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All,
 This song came up on my playlist today and it hit me pretty hard.
 The first verse is pretty spot- on, but the rest misses the mark.
 
"The key to my survival was never much in doubt.
The question was how I could keep sane while trying to find a way out.
Things were never easy for me. Peace of mind was hard to find.
I needed a place where I could hide, somewhere that I could call mine.
I didn't think much about it until it started happening all the time.
Soon I was living with the fear everyday, of what would happen that night.
I couldn't stand to hear the crying of my mother and I remember when...
I swore that that that was the last they'd ever see of me and I'd never go home again".

 And so the song progresses and the prodigal son returns only to find that he has been disowned by his abusive father for his abandonment. "You're no son of mine".

 This is where the song gets it wrong. It's not just the abuser that casts you out, it's *everyone*.
 None of them can relate to that decision.

 Cutting all ties and fleeing is a drastic option; one that I and my surviving siblings all took. Everyone was affected, the guilty and innocent alike. They have no way to relate to that decision and they will all condemn you for it.

 There is no closure. There is no rapprochement.The only "family" you will ever have from that point on is the one you have made for yourself.
 My baby sister is only just now learning this fact.

All,
 It's been weeks (months?) since the last time I've posted.
 The best I can say is that DBR seems to be *very* powerful, but also very exhausting. I have very vivid and pointed dreams every night as my subconscious processes my lost memories, which leave me more tired when I wake up than I was when I went to sleep. Sometimes I understand my dreams, sometimes I don't.
 I also lost a disturbing amount of weight this summer. Down from 143 lbs to 124 (a large percentage of body mass). I've clawed my way back to 132 through eating lots of military MREs.
 I simply don't feel the need or inclination to discuss the trauma of my childhood anymore. I also don't feel like I've made any major changes in my life, which would indicate that I've started breaking my cPTSD habits. I feel like I've just reverted to the "normal" that has carried me all these decades.
 I've made friends with a rescue dog named "Maverick" through my GF. He's a lanky tan stray mystery breed. All ears, tail, and legs. Highly intelligent. He doesn't get along with other dogs and can't be around them, but loves humans.The two of us are dopplegangers. It's like looking through a dark mirror.
 I don't know what (if anything) I can add to the convo here. Just my unique experiences.
 Best,
Slashy

 

All,
 I won't be able to see my T for the next couple weeks, and I have a couple questions that are nagging me.

1) I've been having dreams lately that I wake up certain that they were related to my childhood, but I immediately lose all recollection of them. Is this normal? Should I be concerned that I don't remember them?

2) I've been having very brief "snapshot" memories from my childhood lately out of the blue. Not even long enough to build any context from them. Thankfully, none of them have been distressing.
 Again, is this normal and should I be concerned?

Thanks,
-Slashy

All,
 Every time I do a DBR session, I find myself in a constant state of anxiety afterwards for days. It's like a slow adrenaline leak. It screws up my sleep, my ability to concentrate, and my appetite.

 Is this common? Is this going to happen every time?

 Best,
-Slashy

 All,
 I just had a weird experience at my therapist's office today. She was explaining 'dissociation' toward the end of our hour, and she said her next patient might not be there yet because her light wasn't on.
 I asked how the light is triggered, and she said by the toggle switch by the door. She said I flipped the switch when I arrived, but I have no memory of even noticing the switch was there, let alone flipping it.

 I told her this, and she chuckled and said we'll talk more about dissociation next week. 

 Apparently this is an example? How much other stuff have I been doing on 'autopilot' not even noticing I did it? 

 Not gonna lie, I'm kinda weirded out by this.

 Best,
-Slashy
 

All,
 This is how I discovered how to turn night terrors to my advantage.

 I had a spate of night terrors a few years ago. They were so bad that I was losing enough sleep for it to be a problem. So in my typical nerd fashion I began to analyze what was going on. The sleep paralysis was totally normal. It's just how my body protects itself from injury while in REM sleep. What I was 'hearing' was just an auditory hallucination. This gave rise to visual hallucinations, all of which were scaring me.

