Messages

Chart,

I truly believe we are all in this together. I sometimes ask myself if it's a good or bad thing that I share my experiences with such detail to the entire world through my novels and this forum.

Feeling alone is what damaged me. My Complex PTSD is deeply rooted in feeling like the world was made up of two teams: Me on one team, and the entire population of earth on the other. I felt unwanted, disrespected, unworthy of love, and even that God himself hated me. That's the root of my pain.

To overshare is an impulse I can't hold back. I spent too many years hiding my life from the world. I can't bear keeping it all inside anymore. And when I am told that my sharing helped another soul, well that just proves to me, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that I am not alone. I can connect with others. And the connection itself is what matters.

We don't have to give each other advice if we don't feel like we can or should. Just acknowledging and validating each other is where the true healing happens in my own journey. I call my healing The Journey of a Thousand Steps. Each step matters as much as the other 999. And each relationship builds on the learning.

Even in a catastrophic event, having someone to share it with gives us the strength to grow and endure.

Chart, I hope you are able to get up out of bed today. A lot of people read your posts, and mine too. Most of them don't respond, and that's okay. I read a lot of posts that I also don't respond to, but I still learn from them. I learn from the people on this forum, and I try to give back with what I've learned. I think most of us do that.

Just know that you are influencing healing in your peers as you share it with us. And so am I. The fact that we don't know who is being affected, doesn't change the fact that others are affected by what we each do, whether we do good or not good. The butterfly affect is in play within us all. When pain or healing touches one of us, a ripple runs through all of us. You pull an apple off a tree, and other apples fall from the other side because the entire tree shook.

I can say that my daughter-in-law's grandmothers request that I officiate Bruce's funeral surprised me and made me realize that I never realized how much I meant to these people. It is also a learning lesson for me to be at my best anytime I'm interacting with anyone, because none of us truly know who we are influencing in either good or not so good ways. To each of us, our actions are watched by others. We don't always realize that we teach when we're just being who we are.

This forum, to me, is more of a team than a grouping. We help each other by sharing. We leverage eachothers' strengths for the good of all of us. WE are all focused on similar goals. We want to feel connected. We want to feel validated. We want to feel like we're not the only person on our team.  And by sharing, we are all helping each other.

I'm pulling for you!

Journal Entry for Saturday, February 22

I've gone through a lot these past few days. On Wednesday, my Daughter-in-Law, (DIL) called Coco and me to let us know that our son, S2, her husband, was off his meds and having a radical Mixed Episode of his Bipolar Disorder. We love DIL as much as we love our son. They have two children. Over the course of the past few weeks, S2's Bipolar episode had been building. In the world of BPD, there exist three types of episodes: Manic, Depressive and Mixed. Mixed is the most dangerous, as a person is manic and depressed simultaneously, and extremely prone to impulses. He drives a truck for work in heavy traffic. How easy to have a sudden impulse to jerk the wheel into a tree or another car?

After having lost S1, his older brother, to Schizophrenia, Coco and I just spent all day Thursday feeling completely lost. Both boys refuse medications. That's why S1 has gone no contact with us. THe voices in his head told him that we are dangerous and stupid. So he had to cut us out of his life. Anyone I know who has lost a child to Schizophrenia has experienced the phenomenon that the person with the disease became first afraid of the person who loved them most. That was us.

BPD progresses with age and progresses much faster when unmedicated. A psychiatrist and  medication are currently the only known way that we've learned how to help people with both mental disorders; Schizophrenia and Bipolar Disorder (BPD).

On Friday morning, I tried to tell some friends of mine the story, but I couldn't stop crying as I tried to tell how terrified I am that I will lose S2 as I'd lost S1, and after having seen how much pain S1 caused Coco, I found myself just sure that I'd lose her immediately after losing S2.

My friends kept a level head with me and told me to be careful not to let the pain from my past become the fear of my future. One particularly sensitive man gave me saying to lighten my mood and hopefully calm my fears. He said, "All the trouble I ever had, I never had. I borrowed it from the future." God bless this friend. He really cheered me up. Pretty soon I was laughing again at myself and not crying over fears of what MIGHT happen.

After the call I felt a bit better. But before I could process it, my DIL called me in hysterics. What Coco and I didn't know was that right after she'd called us on Wednesday night (in tears, crying over the condition of her husband), she got another call from her grandmother...the woman who'd raised her. DIL's grandfather, Bruce had been found unconscious and was now pronounced brain-dead. DIL's Grandmother begged her to come to the hospital and sit with her, because she and Grandfather had been true lovers, and she couldn't bear to sit alone with him. We didn't know this. We were curious as to why we hadn't heard anything on Thursday. DIL wasn't responding to texts. S2 wasn't either.

Then, at around noon on Friday I got a call from DIL. She explained where she'd been and how exhausted she was. I asked which hospital she was in and if she wanted me to come sit with her. She was okay she said. But a half hour later, the phone rang again. 12:30 PM Friday. DIL was in hysterics. I could hear alarms and people rushing around in the background. Today she says she remembers calling someone but can't remember who. I told her it was me. The call was because her grandmother had collapsed, and "coded." Then, about a dozen hospital staff rushed in and were in the process of putting her on a gurney to take her across the complex to the Emergency Room. That's the commotion I could hear in the background.

