am weak and vulnerable. The struggle is mine alone. I fear I am searching for something I will never find, a fool looking for the Holy Grail of closure. I apologize for my random thoughts and negativity. Hopefully all of this will go away soon. 

Little2Nothing,

If ok with you, sending good vibes. 

Wishing you and yours, all the best

SH, it's okay and appreciated. 

 :hug:

When this happens to me I feel like I have fallen into a flashback tunnel. There are lots of paths in (triggers) but once you get there you don't (yet) have paths out and can't retrieve yourself because we put these walls around the trauma bits in our brains. That's how it feels to me. Like getting stuck with no path out. I have a second T I see...she's a music T but also does a lot of somatic type work. We were working on that yesterday because I fell in the tunnel this week too.

First she worked on grounding me and getting me to a place where there are good feelings. For me that's reminding me of how I feel around my kids which is happy and powerful  (meaning I would protect them with all my might).

From there she had me just tiptoe up to the edge of the tunnel then she verbalized for me the thoughts I could make for myself...no. I'm not going in there. No this is not good for me. No I don't need to go in there. Stop. Etc. It did work in that moment where I was teetering on the edge of feeling bad things but didn't get consumed. I don't know if it will work when I am alone and when the trigger happens too fast to catch it. But I've noticed that triggering has slowed down where I have more time now where I could wedge a foot in the closing door and do something different. I often don't, because I feel like I "should" be able to handle whatever triggering situation I am in. But there is more space now for me to be able to slow the snowball roll.

So I don't know if that will be feasible for you yet, I don't know if it is feasible for me but I'm sharing in case it helps today or later. I also thought about well is that like ignoring our exiles and leaving them in their trauma but I don't think so. If we can stay at the edge instead of falling in that's the only way we can witness, otherwise we reexperience and become blended and we can't save our exiles that way.

Other than that I am really sorry that you went through all these horrible  :grouphug: experiences and now have to relive them all the time. It's really difficult. I think you are doing so well considering everything. Truly I do. It's always going to be there but I do believe it will get less intense and you'll have more peace over time. 

L2N, It is said that the underworld has nine levels. It seems you were dragged down to some of the deepest. That you have regained the surface with your heart and soul intact is a testament to your deep strength and determination. I do not believe you are weak. But I understand your feeling of weakness. The adult sees and feels still the emotions of the child, yet judges themselves as though they were an adult. It cannot be. The child that wasn't permitted to "be" a child, simply lives on. It seems you have come face to face with that child and now more than ever you know how much he deserves something else than what he got. It is indeed too late for justice for the perpetrators, that route is utterly useless and leads to emptiness. But there's another path possible. It runs in all metaphorical terms the exact opposite to "vengeance": What does your wounded child-self need and deserve? And how can you provide it? Is such a thing even possible?

You say "The struggle is mine alone." Forgive me if I contradict you. Maybe the work of healing is yours... and yet... Maybe you are struggling more terribly than you've ever struggled... indeed... But are you truly alone?

Your story fills me with inspiration... and this motivates me. You have done something for me with your writing AND your work. Please know that you are NOT alone. You have touched me and I feel you. My experiences are not the same as yours, but I know that of which you speak. Please, of all the things you are struggling with, don't think that you are alone. I feel confident speaking for everyone here, the way is terribly hard, but we are not alone.

Armee, thank you for the encouragement. The process you went through sounds logical and helpful. At this point looking at those things even on the periphery is difficult, but I hope to get there. I know I have to face these things and learn to see them as a past event that isn't happening anymore. 

Chart, I deeply appreciate your response. I am grateful to be on this forum and to have conversed with folks such as yourself and all the others. Thanks for reminding me that here I am not alone. 

I want to add to everyone who has encouraged me in this process that your collective wisdom has been invaluable to me on my journey. Everyone has been so supportive and kind. So thank you guys for being here and caring. It means a lot to me.

I contacted a local mental health group this past week to find out about ketamine infusions. Of course insurance doesn't cover it and would cost around 1k per session. So that is out. 

They told me about Spravato which esketamine. Apparently in the ketamine family. Instead of infusions it is administered via nasal spray. They told me it was very effective. 

Has anyone tried Spravato? 

**Trigger Warning**
I cannot remember a holiday as a child that didn't involve violence and blood. All my significant memories have fear, dread and sadness linked to them. Although, I am certain there must have been times when this wasn't the case, but none ever come to mind. The violence is what I remember. Faces twisted in anger, hurtful words and disregard for the personhood of others.

This week I talked to my T and told her I cannot remember any of my siblings being present. No shared smiles, No anticipation of something good. Throughout those years I can only remember snippets of events. My brother with me in the orphanage, for instance, I have two distinct memories of those 3 to 4 years. The same for the others as well. 

I have (had) two brothers I had never met. One died at six months in a state institution. The other died 3 years ago. I have a sister that I met for the first time about 15 years ago. Up until then she hadn't wanted to meet me. I don't blame her, she had been through so much. She and the brother were in an orphanage only 10 miles from where I was placed. 

