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Thanks, Unbroken1, for this article.

I can relate in a huge way to those expectations of finding the magic pathway leading straight to recovery. Followed by another set of dashed hopes, if not even worse flare-ups of feeling like it's all hopeless from the start. And then we start again. Go figure, as shouldn't we know better the futility of hope; and yet, we try again, anyway.

There are answers, neither as easy as they're made to sound or even that radically different from our failed protocols of coping. I don't know, my sense there is that the answer is that no, none of what happened can wholly provide the relief we'd like to imagine can be found. It's a rotten mess, sad and maddening. Yet I guess it's what survivors do, in order just to live.

I could ramble even further afield, and that in itself illustrates how frantic any search for healing can entail. Wear rugged hiking boots.

Thanks, though, for referencing this realistic overview of just how hard this really is.

Hi Hope67,

Safety first, as you say. Balanced by the desire to cautiously hold on, and utilize certain painful gems, as you call them, from these writings. After all, these recollections about the major bumps along the road to building a new outlook on life. And by achieving that, a little here and there, we do notice steps that help us with our own grief.

I also wade in, but as frequently pull back upon encountering some brutish recollections via reading others' tales. It takes a bit, but if I can endure these aftershocks to my memories, I've noticed at least a little bit of relief slides into my overall pained psyche. I don't want the pain again, yet these slight tracks into the troubles I hoped never to experience again in any form -- they can, even with difficulty; at least be glanced at.

It takes lots, though. So I admire your willingness to give these stories a careful, wary glance. Sometimes it can be jolting, and hopefully we're strong enough to at least wade in a bit. The forever temptation is to avoid it all; yet sometimes it does help to find a collective pull with others who've traveled through and out of the initial pain.

I admire the fortitude it takes to do this. As mentioned -- I try, give up, but usually tip-toe back, finding it's always somehow useful (though painful) to do so. It never seems to fully resolve any of my past hurts -- after all, all abuse is senseless to begin with; yet, as is often apparent on this forum -- we are not alone.

Master of my sea ... welcome 

I resonate very closely with your condition, plus your concerns and fears about coming forward. I felt that way; still do, to an extent, but after some years here have found my fears greatly diminished; in other words, I feel safer than I would in many other circumstances. Along with therapy and some other developments, I'm probably doing better than I have in several years, at least regarding my own place in life. Mind you, there's still so much healing, and that involves daily efforts to keep in mind.

One notable thing, is I'm extremely isolated, starting with my own residence in a very remote region; by choice, I must hasten to add. Despite that, I was able to practice vocations over the years which were quite social in nature. This helped but the urge to stay isolated for the most part still dominates, and I've learned to accept that while staying open to how  I can alter that somewhat. And one way has involved plugging into this site where and when I can -- even though here I'm still a bit withdrawn (old fears never die, it seems.

Whoa -- I didn't mean to invade your intro with so much per my own state of being. Mainly I just wanted to illustrate how this forum can become a part of your working efforts at recovery; as it has for me; in addition to many other approaches I've added to the mix I've preferred to call discovery -- finding a new life, basically.

Alright, here's hoping you find the support and understanding here you've been unable to come by in your other approaches.

Accepting, AND honouring, one's self, and heart, often comes at a point, like yours, where you've honestly tried to explain and demand explanations in return. If that reasonable expectation can't be honoured, then notion of any rudeness don't really matter.

I'm lucky enough not to have living people to deal with per my major traumas, except for a sister who occasionally tries to intrude with agendas of her own. I held off what I needed to say, mostly out of regard for her children, who weren't a part of the problem. At any rate, I also felt the SPACE you mention once I finally was able to try and honestly communicate the matter. I don't think she 'got it' fully but I felt the bigger space and freedom on my end, even so. Yes, it seemed risky, but now I can see it was my only option to fully clear where I was about the whole sorry mess. It's like subtracting what needed to happen from so dominating one's mind.

Okay, sorry for the little personal rant, but reading of your situation just seemed to jar some feelings.

May you continue the strides you've made towards building a new pattern for your life.

I can vouch for the ins/outs/ups/downs you are living with lately. Just when it can seem pointless we often can be nudged into a different feeling about it all.

My own similar experience of late involved what I thought was a great therapy session, coupled with a visit from a long-ago friend; but followed by a crash, complete with an unreasonable self-doubt and self-loathing ("don't deserve goodness," etc). Then a return to the upside today. Go figure? I've never been able to resolve this, other than the old reminders that cptsd is so deeply embedded it's hard to dislodge, especially in short order.

I hope your rebound and new sense of peace builds; maybe it's all like coursing the fields and venturing past new gates leading to a brighter horizon ahead. Hope so.

