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Hi Trius,
Through your writing, I sense courage, resilience, determination and a dedication to serve for a greater good— all incredible qualities.
And I'm glad you know that you deserve support as you support others.
I too "still have a ways to go in learning how to be in close relationship with others", as you wrote. That's the very reason that also drew me to OOTS.
This forum is a solid, positive place to connect with others who understand.
I'm glad to meet you and welcome.

Thank you, Kizzie, for posting this meditation class as a resource! Adam, the teacher, is grounded, compassionate, and intelligent.
Through the class, I have gained a lot of direct insight into how meditation helps me heal from CPTSD and build self-acceptance.
I encourage anyone who is drawn to meditation to give this class a try.
Again, thank you, Kizzie— I would not have found the class without you posting it here!

Hi Blueberry,
I think I understand your question. (If I miss the mark, I apologize.)
I've been in active battle with negative self-concept for decades. Therapy has been a common thread as has been my own research. I can very much relate to feeling "sick of coming back again and again to this", as you wrote. It can feel grueling, lonely, and never-ending. Its roots definitely run old and deep.
I have experienced meaningful quieting over time of the howling worthlessness. I attribute this sense of internal progress to 2 core aspects.
1. Spending time being (not doing) in nature daily, even for just a few minutes. The wordless wonder of gazing at a tiny bug on a plant, the moon, breathing fresh air... focusing as much as I am able in the moment on experiencing the simple, profound beauty around me... feeling a special relaxation as a tiny spec in the vast cosmos... it's a feeling along the lines of "well, here I am, Here we all are, existing together, and it's ok. It's pretty amazing actually." It's the experience of it that has been healing for me. Hard to put in words. The more I open myself to it, the more alive and worth I feel.

2. I've slowly come to peace with the notion that healing/freedom is a process that has no singular finish line... and that I am ok with this truth. I spent all those years fighting so hard and believing if I did more, tried some new technique, then I'd get to that all-important place where the grass was greener and I'd finally "be ok". I can even chuckle ruefully at that, because I know now my worth and goodness have been with me all along, just buried and choked out. But not dead. I resuscitate and revive and re-seed the garden of myself, day by day, step by step. In whatever ways feel best to me.

And, Blueberry, your aliveness and determination reach me through your words. I send you friendship and good wishes

"To feel like I am here, and that what I am doing aligns with what I need. I am still figuring this out, I struggle so much making decisions that are not survival based, or taking care of other peoples needs. But I know this is important."

  This is beautiful and powerful, Blue Jays. And important, indeed

Thank you, Kizzie, I'm a work in process!
It feels good and very special to be able to share the progress here 

Thanks, Dalloway

Thank you for the supportive words, NK

Hi friends, I've recently put the puzzle together of my past. I'd like to share it here.
On the maternal side of my family, ancestors left Poland in the 1860's to settle in Wisconsin. The Polish heritage was seen as shameful and buried in denial.
On the paternal side, there are several generations of abusive alcoholics.
These lineages converged in me, 1st born child to my parents in the 1960's. They expected a boy, I arrived a female with a deformity—- a club foot that required surgery and casts starting in the first weeks of life.
In the cast from hip to toes, my parents took me to India when I was 6 months old. They told me stories of how they handed me to strangers in restaurants who carried blonde-haired, white-skinned baby-me into back kitchens of India and Burma.
I see now how emblematic this was of the total lack of attachment between me and my mother. It shows her deep cluelessness and profound carelessness.
My father was a predator. My mother was glad to pawn him off. On me, her daughter.
As far back as I remember, my survival mask was good-girl, caretaker, hyper-empath, smart, performer. It was never enough. I cut off more parts of me, submerging more questions. I couldn't get things to add up. I tried harder. Disavowed myself more. All the while battling a sense that it wasn't right, but driven to survive.
I served in the Peace Corps in Africa and received the gifts of perspective and humanity. I felt a greater sense of community and belonging there, as the only outsider in a small village without electricity or running water, than I ever had in my life.
It was the beginning of an awakening and a recalibration... and my parents hated it.
"Get back here and be who you used to be!" My mother said.
Breast cancer was a further wake-up call for me to never return to the despair of self-abandonment and conditional affection.
It has taken decades to piece this saga together, to set down the heavy yoke, and to begin to connect with my authentic self.
It seems so tidy all written out here, but the process has been spiral, filled with dead ends, back tracking, and doubts. I still face terrifying flashbacks, but am able to recognize them sooner and self-soothe more.
I still am working on being my own best friend. I still long for connection with other authentic souls.
But breathing the air of self-acceptance is amazing!
So, onward.
Thank you for reading. I welcome your feedback and thoughts.