Then my step brothers and sister numbered six. There were 13 of us in all. Three of my brother's I had never spend a holiday with. The rest that I am certain were to some holidays I just can't remember them there. 

I was sitting here today thinking about all the lonely folk out there who have no one to gather with. Today, I am fortunate. I have my wife and kids, and grandkids to spend time with, to laugh with and feel my heart warmed watching them interact with respect and genuine care.

I am thankful for the intact families that I know, where the father and mother are present. They care for their family and watch over their children with protective love. There are good, decent and loving parents in the world. I'm glad their kids will never know what it means to be neglected, beaten, abused or treated as if their have no worth.

I was not so fortunate. Growing up was hard. I saw, heard and experienced things no child should ever know. I cannot change it. I cannot forget it. Sadly, it haunts me relentlessly and I feel the scorn, blame and shame of it to this day. 

I hope all on here have a very good day. I hope your day is filled with love and compassion.  

Not even an adult should have to have experienced the things you did as a child. They were tremendously difficult.  I'm so glad you have your beautiful family now too and I hope you are so proud of what you created out of whole cloth and against all odds. Hopefully one day all the positive we have around us will start to really sink in and dampen the negative memories.  :grouphug:

Thanks Armee, I am on my way to healing. Sometimes the journey to heal seems as hard as the journey to need healing. I have a loving family now and am close to all my kids. 

I agree with that.

Thank you for sharing, Little2Nothing. I resonate a lot with what you mentioned. Growing up shouldn't be hard, it should be a nurtured and guided experience, rather than just trying to survive. I'm sorry you went through all that.

Regards,
Aphotic.

**TRIGGER WARNING**

I have been sharing portions of my past because it is helpful to verbalize them. I have held these things in for so long that it has affected my physical as well as mental and emotional well being.

One of the worst betrayals in my life was the sexual abuse I endured. The first time it happened I was 5 or 6. A neighbor kid who was a teenager abused me for about a year. At some point I told my M and her reaction was anger, not at him, but at me for telling tales. I received a whipping and was told not to lie.

The second time was at the orphanage. My house mother did very inappropriate things to a lot of the boys in my cottage. I was at the home for several years.

When I was around 9 or 10 my mother began taking me to a man who, I believe, she was having an affair with. She took me there and left me with him many times over an extended period of time. My mind is fuzzy on the exact time frame, During this period I also had an older brother who abused me as well. 

When I was close to 12 my M and SF took me to Indiana where she negotiated, for money, to have me go live with a man who was from Kentucky. She told me I would be happy there and I would be leaving with him. I snuck out and hitchhiked home which was in a neighboring state.

It wasn't long after that that I left home permanently. I was 13.

During that time I became a drunk, a thief, and was very violent. I did a lot of things for which I am ashamed.  

After I left home I lived on the street until I was 16. I was able to get a job and rent a room in a boarding house. It would be several years before I reconnected to my M.

I cannot fathom what went through the mind of my M, nor can I understand how a parent could love their child so little as to deliberately put them in danger. I cannot remember ever feeling connected anywhere. I was , so to speak, on my own. The things mentioned above coupled with other things I endured robbed me of a sense of safety and I found it, and still find it, hard to trust anyone. I hated and blamed myself for much of what happened. To this day I still struggle to find value in myself. 

I know that much of what I did was for survival and I know rationally none of it was my fault. But somewhere deep inside of me there is an image that is twisted, broken and crippled. It is the person created by the circumstance. He refuses to die. His voice is louder than my rational mind. He seems to always win the day. I can only subdue him for a short while and that battle is exhausting.

I still hold on to hope that in time it will get better. Actually, after several years of therapy I can see some improvement. I don't want to end this with doom and gloom. I still hope because I must, without it I would give up.

Hi L2N. You're so couragous writing all of this here. It certainly is a lot of wrong things that happened to you as a kid. Very wrong. I don't know how people can be so horrificly cruel.
I'm with you on not being able to believe how a mother could put her kid in such a situation. I cannot get my head around it.

This is very hard to read, I can relate because of similar experiences:

Quote from: Little2Nothing on December 16, 2024, 03:48:41 PMAt some point I told my M and her reaction was anger, not at him, but at me for telling tales.

Quote from: Little2Nothing on December 16, 2024, 03:48:41 PMDuring that time I became a drunk, a thief, and was very violent. I did a lot of things for which I am ashamed.  

I know how shame works so that's how you feel. I also did many things I'm very ashamed of. But shame should run over to the other side, like Gisele Pelicot said and she's right I think. We are not the ones that should be ashamed. Yes, we did some stupid stuff, but we're not bad, we are people who need and deserve to be loved like anybody else.