It took some work to get DIL to be able to tell me which hospital she was at. Poor kid was in hysterics. 36 hours without sleep or food after what she'd gone through with her husband's disease, and she was barely coherent enough to even know which hospital she was in. She finally was able to text me the hospital once she'd gatherer her wits. Meanwhile I called Coco home from work and we rushed off to the Hospital where this was all happening.

We knew the hospital well. Over the years we've lost a lot of friends and family, and often in that very building. BUT we found ourselves oddly lost as to how to find the West Parking Garage where we were to meet DIL upon arrival. It was some sort of auspicious event that we'd gotten lost, because it added 10 minutes to the time DIL could be in the room with her grandfather. As we finally found parking, and I was getting out of the car, Coco got a call from DIL. Her grandfather had just passed, and in a very beautiful and touching way. Apparently, the doctors came in to tell DIL and her aunts that Grandma was going to be okay. That she was stable and going in for tests. The very moment the doctors reported that she was okay, Grandpa woke up from his coma, opened his eyes. Closed his eyes and stopped breathing. No violent movements or shaking or death rattle. He just quietly went on when he knew his beloved was okay. And he actually passed with DIL and his daughter holding his hands.

If we had not gotten lost for 10 minutes, DIL would have been in the parking garage with us when he passed.

S2 wanted to be there, but has a job driving trucks and was far away, and unable to get there. He's thanked us many times for being there for her. We even drove her home in her own car because of heavy traffic, driving rain, and her being in an unsuitable condition to be driving.

Today, my Son, S2 is in very stable condition himself. He is his normal loving beautiful self. When S2 is not having BPD episodes, he's an extremely endearing and loving man. He's somehow settled back down to that condition again. I will have a long lunch with him tomorrow where I hope to help convince him that while he's not in his raging BPD episodes that he truly take seriously the need for medication and psychiatric maintenance.

Today, He called me. "Dad, I have a strange request for you." I said, "Go for it." He said, DIL's grandmother is asking me to ask you to officiate Bruce's funeral.

I felt so honored. I haven't seen these people in three years. I usually see them at birthday parties, and I did officiate DIL and S2's wedding. Grandmother said that Bruce really liked me and she did too. And they are not religious but they want my calm demeanor to lead their not-so-calm family through the grieving at the funeral. I couldn't say no.

Like most families, hers is fraught wtih the usual divisiveness, blame, narcissism, etc. Grandma is hoping I can smooth all that out while they are all together in one place.

I need to connect with my friends who yesterday told me to not let the past set me up to believe the future is just another disaster. I need to tell them that they were 100% right.

My son is committed to his family, and I believe I can help him get his health back into balance by convincing him to get reconnected with a psychiatrist and the right medication.

Coco and I are feeling much better today than we had in past days..

ON A VERY FUN NOTE: While the drama was still in play, and I was sitting with Coco in the Emergency Room while DIL and her aunts were telling Grandma that Bruce had died in her absence, I was thinking about the courage it takes to stay involved during triggering crisis's. The Emergency Room Lobby's TV was on. Sound was off, but Closed Caption was on. You'll NEVER guess what show was just starting. It was a children's learning show and the topic of the day was ALLIGATORS. I chuckled quietly under my breath and sent a thank you to the forces above us for showing me that I am not alone. My alligator soul was being acknowledged. But wait....EVEN FUNNIER, I stopped watching the TV as the less savory relatives started flowing in from the parking lot to pass by us as they headed back to see DIL and grandma, and I thought about how much courage it takes for all of us to deal with these warring family members. I looked back up at the TV just as the Closed Caption said, "Uh oh, looks like Jimmy is in trouble."  I Laughed out loud. My real name is Jimmy. (I'm laughing out loud just writing about it).

Anyway, I'm feeling settled and balanced today. I have friends to thank for helping me see that things weren't as bad as I was expecting.

I've been honored by being asked to lead the funeral, and I'm just like...full of warmth right now. Even in tradgedy I see love swelling up out of anger and dissention. A family is coming together to honor a very sweet and special man. I didn't know Bruce that well, but I always liked him. He was kind and just enjoyed his family. He and Grandmother had a very touching and loving friendship right to the end. He even made sure she was okay before he passed on.

MY Complex PTSD isn't being triggered. I feel like I'm helping, so I don't feel so alone as I usually do in crisis.  In the wake of a tragic situation, I feel like Love is there for anyone who wants it for their healing. I'm honored to be a part of it. My own family pushed me away as my parents were dying. Other people's families ask me to please come in and be a part of their events.

Resiliant,

We have a lot of trauma to unpack. Letting it unpack slowly, in measures that we can deal with at the moment is all we can do. The word Complex indicates that one thing is made up of many parts which lead to many other parts in a web of relationships. We have the butterfly effect living within ourselves. If you touch one part, all the other parts move too. You pull one apple off a tree and the whole tree shakes, maybe even causing other apples to fall unintentionally. It took decades to create the whole trauma web, which was many traumas building onto other traumas. And it takes time to unpack it carefully so as to relearn how life can be without it. It takes time.

I spent many years drinking to hide from the trauma. I used Alcoholics Anonymous and Alcohol rehab to finally quit. In AA, they teach and teach and teach that the goal is for progress, not perfection.  Progress is far, far more attainable than is perfection.