Validation and hope  -- congratulations for finding two of the essential keys to unlocking the mysteries you've been working so hard to open.

It'll never get easier, but as you've discovered, the after-effects are indeed worth it. Finding a therapist willing to be fully with and for you, and not off on some separate agenda, is also a great sign. And it's a tribute to your own fortitude that has brought you to this new horizon where yes, there is hope -- despite how bad it all once seemed.

The journey goes on, and I hope you will unearth more of the good stuff as you continue the journey.

Hey, Larry.

Your comment about not "doing much" brought up a thought as I read it -- that this work with ourselves is never really about what we "do", but what our "Being" is. Your being honest and kind to yourself goes way further than any doing might accomplish. Reflecting who you really are, being willing to be you, is what counts, no matter what the doing is meant to achieve.

What a great muse!

I tend to read prodigiously. My therapist refers to this as a form of eclectic Bibliotherapy, and being rather self-directed (though she has had many suggestions along the way) we've come to refer to my 'style' of bibliotherapy as 'Freelance', where I follow my heart's direction.

This doesn't involve lots of fiction, but when it does venture into that territory it can hit me big-time. Take the 1909 novel by Frances Hodgson Burnett --   The Secret Garden. The main storyline focuses on an orphaned girl -- Mary Lennox -- who was ignored and emotionally neglected by her parents before they both died in a cholera epidemic. My circumstances differ a little, but the emotional (and lots of other) abuses were over-the-top absurd and I felt like an orphan.

So I related to that sort of existence, when all seems meaningless and even somewhat absurd, with lots of sadness and feeling like all was hopeless. As the story developed, though, Mary discovers remnants of a secret garden which, like her, had been neglected, almost forgotten. Finding that and focusing her efforts into it, lovingly and with care, enabled Mary to find anew the hidden zest for life she carried in spite of her tragic background.

I saw my own life's trajectory much like that, and how my entire life was the 'garden' that gave me hope. So I thoroughly relate to those themes, which were also well presented in a 1975 BBC TV adaptation of the book. Many theatrical productions based on that story are still happening, as its themes run deep, apparently. I know it hit my heart big-time.

So that's an obvious example. Which, by the way, I latched onto via reading others on this forum who commented on the book, which led me to seek it out for myself and find it had a keen part to play in how I came to regard my own 'escape' from my own abusive past.

That said, while I've probably run into lots of characters in all my reads -- fiction and nonfiction, another huge influence and 'character' who influenced my outlook was Stan Laurel, a 1930's actor who starred with Oliver Hardy, the duo appearing in several episodes as "Laurel and Hardy". These were rerun while I was a kid in the 1950's-60's and their influence on me was enormous.

The scenario for many of the stories depicts Laurel as a supposedly 'innocent' and forlorn victim of Mr. Hardy's rather arrogant and 'smarty-pants' attitude vs. Stan's simpler takes on escapades the duo experienced. While Ollie was depicted as the 'smart' one, the tables were frequently, and masterfully, turned around by Stan (who actually wrote most of their material; touching on another element I love -- creativity).

Basically, Ollie ended up looking as the buffoon and not the haughty person he took himself to be. Aha -- cue me in! Stan was exactly the sort of person I felt comforted by, as I was surrounded by various narcissistic and abusive sorts that made no sense and who played me for a fool, much to their delight as they were my chief abusers (many were religious phonies I got to calling them the Gawdawfuls. My inspiration was Stan, who 'innocently' made Ollie into a pompous buffoon. I took his take and applied it to the Gawdawfuls, making them my buffoons (albeit I didn't dare tell 'em that  ).

That element of creative humour allowed me, I feel, to survive some of the worst experiences of those years.

My apologies if this seems a bit long, but I found it hard to nuance this very well. I'm sure there's many other examples I could draw on rattling in my memory, but those two characters -- Mary Lennox and Stan Laurel -- came immediately to mind.

  ... as you find further relief. We're with you.

There's the familiar saying: "one step at a time". I'm intrigued by your calculation of "one year at a time".

Then again, none of this is so much about accumulations of time or possessions or any of the other material measurements we use. It's about survival, quality of life, and inspiration to somehow continue the journey.

Thanks for your contributions to all of this. With your insightful inputs, this lifeboat is made stronger for the rest of the trip.

I hope this letter to yourself helps out. At least it promises to start you off in a more comfortable position regarding the challenges that might arise in such a fluid environment.

Many times we talk quite glibly about self-help, as if it's like water coming out of a tap. In fact, when one tries self-care it can instead seem like the line is broken or something, and the relief we seek just can't be forced out. So it takes gumption to enter the process, but then you've decided to risk trusting yourself with this message of encouragement.