And despite the strength of your inner critic, I do believe there is also a little boy in there who just wanted/wants to be loved and who is by nature a good boy. You writing all of this here, is what proves to me he's in there. I'm sending hugs for the little boy, if that's all right, and maybe at some point, with enough encouragement/courage he can be coaxed out and he will know that we love him.

And you're writing this here also shows me you are processing, and as a result I do believe things will indeed get a little bit better for you.

I'm sending you lots of good wishes, I feel for you so much.

(I hope my words are not too much, please disregard them if they are. I'm feeling quite emotional myself.)

What follows are my immediate thoughts relating to the quoted part of your post. If you would rather not read anything concerning that then please skip the rest of this post and forgive my overstep.

Quote from: Little2Nothing on December 16, 2024, 03:48:41 PMBut somewhere deep inside of me there is an image that is twisted, broken and crippled. It is the person created by the circumstance. He refuses to die. His voice is louder than my rational mind. He seems to always win the day. I can only subdue him for a short while and that battle is exhausting.

I am glad you are feeling able to share some of your pain. It is a brave thing to do. I'm also very glad that you can see some improvement from the therapy. Your whole post - your need to share here and your reference to the broken person you cannot subdue - makes me wonder whether the broken person needs a voice. It is scary to allow parts of ourselves out even to ourselves, let alone "in public", as it were, but it seems to me that sometimes they cannot rest until they have had their say and been heard. If that is the case with your person then it is good that you are finding a way to air some of his feelings but managing them so they don't completely overwhelm you. Of course I don't know how much overwhelm you are having to deal with simply by referencing the person - but it feels like you are coping. I hope you are.

 :bighug:

It's for you, for the little boy who was so badly abused, and the twisted part of you that did what he had to to survive.  :bighug:

Thanks everyone. 

I appreciate everyone's response.
 Narckiddo, you did not overstep any boundaries. I'm grateful for your input. 

Thanks for your encouragement DesertFlower. 

Armee, thanks for the hugs. 

Quote from: Little2Nothing on December 16, 2024, 03:48:41 PMI know that much of what I did was for survival and I know rationally none of it was my fault. But somewhere deep inside of me there is an image that is twisted, broken and crippled. It is the person created by the circumstance. He refuses to die. His voice is louder than my rational mind. He seems to always win the day. I can only subdue him for a short while and that battle is exhausting.

Like NarcKiddo I deeply identified with this... For me it's a horrible "voice" that blathers incessantly in my head telling me I'm no good, I'm no good, I'm horrible, I am wrong, everything horrible is because of me. This voice is truly thunderous and drowns out all sense from my rational mind. I wake to it every morning and can only phase it out with certain actions, many of which are dissociative (and thus I'm trying to avoid). Facing this voice is the hardest thing I have ever done. I hear what you are describing L2N, I feel it deeply. Thank you for sharing.
 :hug:

It has been a while since I posted on here. Though I do read what others have written and empathize with the struggles of many. I also rejoice in the victories others have experienced. 

The following is a discussion about religion, so I will add a *TRIGGER WARNING* here. 

Up until I was 19 years of age I wallowed in the darkness created for me by others. Though I added to that darkness by my own poor choices. I was a broken young man with no hope and no future. I kept myself inebriated as often as possible and surrendered to my violent impulses constantly. There were times of restraint, but only when restraint best suited my needs. It wasn't out of conscience but our of a sense of survival. 

At the age of 19 I came in contact with a family who showed me great compassion. They were kind and patient. Seemed unfazed by my outbursts of anger and less than exemplary lifestyle. The mother knew I didn't have a home and would feed me and offered me their basement to live in. The basement was better than the street so I accepted. They treated me with respect, something I was not used to experiencing. 

This was a Christian family. They would invite me to join in their family prayer sessions. The first time I ever heard my name mentioned to God in prayer was in their home. Eventually I went to church with them and became a Christian.

I know many have had horribly negative experiences with religion. This is not an attempt to deny that experience or minimize it, i just wanted to share an important milestone in my life. 

The discipling and structure that the Church offered was something that was lacking in my life. I had no discipline nor did I have any structured path for living my life. From my church experience I learned the value of prayer. I learned to have compassion on others who had suffered great loss and pain. I learned that all people deserved to be respected and loved.

That all sounds utopian, but it wasn't. The struggle inside me was still alive. Though I had a new perspective on life I still had to deal with the demons of my past. At first things improved for me, but over time the abuse of the past took its toll. 

Sadly, at that time, the Church didn't believe in therapy and looked down on the use of it. The church also failed at understanding the impact of years of abuse on a person's life. In the spiritual realm they offered consolation and hope. In the brokenness of one's life the application of the spiritual was missing. It was a prevalent thought that one's connection to God would cure everything and nullify every vestige of the past. I found it didn't work that way.

In my inward struggle I was left to fend for myself. Such advice as, "Quit living in the past" or "You're not trusting God" only increased the weight of self-loathing and guilt. I found great comfort in reading the scripture and exercising myself in prayer, but little comfort from those who were in the rank and file of the church. 