Many times, I felt like I had been in therapy long enough that I'm healed now. Yay! I'm healed. But then a week or a month or a year or two years would go by, and I'd be struck by another traumatic flashback and I'd be crushed. I began to believe I was incurable because I kept thinking I was cured, only to find out later I wasn't.

I was focused on a cure.

Now I'm focused on trying to accept one aspect of my trauma disorder at a time. I am paying more attention to the journey than the destination. It's nice. As I accept one little part of myself at a time, I get to feel a little bit better and more in control of my emotions and flashbacks with each tiny success.

I have finally come to accept that I will never be a person who wasn't abused. My past will never go away. But I CAN be happier today than I was a year ago. I can feel better and better with each treatment and each epiphanous moment as they come through.

Progress rather than perfection. Progress feels good in and of itself.

In his book, Letting Go: The Pathway of Surrender, Author David Hawkings recommends reminding ourselves to keep some sort of mental or physical record of our successes. He writes that as we heal from something this traumatic, that we tend to be focused on the shovelful we have in front of us but forget about the pile we've already thrown behind us.

My therapist keeps notes of my successes. Sometimes, when I'm complaining that I just can't get better, he literally lists off the successes I've had and reminds me of how much more unstable I used to be than I am now.

I call that, "keeping my successes in my back pocket" so I can take them out and look at them when I'm feeling defeated.

I'm happy to hear that you have a supportive husband. That's a big help. And I think you are doing a great thing for yourself by posting your situation where others who share in this complexity can respond and support.

I think you are wise to bring this question to the forum as well as your therapist. As far as therapists go, I read once that when we are supported by our superiors (I.e., our therapists or bosses or anyone who we see as an authority) that we gain some good feelings in one part of our brains. But when we are supported by our peers, it's a totally different part of the brain that gets supported. So it's good to do both. When our authorities support us, we feel one good feeling. But when our peers surround us and support us, we get a completely different benefit--community. It's good to do both; Get help from experts and get support from peers. Our healing progresses more completely when we cover both bases and feed both parts of the brain.

I'm pulling for you

StartingHealing,

I'm sorry to hear you're feeling uneasy, but I'm happy that you are expressing that feeling to the forum. Are you able to determine what triggered it? Or is it another one of those times that I am all too familiar with myself, that seem to come over you like a storm and all you can do it weather it until the sun comes back out?

My retrogrades in the spiral can be triggered by specific events. They can also be triggered by calendar dates, anniversaries of good or bad memories, or...sometimes, I just don't know what triggers them. Sometimes I just call it a storm that I have to weather until the sun comes back out.

No matter what, I'm glad you are being open about it.

I feel like the more we share with others, the less alone we are with our inner spirals.

You're not alone here.

I'm returning the wish for all the best for you too.

PC.

[Desert Flower]

Desert Flower, I'm happy that my post was a positive thrill for you to read. When anyone resonates with another, that's about feeling connection. I believe in my heart of hearts, that a feeling of not being connected to the people of this world is at the root of my Complex-PTSD, and that the only thing most of us truly want is to feel like we're not alone in our inner world or our outer world. You enjoying my post makes me feel connected with you, and not so alone.

NarcKiddo, you are right about this: My wife is very happy with the progress I'm making on the house. After posting yesterday about the drawer, she went off to work and I did sneak into a messy spare room where we keep our emergency supplies (in case of another COVID, or earthquake, or catastrophic event), and put in some shelves. I then cleaned up the pile and organized it onto the new shelves. My emotions were all over the map. Anger. Fear. Nervous about her reactions. I kept watching the clock to be sure I was done before she came home. To my relief, she came from home from work last night, saw it and said, "It looks GREAT!"

What the heck was I so worried about? That's a trick question with an obvious answer: Complex PTSD fits very well with that old sayings, "We have nothing to fear but fear itself" and, "I saw my enemy and it was me."

So far so good. Alligator is gently nudging me with moments of courage as I decide whether to take each next step and it's paying off. She's happier. I'm happier. Each small win is another step forward on my journey of a thousand steps to feeling inner peace.

IFS therapy is the best thing I've come across yet. Added to my MDMA experience and my Ketamine infusions (which simply open up the mind to help with changing neuroplasticity), IFS therapy is moving me up and out of the fear of my own fear.

It's a good day on my journey from there to where I want to be. I want to live my life feeling empowered to live in kindness for others as well as for myself. IFS therapy is all about not trying to eat the entire meal in one bite, but about learning to love myself one small part at a time. It's working!!!!! Momentum is beginning to build.

[It's my disconnection from his rage that contributes to my Complex PTSD]

Journal Entry: Tuesday, February 18

An update on the duo of IFS parts: Alligator & Dread. (Sounds like a TV show that would be seen on Nickelodeon, kids TV)

A week ago today I brought my constant state of Dread to my therapist. But while T was trying to gently coax my fearful IFS Dread part out to speak with us, I envisioned a full-sized Alligator come up out of my gut and lunge at T to make him stop. My body didn't lunge. My face and body remained in a calm, peaceful demeanor. It seems that my body was not connected to this fierce, raging alligator.  Today, 7 days later I recognize that the alligator is not part of my Complex PTSD. It's my disconnection from his rage that contributes to my Complex PTSD. It's not about the alligator; it's about the disconnection.

