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Today my philosophy teacher complimented me on a seminar paper I wrote about the importance of social work in modern world. I hated the text I sent him. I didn´t think it was good enough, I didn´t even think it was enough to pass the exam. But then he told me that this was a brilliant work and he liked it very much. At first, I was shocked and relieved that I passed the exam, and honestly, I couldn´t believe my ears. My strongest belief was that everything I do is at best average. I was happy for a moment, I could feel the joy spreading in my body, it made me smile. But then the bad stuff hit in.

The disbelief that it can be true was massive. There´s no way he´s right. There needs to be an explanation other than I really deserved the praise. He´s wrong. He´s exaggerating. The other works were so bad that mine looked better in that light. He doesn´t know what he´s talking about. I refused to let in the idea of simply being sufficient and good enough. I believe that every single person in this world is wrong about me when they attribute me some positive qualities. I´m an impostor and soon they´ll know that. And then I´ll be shamed and punished cause that´s what liars like me deserve. Or what´s even worse than punishment, I won´t live up to their expectations, and I´ll have to face the terrible fact that I let down everyone. Because I´m a disappointment, that´s what I am.

I took the train home and as I settled, tears welled up in my eyes. That´t when I understood that I was grieving for that little girl who never once got positive attention in her life, who was never told how precious she was and was always gaslit into believing that she´s a damaged good. I was uncomfortable hearing the compliments because I never got one from my own mother. And I felt heartbreak hearing this random teacher say those kind words to me because my mom never even got close to be this kind to me. I was crying for the child that was lied to about her not being good enough that led to her adult self questioning even the smallest things she does.

At this point, I´m equally heartbroken and helpless. It´s a lot to take in. It´s hard to comprehend how can someone destroy their own child´s self-esteem at the very core. And it´s even harder to understand how huge of an impact it had on my life. It´s literally everywhere. My very core was injured, the part that was supposed to make me a whole person with a clear sense of self. How could I function as a whole and healthy person when I was betrayed this bad? My whole world fell apart once upon a time when I was a little kid. Now the adult found those pieces but doesn´t know what to do with them.

I would say YOU GO GIRL...but it would be weird, wouldn´t it?      So maybe leave the "girl" part out. I´m very happy for you and pass me some non-alcoholic alternative please. 

Hi and a warm welcome, Olly. I can relate to you not being comfortable with talking about your trauma related issues to anyone except your therapist, it´s a hard one for me, too. Mostly I´m afraid (or certain in a way) that people won´t understand and then I won´t be seen and heard and that freaks me out. I´m glad though that you found your way here just as the tiny turtles find their way to the ocean after being hatched. 
My favorite reptile is turtle, not just because they are cute  but also for their strength and resilience - they´re a little like us, CPTSD folks. And I really like the vibes your request created in the comments, the playfulness of it is really heartwarming, so thank you for that. 

I´m thinking about the heartbreakingly beautiful Beatles song, The long and winding road and I picture myself walking on that road, but then I remember that it´s not even my road that I paved with my decisions and acts. It was made for me by unfortunate forces that forced me to walk that road. I didn´t get to say if I wanted that. Nor did I get to grow up to be a person I could be. Instead, I grew up to be an entity, not even a person, because a person, in my opinion, has its own traits.

It´s a recovery journal, but I don´t think I am recovering. Maybe I shouldn´t write in this section, it feels hypocritical of me to think about this as a part of my healing journey. Which journey? That I´ve been doing so far from the perspective of someone who was constructed to be me? Because the person I had a potential to be is sure not the one that is suffering through her days, trying to make sense of things that simply don´t make any sense.

Building something in top of sand is very hard work. And not just that, it´s absolutely meaningless. You can try million times and return to the very same spot you started from. You walk the road that´s been paved for many decades. The long, winding road. Only it´s not YOUR road, it´s someone else´s. But changing the whole paradigm of your existence is not easy, especially if you don´t have any new paradigms that would do. You don´t want to start building a sandcastle again.

So I´m just waiting and waiting. Trying to find meaning in this chaos and trying to wish for the things to finally settle, because at this moment they are just floating on the surface of my consciousness like waterlilies. And I´m not able to do anything more than watching it hypnotized and numb. The world is deconstructed and I can´t decide whether it´s something new or if it was just like this before, only my eyes were closed. I will have to wait patiently to find out.

TW for the whole text - mention of abuse

I get jealous of people who are cared for all the time. The presence of other people in each other´s lives makes me feel my utter loneliness and pain even more. I dream about similar things almost every night: the scenario is always me being around a bunch of people who are getting along very well, but seemingly unaware of the fact that I´m also part of the group. The pain I feel every night is very real because it´s the same pain I feel constantly when I´m awake. So during the day, in those hours of sleepwalking and actively trying to stay sane enough to do the things I´m supposed to as an adult, my whole existence is about profound and omnipresent loneliness. People´s interactions, understanding of each other and connections remind me of my being an outsider, far-far away from the human society. And every missed connection, each skipped conversation, every laughter and chitchat I´m not a part of, is telling me the decades long story that I´ve already memorized when I was a child. "You are not a valuable human being with a shape and form, boundaries and a real existence. You are just a shapeless entity, made to serve other people´s needs and desires. You don´t have your voice, it was all given to you and one day, when you decide to give it back, you´ll have nothing left."