Because of the callousness of people in the church many have cast off faith altogether, I understand this. If it hadn't been for the consolation I received when I moved from atheism to Christianity I would have been discouraged as well. I wasn't raised in a religious home so I wasn't taught to reject it through the hypocritical example of a dysfunctional family. 

There is no inconsistency, in my mind between joy in faith and the psychological struggles of CPTSD. There are many times that CPTSD overshadows faith and renders it inert. Though I take comfort in the stories of Elijah, Job, Jeremiah and even Jesus himself who each suffered under the burdens of life. I have read and reread the struggle of Jesus in the garden. The weight of fear and anxiety brought him to sweat blood. His humanity was not subsumed in His divinity.

So, I continue to wrestle with despair, aloneness, self-doubt and self-loathing. Nightmares, flashbacks and dissociation are a part of this struggle. I believe we are all spiritual beings. Bodies with souls. It is our humanity that amplifies our suffering. The weakness and imperfection of our understanding, magnified by the abuse, meanness and sometimes brutality by others as broken as we, they makes life hard.

I will continue to pray and read the Bible. I will continue to attend worship and fellowship with others who share common beliefs. I will also continue to hope for and end this painful existence. And for now I will struggle on trying to make sense of the unthinkable. Struggling to lose this weight that presses me down. Weeping in the night over the loss of love and tenderness I should have enjoyed as a child, feeling detached from the happiness and laughter of others.

If you made it this far thanks for taking the time to read. 

Thank you for sharing, L2N. I am glad you have been able to find some comfort and direction from religion. The family who introduced you sound like true and good Christians, doing their best to live a good life. My late FIL was also one such. He was terribly misguided in some ways, I think, but he did genuinely try to be a good man, and I respect that. He is the only person I have so far come across who was genuinely prepared and willing to meet his maker when he fell terminally ill. My own family experience is steeped in hypocrisy and I steer clear of religion myself.

They were really good people. I am fortunate to have met them. 

L2N

Your post is very well written. Thank you for sharing from the heart as you've done.

Thanks PC. 

I seriously believe that the impact of trauma is a conundrum to those seeking to help trauma survivors. This might be the reason why there are so many different therapies and approaches to the issue. I have come to believe that there is no "cure" for childhood trauma. There is only mitigation. The severity of the mental, emotional and moral injury can only be suppressed and minimized. Obviously, the memories never die. Though we may be able to learn to react with less severity the battle for inward peace is never ending. 

I have been in therapy on and off for the last 10 years. Much of the therapy has been unhelpful. My recent therapist has done the most to help guide me through this wilderness. I have learned many techniques to try to calm myself and pull myself out of dissociation, etc. Though those things give some respite the underlying cause is still present. The trauma always seems to captivate my mind. 

This is not meant to be a reflection on those who have dedicated their lives to helping trauma victims. It is only a recognition of the frailty of human understanding. The damage done to me is hidden. It is a not visible to the eye. The part of me that was broken by my tormentors cannot be set like a broken arm. No medicine can blunt the pain, no surgery can correct the damage. It is a purely subjective battle. The therapist only knows what I tell her or what she observes of my body language, words and attitude. The heart of my problem is an enigma to her as much as it is to me. In most instances I haven't the words to remotely describe what I'm feeling of needing. She has to work off of conjecture. It is obviously a flawed and inexact process.

This doesn't mean I have no hope. Although, hope is a commodity that is hard to come by. If I lose hope then I am lost. When I first started therapy I had hoped that I would get better, that the pain would be gone forever. I'm not sure that will ever happen. I am looking for something more practical, I believe. I am looking for the ability to recognize the pain and channel it into something better. I want the suffering of my childhood to make me an empathetic and caring person. I want to let the pain remind me of how blessed I am to be alive and enjoy my wife, children and grandchildren. I want it to remind me that my children have been spared the same fate. If I can achieve this then I will feel victorious. I'm not there yet, but I am moving in that direction.

L2N

I couldn't agree more with everything you wrote here today. There is barrage of techniques emerging, and most of them only provide temporary relief.

I see you as a person with a deep and open heart. I can sort of feel your search for connection, which gives me a sense of closeness with your writing. Your heart is open. That is so obvious to me. I see you as an innocent soul with a wide-open heart just simply asking for connection with other souls, and I can't help but find that beautiful.

After trying to get help from 7 different therapists over 45 years and finally finding the one who doesn't rely on strategies and techniques, but who prepares himself before each client, and connects, heart-to-heart with each of us as we enter into our hour with him, I'm able to see that I'm finally, actually moving toward healing from my traumas. I'm not "healed," and may never be completely healed, but I'm so much more stable and in control, even during EFs, today than I was even just a few months ago, and certainly more so than a year ago. My pain was in how lonely I always felt, even when with loved ones. I don't feel lonely anymore. I feel like people really can see me now. I have to credit my therapist for this by his showing me what it feels like to be respected and seen, at the heart level, not just the intellect and emotions. When I'm in his office, I feel like he truly wants me to be there. He's more like a friend first who just happens to also be a highly skilled therapist, and it takes BOTH of those angles to reach into me and help fill the loneliness.