If the Google research is correct, and alligators symbolize repressed rage, then I can see how my body and face didn't show the alligator to T. I had to verbalize to  T what was happening inside my mind. That's disconnection. That's Complex PTSD.

One important thing I'm learning about IFS therapy is that our parts become progressively easier to access as we continue to participate in the therapy. It's literally about trust. My parts need to trust that if they come out and expose themselves to me, that I will respond favorably. Why would these parts risk exposure if I'm just going to stuff them back down and ignore them again? As I validate their existence AND their role on the team, and as I appreciate them, they become more trusting of me, and they start coming out more quickly. The therapy becomes more helpful as it continues.

I've had 7 days to live with the awareness of this Alligator's rage within me. For the first 6 days I was not sure what to do with it. But yesterday, I had a breakthrough in my own kitchen. I felt the Alligator come up and talk to me. Here's how it happened:

I was in the kitchen. I am reaching that place that Anias Nin talked about in her writing, "And the time came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom." ― Anaïs Nin.  The mess in the kitchen just can't continue. It's been YEARS that I've had to cook in a disorganized, cluttered mess. And yesterday I just couldn't take it anymore.

But my Complex PTSD includes being afraid of touching anything in the house because my wife's Autistic brain doesn't respond as easily to change as my emotional brain does.

My wife is a particularly loving soul. One of the best humans I've ever met. She never raises her voice to me, nor do I raise mine to her. When she's angry, she'll make some sarcastic side comments and then disconnect from me for a while, which ignites my deep fear of being abandoned again. It triggers my childhood agony of how Mom used to instruct the entire family to ignore me until I behaved how she wanted me to.  So, I'm afraid of her, not because she's frightening, but because I just don't want to be abandoned or invalidated by the person I love the most in life. Fear is fear. Any trigger can ignite the fear. And my mother didn't allow anyone to ever touch or move or change anything. Even my own bedroom was routinely searched. Anything I had written was read, no matter how personal. Anything I tried to keep, if she didn't see a reason for me to have it, she'd throw it away while I was at school. The house was hers. Nobody else's. We were all intruders. My friends were almost never allowed in. On the rare ocassions when they were allowed in, her anxiety would soar until they left. So, I have some residual fears that have made it difficult for me to enforce my need for organization in my own home today. That's Complex PTSD in all its glory.

My wife is autistic, and able to remember where she put stuff because her memory is photographic. Mine is emotional. We think differently. She doesn't need the kitchen to be organized because she remembers where she put stuff. I want all the measuring cups to be together. I want dishes to be together. I want pots and pans to be with other pots and pans. She's okay just putting things anywhere they fit and using her photographic memory to find them again later.

Yesterday I decided to find the courage to do a very small move.  One that wouldn't ignite her anxiety much. A baby step toward a long, arduous task of organizing my own home so I can find things too. I chose a drawer in the kitchen where I've been keeping my vitamins and medications. I emptied it. I put all my own stuff in a box for a later date to find a new place for. I scoured drawers and cabinets to find as many measuring cups and measuring spoons as I could, and put them all together in one drawer. I first told her I wanted to do this, and she immediately stiffened up. I could feel her anxiety trying to stop me. TRIGGER! That's what mom used to do. I made some benign comment that I could maybe hang them on hooks inside a cabinet door. She said "No." She doesn't like things hanging on the doors. So I figured she probably won't care if I use MY drawer to put OUR measuring cups and spoons in. It took about an hour. I knew we owned too many of these things, but I had no idea we had enough to fill an entire drawer. We buy more measuring spoons when we can't find the ones we bought last month. They're cheap. It's easier to buy more than find the ones we already have. We have A LOT of them.  Another downside to being chronically disorganized.

To cut to the end of the story, as soon as I had finished the one drawer, I felt like I'd accomplished the feat of a lifetime. My alligator rose up from my chest. He was smiling with pride. He shouted, "You did it!"

I was so proud of myself. I'd used his courage to push me past the point of giving up. My personal sense of accomplishment felt like that first moment of warm sunshine after a long, ugly winter. It was an inordinate sense of incredible joy from a minor accomplishment.

In conclusion: My alligator, which was born from 64 years of repressed rage is now offering to be my courage for those times when I'm ready to blossom from the bud.

He's helping me to devise a method of doing very small things to improve our organization. Repressed anger leads to crushing depression. Emotional Impotence. Total loss of power. Rather than finding common ground and moving forward in teamwork, repressed anger separates us into villains versus victims and stops healthy progress.

I can use my alligator to help me find that moment of courage that lets me continue to get what I need without throwing up my arms, cursing my life, hiding in my room, complaining about how unfair life is.

I plan to let this ONE drawer be my only kitchen alteration for this week. As my wife settles with the new normal, I'll think of what drawer I'll organize next week. I'll do ONLY one drawer of simple things, that bring great improvement at a time. The new location for our measuring cups/spoons is perfect. The drawer is one inch below the cooking surface we use to do most of our measuring. No more reaching up to high cupboards and sifting through containers trying not to cause a waterfall of kitchen items falling on us as we search for a 1/2 cup or a 1/4 teaspoon in a cluttered mess.

Each improvement will be small, and will make life easier. I will be respecting my wife's photographic memory, while improving my ability to find things. And Alligator will provide the courage to keep going until we are both happy.