The person I was made into never got to experience what true love is. She never once heard that she´s loved and frankly, that the people around her are really glad that she´s there. She has no qualities that she could give in exchange for love from others. She doesn´t even expect anyone to love her, because she understands that that´s impossible, since she´s unlovable. That´s what she learned with every breath, with every word and every glance from her mother, every time she was yelled at, called names and hit. "You only get what you deserve and deep in your heart you know that´s because you deserve nothing more than that."

It´s a person that was made to suffer. I´m not wondering why. I only know that she doesn´t for a second believe that she deserves the love she´s yearning for. Just like in her dreams - or should I at this point start to call them nightmares - of every night: no one´s there to validate her existence and if someone does, it´s in a so pitiful way that getting nothing feels better than that. "You are a burden to people, can´t you see that?" And she knows that and knows that she was indeed made to suffer. Dreaming or awake, her shadow is following her everywhere. The shadow made of tears, blood and silent cries, cause no one comes to help anyway.

But now this person is a sweetheart, smiling at the terrible world that made her suffer. She doesn´t know better than to smile. Crying is not an option - it´s totally useless and also totally dangerous. If she´s nice all the time, she can maybe get some affection at least. Attention that is faked or illusory, she has no doubt about that. There´s no way people are capable of giving true, unconditional love to her. Her mother didn´t do that, why would they? Everyone wants something in return. Be silent, be a good girl, listen to all the names they are calling you, stay still when they accuse you of things you didn´t do, feel you rage boiling in your chest and then swallow it. Forget the natural instincts you were born with: stay quiet when you want to scream, stay in your place when you want to run away and hide. Freeze, again and again and again.

I need to talk about her in third person sometimes. This person can´t be me. She´s so broken and full of scars, who would like to be her? To think about all the things she went through is scary as *. And yet, it´s me carrying the memories that haunt me in my dreams. I can´t get rid of them, can´t push them away, send them to the end of the world. I have to live with all that happened and continues to happen day by day. It never ended because it lives inside me for the rest of my life.

HannahOne, a very warm welcome, I´m glad you´re here. Your post resonates with me very much, especially the grieving of the things you never had because of the trauma. I´m struggling with this very much right know, I just can´t seem to let go of all the "what ifs" I carry with myself. But I try to be understanding and patient towards myself and "trust the process". I hope you´ll find all the support you need here. 

Hi Saluki,
a few years ago I also decided to write down my story, but when I started, I realized that it´s very hard because of the traumatic memory that isn´t linear and all the emotions that are changing in their intensity from time to time, so they are not stable or consistent enough to be able to capture them. So I kind of accepted that it´s impossible for me to get a whole picture of it all with beginning and ending because it´s still in progress. But I appreciate very much all the people who write their memoires because it gives me much hope and validation, so I´m glad these books exist. For me, writing is something very soothing, I journal every day, but it´s usually a stream of thoughts about the things that are bothering me the most at the moment. It´s my way of feeling less alone with my struggles. And I also write here on the forum, which is a safe place, but I can´t imagine exposing myself to a potentially unsafe environment. But again, I´m very grateful for people who decide to publish their stories and I agree with you that it can be very helpful for fellow trauma survivors.

your post TheBigBlue

Welcome to the forum, Dochartaigh. I´m so sorry for everything you went through. You were a precious child and deserved to be loved. The thought of our parents´ mistreatment breaks my heart. It´s something I know too well, unfortunately. I hope you can find all the support and validation you need here. I´m glad you found us. 

Twenty years ago, as a kid, I wrote you a letter out of desperation and immense pain. In that letter, which I never gave to you but kept it till this day, I asked you a question and tried to answer it for myself. The question was: why don´t you love me? I kept asking in the letter if I did something wrong and if you were ever going to love me. Now, as an adult, with a long healing journey behind me and an even longer one ahead of me, I´m not asking any of those questions anymore. Not that I gave up, I just simply know the answers to those questions. And that is that it was never about me in the first place. I´ve always been worthy of love, I´ve always been enough, only you couldn´t see it, couldn´t see me. You were and still are unable to see my value as your child or even as a human being. You keep telling me how proud you are of me, but your words don´t match your actions, and even your usual words don´t match those you´re saying when you´re in a good mood.

You know, this is the hardest part not just for me, but for many of my fellow trauma survivors: coming to terms with the fact that my own mother can´t appreciate and love me unconditionally. Of all the people who don´t owe me anything, who are strangers to me, right you, mother, have to be the one that doesn´t see how precious I am? It hurts in the deepest realms of my soul, at the place that I am keeping untouched till the day when you will finally acknowledge my existence. But I have to brace myself for the possibility that this day might never come.