 The problem was that my conscious mind was still active at a point where it was not supposed to be. Once I convinced myself that it was safe to fall asleep instead of trying to fight my way to wakefulness, I did.

 I felt a falling sensation and immediately 'woke up' in my own bed. The first question that came to mind was 'am I really awake right now, or is this a dream?'. Stepping into the hallway immediately answered that question. This was not my house. I was dreaming. I was fully conscious of the fact that I was dreaming.

 It did not occur to me at that point that I had 100% control over the dream itself, but I remember every moment of that dream as fully as any waking moment.

 This was fascinating to me! So I resolved to try it again, and it worked that time too. That dream I actually controlled, which was amazing! I could change any aspect of the dream I wished, I could fly, whatever.

 I soon came to welcome the night terrors (later the precursor hallucinations themselves) as my gateway to lucid dreams. I developed habits to establish whether I was dreaming or not. Look out the window to check the scenery. step out of the bedroom and look around. Read a book and see if the text changes.

 That 'changing text' method amused me so much once that I kept reading the changing text just to see what it would say next. It said 'please stop doing that'.    There was an intelligence on the other side of the changing text. I soon found out that I could communicate *directly* with my own subconscious through asking questions and reading the responses in the text.

 I have not developed the ability to lucid dream at will and haven't had many night terrors lately. But now I look forward to them. I plan on putting that direct communication with my own subconscious to use as I work my way through this.

 So this is my good news for anyone who has trouble with night terrors. For me they are the gateway to lucid dreams and I bet they are for you as well.

Best,
-Slashy 

 Last night was a series of unpleasant dreams. I'd wake up from one, try to decompress and get back to sleep, then have another one. They all revolved around the same theme; feeling like everyone was ganging up on me. I could not set boundaries, call them out, defend myself, or even escape. Everyone interpreted whatever I did like *I* was the aggressor and come after me.
 My mother even made a cameo appearance (haven't dreamed about her in who knows how long). She came stalking in and told me I need to have a talk with her boyfriend. I was resolute. I don't "need" to do anything she says and I have nothing to say to hem.
 She got angry and slapped me, but it was so weak and feeble it didn't hurt. Like getting slapped by a toddler. I didn't even touch my cheek, just looked at her sadly. "So, it's right back to that, then"?
 I was in the middle of telling her how much of an immature bratty petulant little girl she was when I woke up.

 I get what it's all about; all the recent events that have brought me here. My subconscious has a *lot* to say about it.
________________________

 I'm very apprehensive about therapy. My T has warned me that this process may reawaken my inner critical voice and bring back my suicidal depression. That terrifies me, but I'm resolute in my decision to press on.

_______________________

 When someone is abused or neglected as a child, they often grow up to become the person that they wish they had in *their* life. Someone who is kind and caring. Someone who will befriend them and listen. Someone who will help.
 Sadly, in my experience most people that are that way had similar experiences as children and we grow to recognize and gravitate toward each other.

 I was talking with my GF (a literal red- headed stepchild) the other night, and she was reiterating about how she was always afraid that that she would've been an abusive mother. I've told her many times that the fear was unfounded, as I've known her for decades and I've seen how good she is with kids. One of the examples is the little boy who would come around to visit her; how she'd ask him about what was going on, let him talk, and really listen, etc.

 She said "yeah, but that's only because he was broken". I didn't get the importance of that comment in the moment. I do now. 

_____________________
*EDIT*
 I've been told I'll need to welcome and allow my panic attacks, as they will be a critical part of the healing process.

 This is very much like night terrors and lucid dreaming. I once had a terrible spate of night terrors, where I can sense somebody in the house coming to kill me, but I'm paralyzed. I can't move, I can't scream, I'm struggling to awaken so I can defend myself. When I do wake up... Nothing.
 It had gone on so long that I resolved to just trust that I'd be okay and let myself fall asleep... Which introduced me to my first lucid dream. I was asleep and dreaming, and fully aware that it was a dream. I soon came to *welcome* my night terrors because they would always lead to lucid dreams (which I soon learned I had total control over).