It's small steps forward like this that are pulling me slowly away from my chronic depressions and trauma responses. Alligator turns out to be my friend. Dr. Schwartz is right; There are no bad parts.

L2N

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

Stussy,

I want to extend a very warm welcome to the forum.

To your question, yes. My story is too triggering for me to tell right now. But I can say that the smear campaigns by one of my own siblings destroyed me. I chose Full No Contact with the entire family in order to save myself.

I hope this forum gives you the support you need to deal with what your father is doing. It's happened to quite a few of the members here. My story might be one of the more gruesome, but it definitely proved to me that the damage that's done by covert coercion is as bad, or worse, than the damage done by the abuse that leave scars. People don't believe us when we try to tell them what's being done to us. No scars, no proof, no allies...no abuse. Right?

I used to say "I wish they'd hit me. At least I'd have proof."

But here, on the forum, we have allies. Lots of allies who know the damage done by these narcissistic lying, gossiping, controlling monsters. we can see each other's scars even if the outside world can't. The empathy here brings healing, even when the scars are invisible.

Zighy,

I send a very warm welcome to the forum! I'm glad you found this site. It's been a very good thing for me, I hope it is for you too.

A generic comment about anyone who has relatives who are trying to help.

I can't stop myself from recommending a very cautious disclosure. My experience was that even well-meaning relatives eventually reported back to my narcissistic abusers, who, in turn, used everything I said against me--out of context, and slightly altered to make sure they were gaslighting me through someone else.

In the end, if you feel compelled to open up to your aunt-in-law (If that's what we call a mom's sister-in-law), then maybe do so carefully. Be honest, but brief. You'll find out soon enough if she reports back and ends up becoming part of the problem.

Just be careful. Narcissists DO send out scouts.

[Armee,]

Journal entry: Sunday, February 16

It makes my heart happy to know that my journal is helpful. I try to never advise anyone--at least not very often. But I like to share what I'm experiencing, so that anyone who is wondering about IFS or MDMA or therapy, can read my own experience and decide for themselves if they resonate.

Armee, the ability to visualize is, as you say, just one way to connect with parts. I can feel them, hear them and sometimes see them. No matter how I connect, it's connection. That's awesome that your therapist learned from Dr. Schwartz about IFS parts. It's really helpful to have a qualified therapist helping teach us how to connect with our parts so as to help them.

Chart, I can say in ditto back to you. I learn from you also. I have admired your tenacious search for answers since the day you joined the forum. The saying holds true, Seek and you will find. Seeking comes first. It leads to finding.

Desert Flower, Secrets felt like my blood was poison to my organs. I lived in that poison with every breath for a very long time. As I age I just can't go back to that feeling of having poisonous, fear-filled blood coursing my veins and poisoning my organs. I can finally say that I've evolved to where I'd rather have people hate me for who I really am than love me for who I pretended to be. I embody the old quote: "And the time came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom." ― Anaïs Nin.

I began opening up carefully. I was 25 years of age when I told my parents an overview of what the church had done to me when I was 7. It would take another 25 years (and their passing) before I could truly open up to the world about ALL of what they'd done to me for the next seven years--and to open up about how much damage I endured as a result. I was never able to open up totally until after they'd died, and after I'd safely gone Full No Contact with the rest of the entire family. Not out of respect for them, but out of fear of them. I had begged them for help when I was 12. They told me not to bring my little problems to them to deal with. They forced me to stay in the abuse and to not talk about it. Being good Catholics meant more to them than being good parents. I can see now why I couldn't open up until after they were gone and no longer a threat. That's when my ability to be open found enough courage to do what I didn't have the courage to do when they were still a threat. So my courage did have it's limits. It's a lot easier to be courageous when the threat is gone.

Alligators

Yesterday I used Google's new AI information bot to search on the meaning of alligators in a dream or alligators in symbology. The common belief from several sources is that alligators represent threats, danger, and repressed emotions of rage and anger.

------TRIGGER WARNING:------ Disclosure of a very personal dream from childhood that still affects me today

Before I begin, I have one of those "I've never told anyone (except my therapist) this before but..." disclosures of my own: At the age of puberty, I had a 3-second-long dream that has always been stuck in my head as if I just had it last night: I was an alligator. My mother was an alligator. My vicious narcissistic sister was an alligator. If I was 14 at the time, then the evil sibling was 25. She was 11 years older than me. We were in a swamp. I was trying to crawl out of the swamp to escape the two of them. Just as my front half was on the beach, they caught up to me and castrated me with their mighty jaws and sharp teeth. My therapist is the only person I'd ever told this to before now, and he said it makes perfect sense. My mother and sister were both man-haters and I was a kind-hearted, easy to abuse boy. Somehow at age 14 I knew they had turned me into a worthless, pathetic, castrated male that would always be there to wash their cars and do whatever servant duties males are good for. We are tools. Mom and sis made sure that I knew that boys are gross. Tools. Something to laugh at. Something to be mortally ashamed of.

---------End of Trigger Warning ------------

From there, I go to seeing alligators inside me, attacking anyone who tries to convince me that I can be proud of who I am. If alligators represent repressed anger, then I can see why it lunged at my therapist for trying to help my little Dread boy. Anyway, I have a lot of meditating, praying, reading and talking with my therapist to do before I feel like i can fully respect what this alligator is doing for me and why. Dr. Schwartz teaches that there are no bad parts. Whatever this alligator inside me is doing, he's doing it to help me. With the help of my therapist, I hope to soon discover what this alligator's full role in my life is, and why my little Dread part is still living in the terror that I had lived in during most of my childhood and young adult life.