7 previous therapists, even the kind ones, were not really connected with me. Some were kind and polite, but nobody really made me feel like I was as important as they were. I was the patient, and they were across the room as the doctor. No matter what they helped me with, the benefits were temporary. Within a year of them "curing me" with their book-learned tricks and techniques, all my problems returned, but just a little more serious than when they'd left. I'd connected only intellectually with them. The problem is that my intellect is already fine. It's my heart that is reaching out to the crowded world in search of connection. So, any therapist who wants to help a trauma survivor, has to connect with the heart. The heart is the opening to our damage. When my current therapist connects with me and guides me into a feeling of being important to him, I start to find my way out of the emotional and heady chaos that has defined me for 6 decades.

What he does was taught to him by someone somewhere, and I believe he now teaches a bit of it to other therapists as well.

After a deep search on Amazon, I just took delivery of a book called Relational and Body-Centered Practices for Healing Trauma, 2nd edition, by Dr. Sharon Stanley, PhD. I've never heard of her, but the book looked like it spoke to what I find to work, and lucky for me, the second edition came out just last week, so I've gotten her most updated information. In the rapidly evolving landscape of trauma, and Trauma Informed Care (TIC), her book, released a week ago, is about as up-to-date as it could possibly be. (As the old TV commercials used to say "The only fish that's fresher is still swimming in the sea"). TIC is evolving quickly, so the fresher the information, the better.

I just finished the long introduction and will start chapter one tonight or tomorrow. I can't believe how lucky I am to have stumbled onto her work. The book appears to be written more to teach therapists how to put down their textbook tricks and gimmicks, and truly connect, empathetically, with their clients. I can't be certain, but I think my therapist might have learned what he does from the same people she learned it from. I'm going to show him the book and ask him that next week when I see him again. so far, everything she's saying about a therapist being more of an empathetic person than an intellectual doctor is tracking exactly with my experience with my therapist. I will be surprised if he says he hasn't at least heard of her books.

The thing he's been giving me with his approach is a feeling that I'm as welcome in the game as everyone else is.

I've long believed that the most insidious cause of my CPTSD was the crushing loneliness from feeling unprotected, unwanted and unwelcome on the earth right from birth. My need to be connected with the people around me was treated like a joke, and I have always felt like I've been standing on the side of the road with my arms open just hoping someone would finally love me.

I think that what's helping me to feel less in my head, and more in my heart, and connected with others is that my current therapist cares more about me being a person than me being a patient.

I've told him that I worry he'll retire. His response is, "Why would I retire when I love what I do so much?"

I just had a thought: As a boy I had two favorite celebrity heroes. Victor Borge and Red Skelton. As a small boy of only about 6 or 7 years of age, I would watch them on TV and listen to their jokes, and I could just tell that they truly loved their audiences. Borge, especially, was extremely talented as both a pianist and a comedian. But what made me want to go into comedy myself was his and Skelton's obvious love for the people who came to enjoy an hour with them. I think that might be what I see in my therapist's demeanor. He loves his patients the way Borge and Skelton appeared to love their audiences. And I really, really respond to people who can squeeze in through my loneliness and who will open their hearts to share an hour with me.

I think, next session, I'm going to tell my therapist how he makes me feel the way Borge and Skelton did. If I were younger, and just a little more stable, my therapist might have motivated me to become one myself. It's a little late for me to go to college for that, AND I'm still not certain I could do the job. I still have a few too many ghosts walking the halls of my haunted brain.

On my public email, my signature block reads, "The shortest distance between two people is a smile" --Victor Borge, 1909-2000. L2N, if you could see my face right now, you'd see that smile. You're not actually alone. You may feel alone, but that's just trauma playing its tricks on you.

PC.

PC,

Connection is something I long for more than anything else. I am discovering that the problem I have with connecting to others is not because of others it is because of me. Like you, my inability to connect, even when I am with people that I know love me, produces an excruciating loneliness. I don't believe that I have the capacity to actually know what healthy connection is. 

I believe the deep emptiness I feel is directly connected to the loss of connection as a child. I was denied that connection when my basic needs should have been met through touch, embrace, and tenderness. When I hurt I was not comforted. When I'd cry I would receive punishment. There were no cooing words, no wiping away of tears and no gentle kisses to mollify my fears and sorrow. I think that loss of connection is the poisoned well from which my other troubles have sprung. The moment to meet that ingrained need is past forever.

I have been told that need can be met by me. That I can comfort and nurture that part of me that languishes in isolation. This seems foreign to me. The need is predicated on a primal desire that was denied. It cries out for maternal connection. I, who have no real ability to connect, would be a poor substitute for whatever past needs had been neglected. 