 So, too, shall it be with panic attacks and processing childhood trauma.
 

All,
 So... I just had my first therapy session today. It was kind of an emergency intervention to learn how to process my panic attacks in a healthy way. Apparently I'll be using this technique fairly often.
 She said she was impressed by how well I've adapted over the years, and that took me aback. "Did you hear the part where I said I never let *anyone* in my house, not even my own son or girlfriend"?? 
 Apparently there's worse avoidance out there. A *lot* worse.
 
 Anyway... She told me something that alarmed me: My inner critical voice and depression may return during this process. 

 I haven't had to deal with that for over thirty years. I'm back to fretting that this process is going to cause a lot of changes I'm not ready for.

Best,
-Slashy 

All,
 I promise I will try to be as vague as possible so as to avoid upsetting anyone unnecessarily.

 The definition of 'relational trauma'(IRT childhood induced cPTSD) is, at its broadest, *any* experience where a child's trust in their safety is undermined by an ostensible 'guardian' to the point where the child is in fear for their life and fears that there is no escape. It is the accumulation of these traumas without treatment over a long span that rewires the brain for survival instead of development.

 The current definition of what counts as a 'trauma' is *way* too narrow and rigidly defined IMO.
 Like a Chinese menu; "This" happened to you at the hands of your guardian. "That" happened to you at the hands of your guardian. Maybe a half dozen specific events.

 What about all the *rest* of it? All the stuff that *doesn't* fit into these neat boxes?
 What if the trauma happens at the hands of someone the guardian allowed into the environment? What if the trauma happened as a result of a situation the guardian permitted? What if the trauma happened to a sibling and the child witnessed it? Or even the guardian him/herself?

 It is *all* trauma. It *all* puts the child at risk for their life and in mortal fear. It *all* accumulates and it *all* leads the children to this point in the end.

 You see... *All* of this stuff happened to me throughout my childhood and more. Not just the conventional stuff, but all the *unconventional* permutations that ostensibly "don't count" as well.
 I would argue that it's all bad. If it leads you here, then here you are. 

Best,
-Slashy 
 

 I had absolutely terrible negative self-concept through my teenage years and up to 21. It drove my depression and suicide attempt at 21. It was constantly mocking and belittling me, telling me I was a loser, an abject failure, everyone would be better off without me, etc.

 It continued even after the attempt up until the birth of my son. I had decided at that point that no amount of counseling or medication was going to heal me, and I was going to take care of him no matter what.
 I threw all of it down a deep, dark hole and just went to work being a father. I found I was good at it and enjoyed it, and was soon acting as a 'big brother' for all the little fatherless kids in the housing project. And despite doing menial and sometimes dangerous jobs, I never felt like a failure ever again.

 That critical inner voice had gone completely silent. It hasn't troubled me for thirty years, neither has depression. 

 I'm not quite sure how that happened, but I suspect that it went away when I basically gave up on trying to fix myself and focused my frustration on helping others instead.

 Not recommending this as a course of action of course, just pointing out the observation.  Does anyone else have a similar experience, or is this just me?

Best,
-Slashy

 I'm posting this for a member who feels like the emotional abuse he was subjected to is somehow less 'valid' than other forms of abuse.

 I was subjected to all manner of CA you can think of, and probably a few you hadn't considered. One of the worst examples I can recall clearly is this story. I didn't black it out, I dissociated it.

 I would have been about 10 years old, bedridden with walking pneumonia. I remember how miserable I was, I could barely sit up, and a trip to the bathroom would make me dizzy and see spots. I'd just lay there, trying to rest, coughing up a seemingly endless supply of grossness.

 My mother decided that I had been in bed long enough. She came in and demanded that I go to the store and get her a pack of cigarettes. Kids used be able to do that back then...