I'm very concerned about that suffering part of me who is terrified of the alligator and spends his entire existence hiding from it. I can feel the terror. As a boy my heart hurt all the time. I had bad headaches from my blood pressure always being in terror mode. My stomach ached all the time. I lived on Pepto Bismal antacids from the age of 9 until I moved out on my own at age 19.

Here's what I found in my first preliminary Google search about the meaning of alligators in dreams:

From Google AI:

In dreams, alligators often symbolize a hidden danger, powerful and potentially overwhelming forces in your life, repressed emotions that need to be addressed, or a need to be cautious about a situation that could become dangerous if not handled carefully; essentially, a warning to confront issues head-on rather than avoiding them. [1, 2, 3, 4]

Key interpretations of dreaming about alligators: [1, 2, 4]
•    Danger and threat: The most common interpretation, where the alligator represents a potential threat or someone or something in your life that could cause harm if not carefully navigated. [1, 2, 4]
•    Repressed emotions: Seeing an alligator can signify buried anger, aggression, or other strong emotions that are surfacing and need to be acknowledged. [1, 2, 5]
•    Overwhelming situations: If the alligator is large or aggressive, it could symbolize a situation in your life that feels overwhelming or out of control. [1, 2, 3]
•    Primal instincts: As a powerful predator, the alligator can represent your own primal instincts or the need to tap into your inner strength to face challenges. [1, 2, 3]
Specific dream scenarios and their meanings: [1, 2, 3]
•    Being chased by an alligator: This indicates a feeling of being pursued by a problem or fear that you are actively trying to avoid. [1, 2, 3]
•    Being bitten by an alligator: Represents a direct confrontation with a negative force or a situation that is causing significant emotional pain. [2, 4]
•    Killing an alligator: This could signify overcoming a major obstacle or successfully confronting a difficult situation. [1, 2, 3]
•    Watching an alligator from a distance: May symbolize a subconscious awareness of a potential threat that you are currently monitoring. [2, 4]
Important factors to consider when interpreting an alligator dream: [1, 2, 4]
•    Your emotional response in the dream: How did you feel when you saw the alligator? Fear, anxiety, or curiosity can provide important clues about the meaning. [1, 2, 4]
•    The setting of the dream: Where did you encounter the alligator? A swamp or murky water could signify a confusing or uncertain situation. [3, 5]
•    The alligator's behavior: Was it aggressive, passive, or seemingly indifferent? [1, 2, 3]

Generative AI is experimental.
[1] https://www.cosmopolitan.com/lifestyle/a39739058/dreams-about-alligators-meaning/
[2] https://www.thecut.com/article/dreams-about-alligators.html
[3] https://www.reddit.com/r/Dreams/comments/1cyh1no/alligators/
[4] https://www.tribuneindia.com/2003/20031123/spectrum/dream.htm
[5] https://www.reddit.com/r/Jung/comments/15n2eoq/alligator_dream/

WabiSabi,

Welcome to this community of healing CPTSD survivors. I spent many, many years in that same fear you described, afraid I was going to wake up and be in the abuse of my childhood again. I dreamt about having to return to Catholic school (where the abuse I took was horrific) Healing from long-term trauma in early life is a lifelong adventure in and of itself. As I've slooooowly begun to heal a bit from all that I went through, the nightmares of returning to the abuse seem to have finally stopped. But when you mentioned fearing you would wake up in the abuse again, I felt your words. I resonate. I validate. I respect what you've been dealing with.

I'm glad you found this forum. It's been a powerful healing tool for me. I hope it is one for you as well.

I agree with Kizzie.

I have been slowly recalling memories and my therapist has been instrumental in helping me do so safely and with meaning.

The general thought is that our memories are hidden from us for a reason. Our brains are helping us cope by hiding events that traumatized us once and could traumatize us again if they come out at the wrong time. A good therapist can help bring out memories in a safe manner and can help us cope with the trauma that comes out with the memory.

Journal Entry for Saturday, February 15

Of all the various therapies I've partaken in, MDMA + IFS Therapy seems to be helping me the most. The MDMA was just one 4-hour session in July last year, but I've been profoundly changed ever since. I would say that I had the experience that many articles have been written about by those who were changed after only one treatment. Cured? No. But changed for the better, yes. I understand that the goal in trauma therapy is progress rather than perfection, and MDMA certainly made a vast improvement on how I experience life. CPTSD is something that can't really be cured. A cure would mean I no longer have the past I had. But nothing can change my past. It was a traumatic past and I will always be a guy who came from a traumatic past. I'm just getting a little better at accepting it all.

IFS Therapy is unblending the gnarled-up wad of personalities that hide within my consciousness. As I meet each various part, I achieve a tiny bit more clarity about the mechanics of why I react to life in the myriad ways that I do.

In last week's therapy session, I met two parts that are, quite frankly, freaking me out.