Out of this loss has grown a self protective layer. It is a force field that has organically grown around me. Inside of me the thought of being hurt and rejected again is frightening. I never learned what real loving connection actually consists of. How do you open up completely when a vital part of you has been violently crippled? I'm not certain I will ever find the answer.

The part of me that is wrapped in darkness is forever stunted. It cannot be healed. At least I don't believe it can at the moment. Maybe at some future time I will see things differently. The only thing that could heal the broken child inside of me is a mother's love. I shall never have that. No one can be a surrogate for that, not even me. 

There are days when the emptiness and aloneness I feel is so strong that I feel lost. It is oppressive, a tyrant that crushes my soul. I know that sounds dramatic, but I don't know how else to describe it. It is a merciless enemy that will not allow me to rest or find comfort. Some days are far worse than others. Yet, this thing is my constant companion. 

The EMDR is helpful, although I haven't had consistent weekly session because of my dysregulation. The emotions are difficult to deal with. My T has been a blessing to me. She doesn't push nor does she ever appear impatient. I have to say that I have grown to trust her and look forward to our session. 

Maybe once the EMDR has been fully explored and I have learned to regulate myself better I will sing a different tune. CPTSD is a horrible thing. 

L2N

You are very articulate. The way you describe what you go through is clear and easy to connect with.

I understand what you're saying. I'm grateful that you know that people really do love you, and that people (like me) really can see you and can feel your need for connection. I am also glad that you are aware that the problem is internal, and by how you describe it, I would agree that you seem to have a strong understanding of where it came from and why it haunts you. 

I have been trying to define what "cured" means in own life, and your posts are sort of helping me to find the answer. Today I realize that I don't need to feel like life has no problems. I don't need an easy life, and I don't even need to never feel threatened again. What I NEED is to gain the ability to feel the love that comes my way. I think that's what I'm learning here right now, thanks in large part to your posts on the subject.

Ever since you joined the forum, I think my loneliness has sensed the similarity with yours. Birds of a feather recognize each other in a crowd, I guess.

I assume you talk with your therapist about this. In my case, I wasn't aware of myself enough to know why I felt generically "bad" when I started therapy. It wasn't until one session about 5 years ago, when I told my therapist how I was feeling, and he said, "That sounds so lonely." It hit me like a flash of light. I'd never considered that the hollowness and inability to connect with the people I loved was called "loneliness" but that is exactly what it is. Once I identified my generic unhappiness as loneliness, I started working with my therapist to tackle it, and we are starting to make some progress. Finally.

I'm starting to feel a tad bit better at allowing myself to accept people's love. I have a long way to go, but for now, I just like sharing with you that loneliness and difficulty in accepting love are my own personal struggles also. And some days are better than others.

It seems we both know that we're loved and lovable, but we struggle to feel it. So, that's our shared challenge: to feel the love we haven't yet developed the skills to accept.

We both may feel lonely, but we are doing it in the same lifeboat together.

Quote from: Little2Nothing on March 28, 2025, 11:05:50 AMI have been told that need can be met by me. That I can comfort and nurture that part of me that languishes in isolation. This seems foreign to me. The need is predicated on a primal desire that was denied. It cries out for maternal connection. I, who have no real ability to connect, would be a poor substitute for whatever past needs had been neglected. 

This resonates, and happens to be something I have been touching on with my therapist in recent sessions.

She often says that I can be a mother to my inner child, and that being so is the safest way to nurture myself. Even the most loving and reliable people in the world have their faults and when we have no experience of what "good enough" looks like it is easy to fall into the trap of thinking that a mistake by another makes them dangerous or is proof that we are unlovable.

I come at it from a slightly different direction to you because for me "mother" is a loaded and dangerous word. I hear others here express the wish for a mother, or say that they cry out for a mythical mother figure who could love them. I have no desire to cry out "mother" for fear a mother may appear!

However, I have been having some connection with my inner child recently. It felt very weird at first and initially even just recognising that something was coming from the inner child was hard to acknowledge, let alone respond to. If I actively try to "be a mother" my inner child does not want to know. But if I respond to her as adult me might to an actual child, or anyone vulnerable or dependent such as a dog, I get on better. I can recognise when a desire is coming from the inner child and am starting to be able to respond in a caring way. Sometimes I feel able to indulge the child even if adult me would rather not do whatever it is, but sometimes I feel able to explain nicely to the inner child that we cannot do xyz but maybe we can do it later, or something else. For sure it feels weird to be negotiating with myself as if there was a separate child present but it has actually been very helpful for me in recent months.

I totally understand what you are saying, and why, but you know how to nurture others. You know how to love them. Of course it won't be perfect because you are human. But I firmly believe that you can nurture yourself. No, you cannot be a mother - but not having that title does not mean you cannot provide comfort to little L2N.

PC, 

As always thanks for your reply. Sorry I hadn't responded earlier.

