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Thanks for posting this and the other resources you've pointed out, BeHea1thy. The internet is so awash in this/that/other nowadays it makes for tricky navigating to find what really holds promise.

I've been quite attracted to the different people now focusing on the acceptance approach. It seems to combine practicality with hope while also tamping down the expectations that challenge credulity.

My biggest stumbling block is finding self-acceptance, by far, the "if-I'd-only-done-this-or-known-that" game. It's like looking over, seeing the vast canyon yet to cross (complete with rickety swinging bridges!), then glancing back at the graveyard of lost illusions, finally taking that deep breath, and then...

Huzzah! and Kudos!     

You said it so beautifully, and it bears repeating: "I have a feeling of empowerment that I cannot describe. My inner child is heard. Her voice is important, and deserves to be heard."

Thank you for sharing this ray of 

The specifics of what constitutes triggering can be pretty broad, plus it's very individual and hard to pinpoint every trigger over a varied community like this. According to this site's glossary, triggering can stem from "small, insignificant or minor actions, statements or events that produce a dramatic or inappropriate response." That's a lot of ground to cover.

Viewed from that perspective, lots of encounters produce triggers. The most innocent reference can set off the EF/trigger node. I've had days where it seemed like triggers kept coming and wouldn't stop. Recently I was in a horrid state when someone I met resembled in every way--looks, manners, voice, everything--someone who'd abused me. I had to get away, fast; and felt awful the rest of the day.

Some religious terms, to me, can be more triggering than the foulest profanity would ever be; and for others, the same words would be seen in a very positive light.  I cringe when I hear certain terms which the speaker considers quite meaningful to them but are very scary to my sensitivity. I associate the words with some of the darkest memories I have; of people who perverted those very words into horrific abuse. They sometimes hid behind the very language use I'm referring to.

It's not that anyone should refrain from them for my sake. They don't know what's going on when I hear them, that I flashback hearing certain terms. Nor should I expect that they'd understand. I've learned it can easily happen, but what  rankles is if they cross my boundary and belittle or invalidate my feelings. I have scars which still ride close to the surface.

Which doesn't cover the profanity issue, per se. Personally, I am a bit put off by some of it if used excessively, but I also had a front-row seat to the hypocrites of my past whose actions were more obscene than the foulest words imaginable. Once I became a trickster, I especially enjoyed one scenario which caused a certain holier-than-thou teacher to slip and hear him utter the most vile language you'll ever run across.

Living in my backwoods area, it's often hard to find many ordinary conversations where profanity doesn't crop up as an acceptable part of everyday speech. It could be called the macho/backwoods dialect. Personally, I find it unfortunate but it's not hard to find examples--I used to work in a preschool program, and you'd hear 4 year-old bat that stuff around.

So I'm drifting away from the issue at hand--on this site, civility is a prime necessity. Seems reasonable, until our inner selves cry out in anger and pain. It's hard not to as we're reacting to people who made no attempt to be civil, would spite any notions of decency, whether it involved language or not. So it's understandable when and where it might pop out; but I also acknowledge that guidelines might reinforce the common sense we strive for.

So it's kind of a fine line. This site does have the trigger alert system and now the language advisory. The anger factor always, and often needs to, come into play when we've been through the firestorm of emotional upheaval. I can go either way, having heard it all in daily life, fom some 4-yr-olds even, but see the sense of what's been decided about certain over-the-top expressions. We know 'em, but probably don't need to see them graphically presented here either.   

Well, I guess the obvious "after" EF for me is to retreat. I'm definitely what Walker calls a Freeze and I've taken the retreat idea further than many. On the other hand, I really needed this way of life--it eases the mind, and I guess looking back I had an awful lot to ease. My recovery mode has been geared towards finding peace at all costs. I found the peace although the ghosts of my cptsd past came right along, it seems. 

I made retreating pretty convenient--I live in one. Home is a hand-hewn house I built 30 years ago in the woods. There's people around, but just as many if not more deer, bears, and eagles. I'm also in an area conducive to hiking, biking, etc.