I started by telling my therapist that I had a deep fear in me that I call dread. I wake up in dread a lot. Terrified of the world. Money. Relationships. Health. All these things that threaten my safety. My therapist (T) was in the room with me. He leaned in and very politely asked this dread part if we could talk together for a moment. But I was struggling to find this dread part. I could feel him but I couldn't see him. (I'm having epiphanies as I write this now. Writing is therapy for me. As I write this journal entry, I'm processing this and gaining a deeper understanding: I can see now why he wouldn't show us his face during session. He's been hiding for 60 years. He's really good at it. And hiding is the only thing he knows how to do). I was working to try and put a face to this frightened lad while T was talking to him, trying to coax him out with kindness and compassion when the unexpected happened. I felt and saw (envisioned) a full-sized alligator lunge at T from the region of my face and mouth. T and I were both surprised by this monster. We tried talking to it, but our hour was almost up, and we were only able to identify that this monster lives in me and is both helping me and terrifying me at the same time.

After living with this alligator and dread duo for a few days I've been able to move toward understanding them a little bit. I'm starting to see how they have been forging my reactions to trauma for the duration of my entire life. I put 2 and 2 together this morning and was able to see this: For years, I've defined my experience of life as the feeling that I'm living in a cage with a sleeping monster and that my greatest fear is that someone outside my cage will wake that monster up. I've felt like I have this secret that will annihilate me if it ever comes out. I hide from people who might "out me", or "wake up the monster that wants to kill me." My life has been dedicated to keeping a secret that has almost killed me many times. I believe it is because I hid my CSA so well that I have never lost my fear of being discovered. I truly believed my own family would kill me if they had known what I was going through. It seems that after the CSA ended, and most of my FOO has died of old age, I seem to have forgotten to stop feeling like I have to protect a secret that would have killed me back then. My IFS Part, Dread, along with my IFS part, Alligator, are relics from the past who didn't know the war is over and are still living in the secrets that ended 60 years ago. They're like those stories of Japanese soldiers found hiding in caves on pacific islands who were discovered years after WWII ended. They didn't know the war was over, so they remained in fight mode for years after they needed to.

Today, Saturday, on my own, without T's help, I'm working to forge a relationship with both this protective alligator and my own terrified part who has been living in my body with this alligator for 60 years. I'm aware that this post is a bit odd. Some might think I'm crazy, but I've learned that when a secret is making me miserable, the best way to stop being miserable is tell everyone the secret. When I open up and share the crazy that lives inside me, it sort of opens the cage door and lets that crazy leave me. I guess this must be what the old saying "The truth will set you free" means.

All those times I've written or talked about feeling like I'm in a cage with a monster was more literal than I had realized. There is a part living inside me who feels trapped with this monster and spends every hour of every day in dread. Some nights this Dread person must have free run of my entire mind because I wake up already in mortal terror. Like most people, I look for what is causing the dread, and I think I was wrong to do that. The dread is there because it's there. I blame money problems, health problems, losses of loved ones...but what if the dread is just dread and every time I try to identify the reason for the dread I'm actually distracting myself from it so I don't have to feel his terror with him? I become a fixer. Fixers are not helpers. They're usually causing more problems than they're solving. I end up being the fixer who tries to appease the dread by assigning blame. Well, money, health, war, climate change, these are stressors, but the dread is coming from a lifetime of living in shame that I wanted to hide from. If I go broke, get sick, need help, I'll be exposing my shame. Dread knows this. He feels a horror that I've never been able to fully grasp. I remember, as a child, feeling a horror so strong I couldn't bear it. All the time. That horror is still in me. And it's not because of money or health or relationships or climate change...it's because I didn't know the war was over and I'm still feeling that horror.

Most of my IFS parts come to me in visions and feelings. I can see what they look like. But this dread part has no visual presence. I feel him, but I can't see him. I suppose he's hiding. He's been hiding since 1965 from this alligator he shares my body with. After 60 years, he's gotten real good at hiding his face from me.

This is going to be a breakthrough; I can feel it. I'm only in the first stages of even beginning to understand this, but it feels like the most intense IFS part I've ever been able to finally identify. This is a symbiotic feeling of fear and protection. The boy who lives in terror all day long is trapped with the alligator that protects and terrifies him simultaneously.

Enough for now. Writing this out to people who will read it has opened me up to understanding it a bit better. Like it's turning on lights for the first time so I can finally see into the darkness that has been in torment for more than half a century.

Good will come from this. I'm letting this Dread part have his dread. For the first time in history, I'm not distracting or stuffing the emotions that this little IFS part represents. For the first time in his life, I'm respecting his terror. I'm feeling it with him. That's my message to this terrified prisoner within me: I feel you. I am terrified with you. You are not alone. I see you. I feel you. You are real. You deserve to feel how you feel. I respect all of it.

It seems to me that our IFS parts just want the same thing we want: To be seen, loved and respected. Period. So that's the goal of IFS Therapy: Unblend the parts, listen to them, validate them, and love them.

Good will come of this.

["I'd rather be happy than [any word here].]

Journal Entry for Friday, Valentines Day, February 14

I have been changing a lot as of late. I've been doing a lot of reading on neuroplasticity and adaptability. Darwin said that the most important thing for survival of a species is adaptability. Humans can adapt to almost anything. That's incredibly good news to those of us who wonder if we have the ability to change. Science says we do indeed have that ability. Science calls the change process "Neuroplasticity".