And I´m building a fine, silky net from all the wonderful people I meet, from all the love and warmth I get, from all the strength and resilience I collect from within me. And it gets stronger and stronger, even though it still keeps its fragility. I am learning the things you never taught me: how to be accepting of myself and others, how to receive and give love, how to be vulnerable and fierce at the same time, how to live a meaningful life.

Now I´m writing you this letter that you´ll also never see. But I don´t mind it, you know. I´m starting to be okay with the fact that you´ll never see me the way you should as a mother. And that I don´t have to explain you the basics of how to love your children. It´s not my duty to heal you and to make you see me. I´m on my own healing journey and guess what: it´s awesome and empowering and most importantly, I´m learning that the way you raised me was not okay and that it wasn´t my fault, it wasn´t something I did wrong, it just happened because of your huuge package of unresolved trauma. Seeing the better examples of how you can live your life gives me hope. I wish one day you can experience it, too.

It´s been a while since anyone posted in here, but I was scrolling through the topics, reading and relating and commenting and sharing and suddenly I realized how grateful I am for this forum that´s been a game changer and life saver for me. I don´t really believe in faith or things like that, but I cannot thank life enough for leading me here.
 

Silveris, thank you very much for reminding me of this thread. Right today I had a very painful experience with watching a sweet video about a dad who was thanking his daughter for making his life meaningful, that completely destroyed me emotionally cause I realized how little unconditional love and acceptance I got as a child, so watching something that I needed so much but never had was extremely triggering. It made me think about all the instances I got angry at seeing someone being affectionate or shoving love, but had no idea why. Now I´m starting to realize that it´s because it makes me feel uncomfortable to see something I miss so much.
Anyway, I´m glad that you had breakthroughs with some emotions, realizing something that you´ve tried to decipher for years and suddenly connecting the dots feels very liberating, so good for you. 

I know your post was made a few weeks ago, but I wanted to express my sorrow about your situation and everything you went through because of your abusive brother. I believe it´s very difficult to be around someone who reminds you of the past abuse and your traumatic memories. I wonder if you managed to talk to your psychologist about this, I hope you did.

Hi and welcome to the forum. Well, where to start? because most of what you explained was something I would tell about my life. It resonated with me so much and partly I´m sorry for that because that means we suffered a lot and continue to do, but on the other hand, your writing about this made me feel seen and validated, so thank you for that. I´m really sorry for everything you´ve been through, it´s really hard to feel invisible and not worthy of love. My background story is very similar - being constantly ignored, the only attention I got was the negative one. No one saw, comforted or validated me, no one ever told me they love me and appreciate me and that they are happy I´m alive. I was the invisible child, the one that needs no love and care, the one that can provide for herself, and apparently it was ok for everyone to think that a child can exist without love. But I was slowly dying inside, just like a plant would die without sunlight and water.

Your story about the old friend you reached out to was something I´ve just experienced, so it hit really hard. I had a seven years long grudge with my former partner, who I had a terrible breakup with. We haven´t talked since then, but I´v always carried the burden of guilt and wanted to apologize to him because of the things I said to him. I met him two days ago and that gave me a confidence boost to finally text him, which I did - the answer was rather cold and distant, he let me know that he doesn´t want to reopen the topic and doesn´t want to talk to me at all. Boy, it hurt so much, even though rationally I knew I have to accept his reaction and that he has a right not to accept my apology. But my emotions don´t care for rationality, so it was horrible, it still is, because his rejection reminded me of the core rejection from my mother, the invisibility, the worthlessness and the frustration: why can´t he understand that I was in huge pain when I did those things? That I was not ok back then? And most importantly: that now I am a way better person, way healthier, way more healed and much wiser that I would never do that to him or anyone else again? I felt so desperate to make him see and hear me...

Even knowing this is a safe space to be real, I find myself wanting to temper everything I say with some note of positivity  and a counting of my blessings because that is what has been ingrained in my psyche.

It´s so comforting and so scary at the same time, how someone can hit the bullseye of my lived experience so precisely...I´ve always been doing this positivity thing, not letting myself to feel bad or stuck, because I´m afraid that if I allow myself to be down, I stay there forever. And it´s very hard to advocate for myself when the only one doing it for me is me. It makes me feel just more isolated and more alone.

I don´t mean to hijack your post, so sorry if it felt like that. I just had so many things to say because everything you wrote, resonated with me very much and made me feel validated. I thank you for that and hope that by writing these things down you felt a little relief at least. 

Thank you everyone for taking the time to write something nice to me and for validating my experience.
I find it very challenging these days to navigate between pleasant and unpleasant emotions. It´s like a roller coaster ride with my eyes covered, so I can´t see what´s coming next - the up or the down. Lately I´ve been involved in different activities with different groups of people that filled me with a lot of energy. For the first time in my life I experienced real human connections and presence in the company of other people. It gave me the impression that I truly exist, that I´m not just an abstract something without borders and contours. This experience was out of this world and left me wanting for more. The more real I start to feel, the more I need to be connected to the reality. I realized that I´ve always had this need, I was born as an expectation for it. So when I started to experience it, it was as if a valve had been opened and now I yearn for more. I know that there´s huge amount of love that I´m capable of giving and receiving and that it´s always been my natural need.