We are comrades in sorrow. There is much that we have in common. I suppose trauma infects us all in similar ways. The aloneness that I endure, at times, is much more that just feeling sadness. It is a visceral pain that gnaws at my heart and soul. It is a deeply held sense that I am cut off from everything around me. Gratefully, it is not a constant impression, there are times of respite. When it comes, however, it is a crushing weight. My whole sense of being is thrown into turmoil. There is nothing that can assuage it.

Sometimes it can linger for hours. As I'm sure you know it is an agony that is unrelenting. The tools I've learned for grounding seem to have little affect. Though this thing is an impression from the past it dominates the present. I am hopeful that EMDR will help in lessoning the impact. 

Thanks for your kind words. I felt a kinship with you the first moment we interacted. I deeply appreciate your insight and wisdom. I'm glad we are friends.


NK,

Thanks for your response. The inner child concept has been a very hard thing for me to process. I am not closed to the possibility that it will benefit me eventually, though. I think I will have to give it time. Right now it just seems untenable to me. Maybe the real reason is that that child is broken and deformed and I'm not ready to really look at him yet. 

It is foolish to believe that life can be easy, but it really is distressing when multiple things come crashing down all at once. I do not handle stress very well, especially now that I am an old man. It seems to be harder to navigate with each passing year.

At 69 I am beyond the apex of time. When I was young I was able to ignore my past, well I didn't really ignore it, it was more like burying it. I could fill my mind and time with other things. I was busy as a pastor and in many cases worked a second job. I buried myself in study and became a voracious reader. I didn't have time to look at the pain inside. For the most part I denied it. I even bragged about how I was able to function in spite of my upbringing. 

Over time that protective layer dissipated and what I thought was buried began to crawl out of the graves I had dug for them. The past was alive in me and would no longer be silent or ignored. In 2015, with the unexpected death of a close friend, the fountains of the deep of my soul broke open. I was on a quick downward spiral. Since that time I have battled this deep scar with limited success. I realized that I had never really functioned at all, I had always been a prisoner of the past.

The echoes of my childhood resound deeply within me. My thoughts, self-concept and reactions are all tied to those years of distress. The patterns of behavior are profoundly imbedded in me. The past has ruled me for decades. I came to realize that I was not as strong or free as I had originally thought. The tentacles of the past are entwined in every aspect of my life. 

Knowing this is a benefit to me. I am now able to recognize the trauma reactions within me. The quickness to anger, the gnawing aloneness, the fear of abandonment and the sense that I am not really worthy of love or care. However, seeing it is different from conquering it. But seeing and knowing it is there gives me an opportunity to face those things and gain some ground against it. It took years for me to be demoralized and it will take a protracted time to work on these things.

I am not sure that I will ever master these defects. Though I am hopeful that I can gain some ground and find some semblance of peace in my life. There is some truth to the old saying, "where there is life, there is hope." Though sometimes I feel like the character on Monk who said, "I hate hopes guts," because sometimes hope isn't enough. In the darkness hope seems to mock your pain. It holds out a promise that you are not able to touch. Those moments hurt more than anything else can. 

Though the pain can be intense and crippling, there are moments of respite when the clouds disperse and the light breaks through. Though few and far between those are the moments I want to remember and hold on to. It is indicative of the promise hope give when we are not drowning in despair. 

All in all, there are good things in life. There is love and, yes, even joy. I want to look at the rainbow that comes after the storm instead of the dark clouds and blustering winds. Sometimes there is beauty in the storm because without it the rainbow would never be created. 

Thinking of you.  :grouphug:

Thank you. 

L2N,

Your heartfelt and sincere posts draw me in every time. I feel, or have felt, every word of your recent posts in my own life also.  When I read your letters, I don't just understand the words, I feel them. Empathy does that. We empathize when we have walked in the shoes of another. And empathy is one of the most beautiful feelings in my life. Love, connection, forgiveness, empathy...these are the feelings that I live for, and BTW, those aren't poetic words. I live for connection. I am still alive today only because of connection. I've been rescued from suicide about 4 times now, at ages 12, 20, 20 again, and 50. Each suicide attempt came during a feeling that nobody was connected with me, nobody cared about me, and the pain from being alone in a crowded world was literally unbearable.

Today's post drew me in mostly from your contemplations on Hope.

Speaking only for myself, hope, like anything, can heal me or kill me, depending on how I use it. It kept me going for a long time, but it never brought me out of the pain. In fact, in my life, it eventually caused a lot of my pain because the thing I'd hoped for from birth just never, ever, ever materialized.