Adapting can be painful but necessary to survive in a world with so much change happening all the time. Adaptability seems to hinge on our ability to utilize neuroplasticity: the ability to forge new neuropathways and fade out old ones as needed. I've been learning from spiritual sources as well as scientific sources that neurons that fire together wire together. We do have some control over our thoughts. And we do still have a few tools available to us to change how we experience life.  That, for me, is the new understanding.

I believe that healing from CPTSD requires me to include physical healing, emotional healing, and spiritual healing all together like a team approach. Neuroplasticity covers all three aspects of my being. It is a scientific way to effect change in the brain; It is a behavioral way to break bad habits; and it's a spiritual way to connect with energies of peace and love and creativity while breaking free from the energies of fear and remorse and shame. Neuroplasticity covers the whole gambit and provides a holistic approach to healing.

I can't change the world, but I can change how I experience the world.

"People say that what we're all seeking is a meaning for life. I don't think that's what we're really seeking. I think that what we're seeking is an experience of being alive, so that our life experiences on the purely physical plane will have resonances with our own innermost being and reality, so that we actually feel the rapture of being alive."
― Joseph Campbell, The Power of Myth


An example of how a neuropathway changes over time, is when a person who always wears a watch decides to stop wearing one. For at least a month after taking off the watch that person will look at their wrist many times per day, expecting to see a watch, and instead seeing only a tan line. The person has to adapt to finding the time on their phone, or on a wall clock or dashboard in their car. Every single time the person looks at their tan line, the neuropathway that leads them from "What time is it?" to looking at the correct new clock, the old neuropathway degrades just a little bit more and a new one gets a tiny bit stronger. Do this enough, and eventually the tan line fades and so does the habit of looking for it in the old location.

The scientific process for how to intentionally design and forge a new neuropathway requires a period of time with singular focus. For a brief period of time, a person should find a way to focus intently on the new location they want to travel to through their brain's web of neuro-connectors.

I've been finding ways to focus on designing a new location for where my neuropathways will lead my thoughts. I repeat some mantras on a regular basis. The more I repeat them, and believe them, the stronger my new neuropathways become as the weaker old ones fade. Here are some examples of mantras I say out loud so that my ears hear them repeatedly:

--"I'd rather be happy than [any word here]." This reminds me that my happiness isn't dependent on the world around me, nor on what I have or where I am, but that I can have a feeling joy no matter what is happening around me. It also reminds me that I still have at least some control over my ability to find happiness no matter the situation. In the science of Happiness, it's been noted by pretty much every source I've ever read up on, that the happiest places on earth can also be some of the poorest places on earth. People who have almost nothing have each other. And when people have each other, new cars and easy jobs aren't needed for happiness.

--I used to pray for God to fix my problems, Now I pray for God to teach me how to fix my own problems. This is working very well for me at this time in life. I'm starting to find wisdom that helps me get through my emotional traumas. Somehow, it changes my stance from sitting back waiting for the world to change, to stepping up and implementing my own changes on my own terms.

--I used to pray for peace on earth, but now I pray for myself to live in the energy of peace even while the chaos of the physical world continues to swirl.

--God lives in me as me. This reminds me that if I believe we are all connected, then I want to believe in that connection 24 hours a day, not just when the subject comes up in conversation. (This ability to know with every thought that we're all connected is called living in a state of reverence.) It reminds me that how I relate to others matters. Big time. If I'm kind to others, I'm kind to the whole of all life. If I'm cruel or dismissive of others, I'm dismissive of our connection as a whole. If I can continue to strengthen this thought trail, I will become better and better at rapid forgiveness of others. It really doesn't matter to those people whether I forgive them. It matters to me. I want to live in a human body that isn't full of anger and fear and resentment, so as I forgive others, I get to live in a body that is filled with compassion and forgiveness.  (I still have a lot of single focus and repetition to do to make this last one as real as I want it to be).

--Do the best you can until you know better. When you know better, do better. (Maya Angelou) This quote gives me permission to forgive myself for who I used to be. If I say it enough, I start to feel some freedom from my own past mistakes.

These mantras are a way for me to bombard my brain with repeatedly good thoughts so as to eventually turn the tide toward being happy rather than afraid.

The process for utilizing neuroplasticity to our benefit is pretty much 1) single focus + 2) repetition. Single focus not on what I want to lose, but on what I want to gain.

I want to become kinder. I still feel frustration and anger at those who intentionally hurt others. I had to stop watching any news of any kind because I get too caught up in wanting to hate the people who are creating all the news: The car thieves, the crooked politicians, the racist cops...I get these nasty images stuck in my head, which then serves to strengthen an old neuropathway that I'm trying to let dry up and blow away. So I purposely try to avoid what I don't want to put in my head. I read or watch happy things as a way of training my neuropathways to take me to a new place after an old trigger.

I have a ways to go, but the journey of a thousand steps starts with the first one. It feels good to be connecting more with what I want to become while letting go of what I feel I was forced to be by a narcissistic and abusive upbringing.

It's not easy or quick, but I think it is doable if I can just patiently continue to bombard my brain with new expectations.

And learning that life is about experiencing it has made a huge change in how I perceive my role on the earth. If God is living in me as me, then I want to give God the experience of what it feels like to go from where I was to where I want to be.

I want to stop just living my life, to experiencing it. What does it feel like to be who and where I am right now?

The truth is I'd rather be happy than [any word here].