Actually, my primary work was connected to those sorts of activities. So while I probably sound like a far-off hermit, all my paid jobs were with and about people--but I had my retreat, as home. I didn't grow up this way, but I desperately needed the peace it affords and was lucky to find it.

Being a voracious reader, but far from an actual public library--okay, the retreat became a retreat/library. And with so many books (great insulators, btw) and daydreams at hand, Mr. Walker's assessment of Freezers sure shows...except he says we love watching TV; I don't own one.

So the third piece is music--very folk-oriented, with my favorite genre being the more traditional types of what's called Celtic. These days it's mostly listening, but I used to play at house-concerts, and helped start a folk festival a couple of years ago (which produced huge EF issues for me, though). You know--people (sigh).

I do miss having wood heat--chopping wood can be quite therapeutic in dealing with EFs and triggers. And I still love firing up a sauna in combo with the other methods.

I like to journal as well, but have to watch out--my IC likes to take over and critique me, and it's scary how I come out being so hard on myself; reading them, especially the years ago entries, one would think it was someone else writing a scathing laundry list of how I'll never get life right. So much for the peace when that stuff hits. Then again, I do have my 9-yr.-old cat Mystic, and used to have 3 husky dogs and a pair of other cats who lived to the age of 20.

I guess one could say my whole life is one big EF getaway. Probably is; good and bad. Obviously nothing seals one away from the pain of the journey so far, but what I described here is what and where I needed to find at least a taste of the peace I craved.

On all our journeys there come times when the essential "you" part needs to be rescued from its hiding spot. Recognizing that is step 1, and the rest will come, perhaps with trepidation and fear; but finding that "you" part and recognizing that its survival is at stake needs to be honoured.

Wishing you the best!

Yes, paperwork drives me nuts...I see where it's helpful sometimes, so okay, I get it, but a lot seems to get redundant. And I actually was an administrator myself once (groan) but did it anyway 'cause the other rewards (artistic organization) outweighed the hazards.

But what really freaked me was the last few times I did therapy. "On a scale of 1-10 how do you feel", etc.  . The worst was when the T used that to take up half the session. I don't know, it was only the last bunch that did that, too.

I'm fortunate to live a bit below most radar regarding paperwork in other areas, but the T was the worst; nothing like showing up prepared to try and get a handle on things and you leave wondering what/who/why was that all about.

Your experience both saddens and angers.

Sad/angry is totally inadequate. Despicable is better. There are no more words worth wasting on them, though. All that matter are that you take good care of yourself now and know that you did what you needed to and are supported.

You wrote "what is wrong with me?" Everything is right, and no, I don't say that to be hip to what's going on. I'm anything but hip, it just aches to feel this with you.

I'm on enough asthma meds (albeit mostly "natural") that I don't want to risk interactions with others, but sleeplessness often hits me as hard as I hit the bed, exhausted. Exhausted but I can't sleep 'cause the stuff invades my memory or something and haunts my every movement.

So what's right with what's going on with you? First thing for sure--the only "wrongness" is the property of your abusers--they're the wrong part of what you related.   

But now it's about you--and your strength to overcome is something you've just shown here by your sharing. It's the most beautiful kind of strength--it's not about power, or control, or putting others in their place. It's only about your true strength, even if it seems there's no "why" to explain anything that matters.

I'm way too wordy...but let me leave you with a word-picture I kind of tuck in my heart somewhere for when I need a little boost. Okay? So I've camped a bit, and used to have a candle lantern, it's called. It's tin, with a door in which you place the candle. There's tiny piercings all around, so even when the door is shut and the wind is howling outside, air can get in to keep the candle going. So when you need it, and open the door, you've got light.

Please, light your candle, tuck it inside, and know it's always there, as in fact you are that candle. 

Your post is very touching, Vrizzy. The rawness, the feelings, the painful, awkward, and beautiful process of speaking what needs saying. But you've never found a voice for it, and it's scary to try. But you have finally...Congratulations    , and thanks. Your expressions have helped me, and I appreciate that.