In 2010, after our baby sister's suicide, my huge Catholic family totally unraveled. We had finally come to a long-needed war that irreparably tore the entire clan apart once and for all. (I am quoted as saying "my family finally became so ugly that even I couldn't love them anymore"). My eldest sister and I both ostracized at the same time (actually I left first. A few years later she left also. I never knew my eldest sister because she was married and gone from the west coast when I was only a small child. We've recently reconnected, but neither of us are back in the family, nor do we even know if any of them are still alive or not). Our littlest sister had been one of the people who'd saved me from suicide in my childhood (1972). But by 2008, they'd driven her to suicide, and I wasn't able to save her the way she'd saved me. As with the death of your lifelong friend, my life changed course at the death of my beautiful little sister. Knowing it was the family that did it to her opened my eyes to realize they were at the root of my own suicides also.

In 2010. I cursed hope. It had driven me deeper into the jungles of hopelessness by failing to help me dig up and out of the loneliness of my life. I started looking for any way to lift myself up from despair without following my beautiful sister into the darkness. I found a quote that changed me profoundly.

"Hope, in reality, is the worst of all evils because it prolongs the torments of man."
― Friedrich Nietzsche (1844-1900)

Sometimes, when we are so out of balance that we aren't even surviving, we suddenly overcorrect. We swing the pendulum too far the other way. If we do this on a bicycle, obviously we trade one problem for the opposite. Overcorrecting leads to an unrecoverable wobble and finally a mouthful of gravel in a twisted mess of flesh and chrome.  --But then, we learn, and we never overcorrect with the handlebars again. What doesn't kill us makes us stronger.

I think that's what I did. I over corrected. Nietzsche's life was a struggle from birth. He had proven to have insights into the human psyche that are still studied in psychology today, but at the same time he was riddled with health problems that not only didn't get better but progressed insidiously until his death. His hope for healing was unrealized. He was, in some ways, a fellow tortured soul. Perhaps more so than us. But his words of despair hit me in the heart and changed my view of life forever.

At first, I felt a huge relief. I saw that it was my hope that had kept me voluntarily tied to the deck of my family's sinking ship. My misuse of hope was from being raised in incurable pain. As a child I was helpless to defend against the jealousies and criticisms of my family and church. Since I felt helpless, hope was my only strategy for healing. Helplessness drove me to use hope too strongly. Hope had me sitting in wait for that ultimate apology from my abusers for what they'd done to my little sister and I. We were the late in life babies. My two next-elder siblings (#'s 2 and 3 of 5 --I'm #4) were much older than sis (#5) and I. Their abusive ways of treating us, coupled with the abuse the two of us had suffered in Catholic school, set us apart from the "real family" while it bonded us to each other like soldiers in a foxhole. (She's been gone since 2008, and I still cry when I try to talk about her). I know I'm not alone in feeling trapped in hope. I think this is what drive many people to say, "hope is all we have left". Hope can be driven by helplessness. When we have no other avenue, hope itself becomes the last hope.

I think that, for me, I have to realize that hope itself wasn't bad, but that when the day came that I could stand on my own, I had simply forgotten to stop relying solely on it like it was all I had left in the world.


TODAY: I'm trying to find the proper use for hope. It has a purpose, and I'm not good at truly recognizing what that purpose is. I relied on it solely to fix my pain, and obviously that's not what it was meant for.

I vilified it after sister's suicide. I walked away from it. I scorned it. I blamed it for my stalled lack of self-confidence to fix my own problems. I had wasted my life overdoing my hope for change to happen while the world around me went out and forged their own change. Hope didn't save her and it wasn't saving me. I had mistaken it for having a power it doesn't have, while somehow not truly learning what it's true power actually is.

I don't mean to be hijacking your journal. I just wanted to share with you that your words around hope touched me, and I wanted to share with you why they touched me. It's easy to say "I resonate" but the words "I resonate" mean more when I share with you why I resonate.

I guess, in what sounds like a lighthearted joke, but it's a serious comment, "I hope I can find the proper way to use hope" so it drives healing, rather than prolongs my agony.

I think that I am healing. I feel much more stable and able to let go of the pain of my past now. I know I can't change the past, but the books I'm reading now are teaching me how to heal the emotional pain of the unchangeable past.

But, I am truly working to find the real purpose and best use for hope in my own life.

As is my custom, I apologize for writing such a long response, and for possibly adding my own drama to your trauma. If I missed the mark here, by adding too much of my own feelings to yours, I apologize. You've sparked me to take a look at hope again, and I wanted to share with you that your posts are typically quite helpful to me.

Sincerely, and from the heart,

PC

PC,
I am so sorry for the things you have endured. In spite of it all you are a kind and caring person. 

You have not hijacked my journal. Your posts are always helpful and full of insight. You have been a valuable friend. 

The thing about hope is that as cruel as it seems it still spurs us on to improve ourselves. Hope in unrealistic expectations is where the pain starts. 

I have envisioned myself living free of pain and unmoved by the past. It is a kind of emotional utopia. 

Realistically, the past will always be with me. My desire is to recognize it, contextualize it, and know that it can no longer harm me. It seems simple, but it has been the hardest goal for me to reach. My emotions, brain, and body just don't want to cooperate with my will. 

I'm sure I'll get there someday. 😌