 I was incredulous. Mom, I can't. I'm too sick.
 We argued back and forth, and eventually she got the belt.
 She began beating me at the front door because I wasn't getting dressed fast enough.
 As I crawled out the front door, she said "Don't come back without them".

 So I left on my 4 block trek, stopping at each stoop along the way to catch my breath.
 
 A neighbor found me some time later 2 blocks away, unconscious in the snow on the sidewalk. She wanted to take me home, but I insisted I couldn't go home without her cigarettes. So she drove me to the store and back to her house.

 My mother played it off like she didn't realize how sick I was.

 It was in that moment that I determined that I would *never* be able to forgive her. Passing out in the snow from lack of oxygen is a near-death experience.

 Never believe for one second that emotional abuse is somehow 'less' than other forms.

Best,
-Slashy

 All,
 This is all so new to me that I feel almost like I don't belong here. I only found out last week that I have cPTSD and it was only a month ago that I thought I had been living a relatively 'normal' life.

 I know *objectively* that this is silly given my history, symptoms, and comorbidities... But it's all so new to me right now that it doesn't feel quite 'real' yet.

 I don't know what questions to ask, what I need to talk about. I haven't even had my first therapy session yet.

 I'm very thankful that this forum exists and grateful that you all have been so kind and welcoming.

 Thanks,
-Slashy
 

All,
 Don't mind me, just rambling a bit...

 I cut all contact with my FoO 25 years ago, moved halfway across the country and never looked back. Then just last month I got excited because I'd found a picture of my father (biological father, not my mother's abusive boyfriend) online. All of our childhood pictures had been destroyed in a flood and my father's widow had estranged the entire family, so we had no pictures of him.

 I reestablished contact with the surviving family members to pass it on. Oddly, my baby sister was very interested in reestablishing a relationship with me. I was (and still am) very leery about this. I cut them all out for a reason.

 My baby sister and I were very close when young. We had all been sent to foster care when she was just a baby and her foster parents fought my mother for years for custody. By the time she returned to us, I had forgotten that I even had a little sister.

 She showed up at 4 years old. I was 6. She was deaf and had no friends. She latched onto me and I loved that. We were like the 'wonder twins' for 2 years or so. Life wasn't perfect by any stretch (our mother was abusive), but we loved each other.

 The following years weren't kind to any of us, especially not her. And she withdrew from me. Even though I was the only male in her life who was always kind to her, protective of her, and never abused her, she grew to hate me anyway for being a boy and developed a terrible personality. I always resented that.

 So when we reestablished contact, I was surprised that she wanted to reestablish a relationship with me. She seemed like she had really changed, so I proceeded with caution. We're like 2 porcupines trying to hug.

 She was the one that dropped that documentary on me that's disrupted my whole life. She didn't mean to; she had assumed that since she had been in therapy for cPTSD all those years that I had been too. I didn't even know what cPTSD *was*! I had been living in this mode for 30 years and thought I was "normal". I was totally unprepared for that.

 We communicate every day on Discord now for a couple hours. I'm hopeful and fearful at the same time.

Thanks for putting up with me,
-Slashy
 

All,
 Just like the rest of you,I am a survivor of a lot of really dark and horrible stuff. Honestly I shouldn't even be alive at this point, but I am anyway.

 Like someone escaping a shipwreck and going into survival mode on a desert island, I just did whatever I had to do to survive. It kept me alive, but also stranded me.
 
 All of the stuff that I do that people view as 'selfless' and 'altruistic' are really just expressions of my frustration at the fact that I don't know what to do to help myself. If I can help someone else in trouble *maybe* that will somehow show me a way home.

 Likewise, all of the "negative" habits I have developed are simply survival mechanisms. They are not "weakness", they are simply the most expedient way *I* have found to carry on until I can find something better.

 I'm not 'addicted' to anything at all (despite my FOO's best efforts to make me that way). I hate feeling like my perceptions and reality have been altered. Whenever they did that to me, I ran away and desperately tried to 'sleep it off'. I need to feel normal; like I'm in control and know what to do next.