You wrote: "I've read the causes post and it did not mention  bullying or social neglect by peers to be a possible cause..."
I was also bullied by peers. What made it truly awful is they were egged on by teachers who seemed to enjoy that power to shame and humiliate. Part of it was an idealistic streak I had; I really wanted to learn, despite already having had truly horrid home experiences, and the other kids were just, well, there as it was something you do. So yes, bullying was definitely a part of what is known as cptsd in my experience.

You also wrote: "Can these cause C-PTSD especially on someone who already has abandonment issues? And by cumulative events do they mean events happening the same year, Evert year, or can there be years in between events?"
For sure...I had severe abandonment issues that have led to EF's and triggers decades later.

Just last year I encountered a person so like one of my previous teachers that I had everything to do to get out and stay away. Others who knew of this wondered how I could "over-react" as they called it. I'm actually steeling myself for the possibility I may well have to see this person soon for a project I'm working on. I'm going to need lots to get me there and through, I know.

Once I thought I was on pretty clear ground in a previous career move, and ran smack into the same situation. Details don't matter so much as to relate that it's no exaggeration the debilitating and repetitive nature of these scenarios. And the draining work to make sense of any of it or derive comfort from it, to even recognize a path out it becomes so hopeless.

Please—I'm not saying that to discourage but en-COURAGE.
It's all so different from what "normal" people seem to be. Makes other people seem unreal, better than I am. The theme you chose to title this with--confusion and unanswered questions--is an apt description of what we're left with.

Sometimes the hardest thing to learn is we really are doing the best we can. We want it so bad. The why is the worst and for me always was the one that really had no answer. You also wrote:

"I can't always word things correctly and sometimes get scared to ask if they'll abandon me outright because I've heard that people will leave if you ask them that too much."
My tendency at that point has been to give up, retreat to my okay but LONELY world. The self-message is pushed back to "someday I'll get this," but the fear is maybe I won't, maybe I can't, maybe all those people who called me an idiot were right. I'm sick of it.

You mentioned this: "I'm slightly tired so my brain isn't working the best at the moment." Yes—the strain does that. Take care as you venture with this, Vrizzy. I literally shook when I joined this site, and found that people cared (!?!). About me? Still confusing, but there's some friendly people in this room, and it's mysterious, and it's nice.

Oh...my...as in, wow!  Thank you so much for sharing him.

He's a sure ringer for my own cat, Mystic (now 9 yrs. old). The colour, the fur, eyes, ears--it's him. Had to look twice, then again, once more, and he's darling, just like my little guy.

Thank you! Mystic sends this for Lucky and I have one for you:       

Once upon a time, I learned this – Love hurts; trust destroys. And then...I ran away. [***trigger possibilities, mostly early**]

I was in my mid-teens. What caused me to run was surreal —something, spirit maybe (?), overtook my entire being. Whatever it was, I'm forever grateful it did. 

[***Possible Triggers ahead***] My earliest memories involve too many sexual/emotional molestations from the m, abandonment by the f, and a feeling I was never wanted to begin with. The only time the m smiled in my presence was after her "visits", usually in bathrooms. She finally stopped  when I was 9, I think because the f caught on. Other highly emotional stuff is in there, but too much grief for me to relate.     

I was sent off to a quasi-religious school where I was molested by teachers in grades K, 3 & 4, and regularly beaten and shamed into their violent version of life, oddly strewn with love words.

I also became severely asthmatic, and many nights were spent plopped in the chair set out for me, left alone while the f scurried back to the roost if the meds kicked in. The m? No, she left all med stuff to the f. No teddy, no storybooks, nothing, no loving anything the rest of the night. 

