Hi there. My name is Kimberly, I'm a newly-turned 30-year-old Emergency/ICU Veterinary Technician living in sunny California.
This has been a * of a week, and I kind of feel like I'm going crazy.
I went to my first therapy session this week, specifically to address a long history of severe anxiety, deep depression, and outbursts of rage. I grew up in a broken household with an emotionally abusive and terrifying bipolar father and a manipulative, narcissistic mother. I was isolated, ignored, abused, bullied, used, and controlled. I have experienced multiple sexual abuse situations from the time I was 5 years old onward; never by my parents, but always by close family members or friends of the family. There was drug use and violence in my household. Growing up the way I did fostered a sense of extreme shame and guilt in me, prevented me from being confident, severely stunted my ability to form interpersonal skills, and made me a complete wreck of an adult. At one point, food was my only comfort, and I ballooned to 320 lbs (I am now 170 lbs after 4 years of working hard to achieve better health). I got married too young, and now at 30, I am going through a divorce. I think, for the longest time, I kept myself buried in the dark about my trauma, and it's only been within the last two years that I've come to fully realize how hurt I was...and to be honest? It's really * me up.
I started anxious behaviors around the time my marriage ended and I moved out of our house. I found myself living with a coworker, which I was appreciative of, but wasn't a good environment for me to be in. I started picking at my scalp in times of extreme anxiety, which then progressed to thoughtlessly rubbing my skin raw, which then progressed to purposefully scratching myself, and finally, I began cutting myself. Never to end my life, only ever to relieve the pressure-valve of anxiety I was feeling...to gain some form of control over my surroundings. To give me something physical that I could focus on and care for and fix and make feel better.
I finally sought out therapy because the cutting went from being just on my left thigh, to my right leg, and then to my inner forearm. My thoughts went from just wanting to relieve the anxiety to...wanting to stop existing all together. I got scared. I've been scaring my significant other, too, and my outbursts, anger, and self-mutilation has been causing a lot of fights between us. My work, which I am proud of and love, has been suffering as my mental health declines, so I figured...it's time to see someone. Right? Right.
Except, well...after my first therapy session, I felt good. Accomplished. Like I'd done something good for myself, and I was feeling positive about the experience, even though we basically talked about every single major thing that had ever affected me, in great detail. He said I likely have Complex PTSD, since the traumas I sustained were not singular experiences, but over a lifetime and by people whom I depended on for survival. Okay, I thought. I can live with that. That doesn't sound SO bad. PTSD. No biggie.
I was so wrong.
It wasn't until about a day after that suddenly, the rage and depression hit like a tidal wave. I've never felt so bad. It's like my therapist took Pandora's Box and just opened that mother up and spilled everything out, and there was no way to stuff it all back inside. I had several episodes of such extreme depression, I thought I would just die. I cut myself worse than I ever have before. I cried hysterically. My boyfriend and I fought our worst fight yet as he tried to help me and I did everything in my power to push him away and sabotage myself. I lost control completely. Somehow, I got through that initial downward spiral, but now I'm absolutely sapped of energy. I barely feel anything other than shame, the kind of shame that makes you want to crawl under a rock and never see daylight again. I'm not eating well or sleeping well. I'm dreading going back to therapy next week.
I guess my introduction is this: I'm new to C-PTSD. I'm new to the emotions involved in facing it and processing it. I'm new to talking about it. I'm new to managing it. And I'm just looking for support...either someone to talk to who's been through something similar, someone who's had this same reaction to therapy at first, just...someone. My boyfriend loves me very much and is as supportive as he can be, and he definitely-probably-most-likely has C-PTSD as well from his own turbulent, abusive childhood, but he hasn't faced that yet and so he doesn't quite understand why I react the way I do and what I'm feeling.
Is there anybody out there? This feels like such a long, long road I'm about to go down and I'm feeling overwhelmed.
This has been a * of a week, and I kind of feel like I'm going crazy.
I went to my first therapy session this week, specifically to address a long history of severe anxiety, deep depression, and outbursts of rage. I grew up in a broken household with an emotionally abusive and terrifying bipolar father and a manipulative, narcissistic mother. I was isolated, ignored, abused, bullied, used, and controlled. I have experienced multiple sexual abuse situations from the time I was 5 years old onward; never by my parents, but always by close family members or friends of the family. There was drug use and violence in my household. Growing up the way I did fostered a sense of extreme shame and guilt in me, prevented me from being confident, severely stunted my ability to form interpersonal skills, and made me a complete wreck of an adult. At one point, food was my only comfort, and I ballooned to 320 lbs (I am now 170 lbs after 4 years of working hard to achieve better health). I got married too young, and now at 30, I am going through a divorce. I think, for the longest time, I kept myself buried in the dark about my trauma, and it's only been within the last two years that I've come to fully realize how hurt I was...and to be honest? It's really * me up.
I started anxious behaviors around the time my marriage ended and I moved out of our house. I found myself living with a coworker, which I was appreciative of, but wasn't a good environment for me to be in. I started picking at my scalp in times of extreme anxiety, which then progressed to thoughtlessly rubbing my skin raw, which then progressed to purposefully scratching myself, and finally, I began cutting myself. Never to end my life, only ever to relieve the pressure-valve of anxiety I was feeling...to gain some form of control over my surroundings. To give me something physical that I could focus on and care for and fix and make feel better.
I finally sought out therapy because the cutting went from being just on my left thigh, to my right leg, and then to my inner forearm. My thoughts went from just wanting to relieve the anxiety to...wanting to stop existing all together. I got scared. I've been scaring my significant other, too, and my outbursts, anger, and self-mutilation has been causing a lot of fights between us. My work, which I am proud of and love, has been suffering as my mental health declines, so I figured...it's time to see someone. Right? Right.
Except, well...after my first therapy session, I felt good. Accomplished. Like I'd done something good for myself, and I was feeling positive about the experience, even though we basically talked about every single major thing that had ever affected me, in great detail. He said I likely have Complex PTSD, since the traumas I sustained were not singular experiences, but over a lifetime and by people whom I depended on for survival. Okay, I thought. I can live with that. That doesn't sound SO bad. PTSD. No biggie.
I was so wrong.
It wasn't until about a day after that suddenly, the rage and depression hit like a tidal wave. I've never felt so bad. It's like my therapist took Pandora's Box and just opened that mother up and spilled everything out, and there was no way to stuff it all back inside. I had several episodes of such extreme depression, I thought I would just die. I cut myself worse than I ever have before. I cried hysterically. My boyfriend and I fought our worst fight yet as he tried to help me and I did everything in my power to push him away and sabotage myself. I lost control completely. Somehow, I got through that initial downward spiral, but now I'm absolutely sapped of energy. I barely feel anything other than shame, the kind of shame that makes you want to crawl under a rock and never see daylight again. I'm not eating well or sleeping well. I'm dreading going back to therapy next week.
I guess my introduction is this: I'm new to C-PTSD. I'm new to the emotions involved in facing it and processing it. I'm new to talking about it. I'm new to managing it. And I'm just looking for support...either someone to talk to who's been through something similar, someone who's had this same reaction to therapy at first, just...someone. My boyfriend loves me very much and is as supportive as he can be, and he definitely-probably-most-likely has C-PTSD as well from his own turbulent, abusive childhood, but he hasn't faced that yet and so he doesn't quite understand why I react the way I do and what I'm feeling.
Is there anybody out there? This feels like such a long, long road I'm about to go down and I'm feeling overwhelmed.