Hi EVader,
It definitely does feel like "a long, cold road."
Your persistence to keep stepping forward reaches me loud and clear through your words.
I too recently joined OOTS and am ready to heal with a supportive community. Here we are 

I am tired of not having parents right now. I feel like I would really benefit from that kind of support and encouragement. My ambition and direction in life is at a pause. I have been spending essentially all my time working on my mental health, relationships, my relationship with my body, religious trauma, and trying to find joy. I am frustrated that I am not like my friends and acquaintances. I still remain the one people don't know how to talk to. But many MANY of my friends are afraid of being genuine, honest, having hard conversations or even conversations that would require introspection.

Hi Blue Jays, I personally relate to a whole lot of what you wrote. I have experienced the loneliness that comes with seeing the past and the present clearly, and then choosing a different, healthier trajectory for the future without guarantees. The loss is real. The frustration is real. It can be hard knowing so keenly what is no more, without knowing yet what will be.
Your awareness and determination shine through your words. Give yourself patience and grace for all you are facing, for the lies you are calling out, for the truth you are embracing, for the self you are being.

I like my ability to seek the truth and grow.
I like my integrity.
I like that I've structured my life to be in congruence with my values.
I like my skills as a parent.
I like that I am becoming a good friend to myself.
I like that I am determined, and that I don't give up on what is important to me.

Wow— thanks for the opportunity to make that list!

I feel glad reading about the joy libraries and books brought to people posting on this thread. I never imagined others also took refuge in the public libraries of the world from abusive home environments.

The library in my small home town was a short walk from the elementary school, and even better than that, the library shared a building with the local police department. There was a secondary glass door that divided the library from the police offices. And there was a wooden carrel/desk between the bookshelves next to that door. Even though the passage door was locked, I could see the officers and staff going about their administrative activities as I did my homework. I felt protected, but keenly aware that the library would eventually close for the day and I'd be on my own again, an unprotected child. I never got to see that glass door open.

In later years, as an adult, I called the police when my mother stalked me. The responding officers were professional, empathetic, and effective. I know many people have negative experiences with the police. I certainly am grateful for their protection when I needed it.

Amazing back stories here for everyone's names!
I chose Marcine because it is the name of one of my ancestors, 5 generations back, who emigrated from Hamburg to Quebec in 1863. She got on a sailboat with her elderly parents, husband and their 3 month old daughter for what surely was a harrowing trip across the North Atlantic.
The family originally lived in West Prussia/Poland and settled in central Wisconsin.
I only found this family history out very recently through my own research. No one ever talked to me about this remarkable, ancestral courage.
Shame was the muzzle.
So choosing this name connects me to Marcine's courage to make a better life for herself and her parents and infant. Without that choice, I probably wouldn't be here today.

I appreciate this thread also and I'm glad I pulled in to the "validation station" today.

I've been lately trying to speak positively and honestly to myself without gaslighting. Often affirmations sound phony to me.
Here are a few encouraging truths I tell myself in good and bad moments that I can usually take onboard.

I stay with my body during times of turbulence. I cultivate safety within myself by breathing calmly and intentionally.

My home is the present moment. I am safe here.

I don't chase stupid things and I don't believe stupid thoughts. Truth is my ally and friend.

Chaos,
There's a classic book on shame by John Bradshaw. Maybe you've already read it?
Anyway I hope your feeling better. Sending support.
 

Chart, good suggestion, thank you. I just checked "Healing the Shame that Binds You" out from my local library. How did I never read this before?