Typical. So when the high school years rolled around, it was "well, where you gonna go?" Stupidly I picked a school run by the same folks as the earlier den of horrors—all I can say is that my adolescent mind figured they told me they had truth, and I thought they must have answers to life and that, being older, I'd learn the secret. My guilt for that early teen decision has haunted me endlessly. Only in recent years have I forgiven myself (forgive them? NO  ). I realized I was innocent, not only in years but in naivete; I've even read where this is true of some people trapped in dark situations, where they fear the unknown more than what they've come to know, bad as it is.

High school turned sour quick, with its message of "adopt our beliefs; start by hating those not like us, then hate yourself, you're no good."  Mentoring? They didn't even have counselors. There was one really good English teacher, but he was gone within a year.

I couldn't make friends anymore; it was odd, as my peers were sent there, but I'd actually chosen that *-hole! Those answers I thought were just around the corner? Nah. I did learn some things: I had a front row seat to bigotry, hatred, false values, and universal bullying. The only "values" I truly learned were: Love hurts and trust destroys you.

It took a long bus ride to get there—the place was suburban, and I lived in the city. So one morning, arriving at the school,  ... it felt like I was in a cloud, driven to just leave.No plans, the what-might-happen list, etc., just a knowingness to get out. It's like I blanked out but I was definitely conscious. So I just reversed course, at the door--turned around, started walking, passing all sorts of incoming staff, pupils, and other arrivals.

Several kids told me later they'd seen me, as did everyone, it seemed; yet no one stopped to ask what was going on, where I was off to, any of that—fairly typical for that den of trained dolts not to notice a zombie cruising by. Or care. Don't ask, don't tell (or be afraid to tell?). This was a school where everyone was spoonfed the "good samaritan" story...you know-helping?. Yeah, right.

Out on the street strangers, who did apparently find me odd, asked if I was going to another nearby school. Nope, I repied, and just plodded on—all that registered was I'm going...someplace.

The trek ended at home, an 18-mile hike by an asthmatic, which prompted the usual parental "ho-hum it's the kid" scenario; "well, think about going back tomorrow". I just holed up in a secret attic room, with my own pile of books around me, and a nice window to dream the day away.

I did go back the next day. And they were the same ("umm, where'd ya go? Oh."), and I was even deemed not worth beating anymore, I guess...truly a lost cause, so that was a plus. Know what? I'm soooooooooo proud that however that day happened, somehow there was a spirit that got me there, that pushed me back out the door...and maybe the message was that there really was a me to be found, and like, and be...myself, 'cause in the end that was all I had left.

There were still dark times, per usual; interestingly, though, I reversed course in other ways; my sense of humour emerged big-time from its hiding spot, I aced all the courses the "good" kids couldn't come close to matching and which literally horrified the faculty.  Except I made a point of failing the required religion stuff, got suspended a bunch, again to my delight and their horror. Now I had a different script, and I liked this play better.

Sorry this took so many words—I just wanted to share the discovery that sometimes there are unexplained events  that may help us turn the corner. I have more faith in that than the faith they tried to beat into me.

My cptsd repercussions are still huge...many days are still just one succession of triggers and EF's. And I know I'm a Freezer—I still carry that lesson of love hurts, trust destroys. Overcoming that may at last be the real destination I was headed for that day. Still traveling. Thanks for listening.

Lurking is probably more the norm here, actually; as the what/who/why of one's experience is hard enough. It's like a shock, and words to describe it are often very triggering as well.

When there's enough courage to venture a glance at what's here, one realizes there's a lot of oomph to the content. And a lot of tears behind the words, too.

It's pretty natural not to want to say much. This is raw emotion, and we live in a world that frowns on its expression. It's scary beyond words--which is exactly the fear I'm referring to.

Do I open that door and risk? Speaking for myself, I'm petrified I'll be judged; it was instilled early. The beauty here is that you can find a voice--there's no judgement that sets you apart as a bad person if you don't want to share, or it's just too awkward, or you stumble. It's a safe haven to visit when you can, or just want to, or have a pressing issue you need to check out--you can come when you need to, and your own experience is valued in turn.

Welcome. 

First and foremost, Dutch Uncle: GOOD LUCK! 