 I drink approximately 9 beers every night. I've done it for 15 years or so. I don't do it because I'm "addicted" to being drunk (I hate being drunk), I do it because if I don't drink, I can't sleep.

 I have to sleep so I can carry on. Simple as.

 I cannot give this up until I find a healthier way to sleep at night. When I find that, I will stop, but not before.

 I am trapped on my island, just surviving one day at a time. I cannot be rescued until I am convinced that the rescue attempt won't result in my death. I have seen too many die in the attempt to trust others easily. But I really do hope to escape this.

Best,
-Slashy

 All,
 I only found out that I have cPTSD last week. I'm beginning therapy tomorrow and I'm worried about changes that may be demanded of me in the process.
 My GF of 15 years also has cPTSD from childhood trauma. It's actually why we get along so well. Our personalities mesh in a way that they simply wouldn't with 'normal' people.
 My fear is that I will be pressured to leave her behind, or I will change in some way that causes me to come to that conclusion.
 I *really* don't want to ever let her go.

 Is this gonna be a problem?
-Slashy

 All,
 I'm very new at this. Haven't even had my first therapy session yet, so please bear with me...

 I've spent my entire adult life avoidant/ dismissive, mistrustful, generally antisocial, avoiding conflict, and easily able to cut loose anyone who causes me problems and not look back.

 Am I weird for seeing these personality traits as a feature rather than a bug? I have very few close friends, but the few I have are awesome people. I have nobody in my life bringing me grief or drama. I *like* it this way.I feel happiest and most at-ease when completely isolated from humanity. I never get lonely, I *seek* solitude.

 I'm afraid that therapy will inevitably change or remove these personality traits. I honestly want to keep them.

 Thoughts? Is this a bad thing?

 Thanks,
-Slashy

 

 I'm so glad I'm not alone on this one. If my healing depended on forgiving my mother for all the terrible things that she did, then I'd have to accept the reality that I will just never be healed.
 
 What she did was simply unforgivable.
 
She's dead and gone. I do not miss her. I didn't attend her funeral.

 My sister did, and she got the ashes. As soon as she got home, she chucked them in the trash and said "She can go haunt a landfill". I applauded her for it. 

-Slashy

 Hi all,
 I've had maybe 5 panic attacks total in the last 25 years. I made the mistake of trying to piece together a timeline of my childhood; just what years I lived where. I was not successful and I didn't realize anything upsetting, but apparently that was a big mistake.

 That was Friday evening, and I've been having constant panic attacks ever since. 5 days running. Does anybody have any suggestions to help me get out of this mode?

 Thanks,
-Slashy

 I only found out that I have C-PTSD from childhood trauma last week. I'm 53. I'll try to keep it brief...

 My childhood was full of all the usual traumatic experiences. Also a few highly unusual ones just for variety. Domestic violence and all the different kinds of child abuse.

 I was first hospitalized when I was 14 years old. I had completely shut down. I couldn't sleep, couldn't eat, just curled up in the corner crying.

 That was 1985/86. They didn't know what C-PTSD was back then, so they treated me for depression. Of course, that didn't work.

 I was hospitalized twice as a young adult, once while in the service and once after my suicide attempt in 1992. Again, mis-diagnosed as depression, and the treatment only made it worse.

 I did the only thing I could do after that; I memory-holed my childhood, dissociated all the bad stuff I couldn't forget, and pressed on with life as best I could. I picked up with my wife and son, moved across the country, cut all ties with my family, and built new memories.

 Everything wasn't perfect, but it was at least manageable. There's just one problem: The domestic abuse in my family is chronicled in 2 books and a documentary, and I can never be free of them.

 The documentary popped up last month, and all the 'progress' I thought I had made is unravelling. I have to get this fixed at least to the point where I can cope with it.

 I don't know how *any* of this works, so I won't be giving any advice.

Best,
-Slashy