Now you'll have your letter to remind you that it's okay not to have to always feel perfectly okay, including things that might have hurt you before. They don't have to, but of course it's still a troubling possibility. Still, you've decided to confront the fear upfront, which gives you even footing, because in the past it was usually fear that prevailed.

Again, all the best as you boldly move forward. 

Hope,

I can surely empathize with that double-edged contrasting feeling you mentioned, of humour and discomfort happening almost simultaneously. That visual image is a common theatrical symbol, to have one side showing a laughing jester, while directly opposite or flip side one sees a distressed, sad face. They can overlap and create emotional cross-currents.

Just thought I'd mention that -- being a former theatre person, I've seen that symbol frequently, and think it show how there can be overlap in all of these deep emotions.

If it's alright, I'd like to wish you well with the following symbol, and the thought behind it ----- 

Yes, I totally concur with the reverse side-effects that can arise from prancing through so many self-help titles. They've almost become such a broad category as to be nearly useless. It's kind of like other reading, though -- you don't know until you try out, or at least consider, a few ideas (or a lot).

I certainly know the triggering side, and am now very careful about diving in, as if these authors will truly tell me some grand notion I'm better off accessing via my heart-feelings. Then again, I'm a voracious reader, and would best characterize my reading as a form of "free lance bibliotherapy". There are actually therapists who use this approach; the difference with me is I generally pick out my own reads, and sometimes have several going on at once. Another advantage for me is I have lots of time.

I guess the best approach to it all is to always read with a note of skepticism, and to let one's own heart discern what seems useful or not. Many of us, having been subjected to all sorts of baloney in the first place, had our 'trouble detectors' built in, so to speak. So it can be a paradox -- having survived so much abuse is one thing, but if one can survive at all, perhaps the healthiest outcome is to have gone through so much hurt and disbelief that it stimulates the search for other ways. This might  starting with self-help reads, but can include many other genres, too.

These can become self-triggering if one isn't careful, though -- for me, that means keeping my skeptical antenna in place. Some of what is suggested might indeed be useful. But the skepticism acts like a valve keeping one's heart open to help make up one's own mind. In the end, this seems like the best 'self-help' -- coming from one's own self, while being selective regarding all the 'experts'. Which might, or might not, be helped by the avalanche of books labeled as self-help (many, of course, for marketing reasons).

In the end, what's helped the most, for me, has been to more highly regard authors like Pete Walker and Carolyn Spring, who have 'walked the talk' by striving to find their own path towards achieving at least a better sense of self-love and compassion. Even with these, though I keep my skepticism within reach. As someone else once said, "skepticism is a virtue."

Recently I was re-reading a favourite book of mine by deceased Canadian author Richar Wagamese, who lived an orphan-like existence as a child due to cptsd-like environments amongst several foster homes. But a favourite thing for him was to find old Ojibway Indian elders who'd tell him stories, many of which seemed incredibly simple, but which were often sage commentaries on how to live, even one filled with harsh setbacks.

One piece of advice he treasured was from a discussion about 'how to be strong' with an old Ojibway woman. She explained how she saw that what was called 'strength' wasn't what the lad thought.

She told him to : "...be soft, like the grass. You don't need to be hard, like others say. Hard things break. Soft things never do. Be like the grass. It gets stepped on and flattened but regains its shape again once the pressure passes. It is humble, accepting, and soft. That's what makes it strong!"

For me, that puts a lot into a new perspective, allowing space in which to reframe a lot of the hurt, bringing forth our natural resilience.

What? You haven't reached the hallowed halls of Valhalla as of yet? Me either, and the best days are when I don't even entertain the possibility of finding a smooth enough equilibrium that feels entirely safe and/or comfortable. If it does, just wait -- those floorboards will release yet another phobia, or two or more.

I never acquired a yen for money, at all; it just seemed like a tool used to grind people down. Didn't stop me from finding ways to develop and then share an outlook with many people. A core of them became dear friends and now, like you, they've drifted away from my vicinity, many via death. I wish I had the luxury of a partner, but that too eluded me. And somehow, in the midst of chaos from recovery and grief, I ended up with enough money to buy land and build a place.

The major goal was a non-goal (somehow I also surrendered lots of goals along the way) and I've done okay with it. Stop me, though, for going on about 'me'. I just use that to point out that you're neither alone nor helpless in these new, post-habitual, hints of a new life you are developing, consciously or not. May you find a steadier route, despite the setbacks and even while not being sure of where you're going. There may be a surprise, a good one, ahead if you stay the course called recovery, frustrating as it sometimes seems.

Wishing you the best road ahead