At least it's on a sight-seeing boat--ready diversions, maybe, to settle the nerves.

I admire your work  to uncover the ins/outs of the past, but it's probably key for you now to focus on maximizing your self-care/self-love; in the end, it's all you can do, and as much as you've struggled with this, it seems you're doing well; it's a hard nut to crack.

Look who's talking, though. I've no idea what it must be like to deal with FOO matters in person, being as I ran from "my" origins what seems eons ago. Alas, my EF/trigger patterns and extreme dissociation sadly stem from that history and I never "just got over" it. Not that anybody does, it seems.

So I hope your day goes well...relax, and know you do have all the best wishes for a grand excursion. Take good care 
                                   

In order not to be repetitive, I'm responding to both the threads you posted today via this solo observation.

Boy, do I agree on how pesky those triggers/EF's can be some days. Once I wondered if they were that bad for everyone. After being on this site, now I know how prevalent that feeling truly is.

Okay, a couple things pop out, and if they don't make sense, they won't make sense--but in this realm of cptsd et al, nothing makes sense anyway. So I'll just pop.

Many times I notice, and know, the desperate pull to find "the way out of this" or however we choose to say it. Well, maybe yes, maybe no, but I'm wondering if the better way out isn't really THE way, but just YOUR way. That there's a way, and it may not be perfect, might not be THE way, but it's YOUR way. More messy process than clear destination, with lots of stumbles en route. 

Part of your way appears to be helped by that support network that you have created, ranging from your boyfriend's empathy to your T to your acting teacher's encouragement and by sharing here. I didn't have any support network, but more because I avoided it. My Inner Critic can point fingers at me for that, but I only did my best. I had no idea how this cptsd story of mine would cycle back around and hit me again later. The support network wasn't there when I ran into the roadblocks. My mistake; guess it was part of my way, sadly.

I have an old book called "Taming the Gremlin" and it proposes that one way to deal with the inner critic/gremlin was to "play with options". It didn't suggest there was a perfect or sure method or technique, but just to play with the options you have or have created. But it's so serious, and it seems so hopeless, and these maddening triggers are all over. Yes, they are, but looking around for those options to play with helped me realize it was, indeed, my way. Maybe it can be part of yours. Not perfect, or is it?

That is so frustrating, it's a loop that's hard to fix...it took me years to get any handle on it, and it'll still flair up anyway. I know I'm also running contrary to some notions of how I'm "supposed" to live (e.g. no pets; I've had oodles of big furry dogs and presently a fluffy cat...all no-nos but my peace quotient with them outdoes my anxiety without 'em, so they win, and I try to figure my asthma approach around that).

Anything to reduce the anxiety/stress, though, is probably the best starting point. I have no experience with yoga, but it can be helpful, I've read. My best self-treatment might just be living a very low stress existence far from the madding crowd, but that doesn't sound feasible given your situation with school coming up and, primarily, how recent it's been since you've ventured away from your family stuff. It really does take time, and each of us would like to get going NOW, and it truly hurts when the roadblocks are not just mental, but physical as well.

Remember, though, that little saying I mentioned? Love-inbreath/peace-outbreath, and vice-versa. I hope it doesn't seem silly; it did when I started it, and I often forget it in social situations. I've no idea if it ever directly affects the breathing, but just the words, without judging them, helps to "tone" and settle things, for me.

The inhaler conundrum is puzzling, as certainly it seems like you should have some recourse other than emergency rooms. The interactions with other drugs may be a factor as well.  And while I'm pretty much old hat with my own stuff, I'd never venture to get into drug opinions via this medium, much as I want to help any way I can.

Perhaps your T has some other clients or colleagues who've had the same problems, and maybe that's someone else you could consider asking.

I wish I had the sure remedy, but the physical issues can be as goofy to get a handle on as the emotional ones, let alone how they play on each other.b Unfortunately, much medical training covers only the physical, and we're left to slog through the emotional mud as best we can if their potions don't do the trick. It isn't perfect; but we're still trying.

May you find peace with this.