Recent posts
#1
Recovery Journals / Re: Living As All of Me
Last post by HannahOne - Today at 09:06:58 PMWhiskers.
How to feel along the edges. How to know the boundaries. Can I fit? Is there space for me? How to scan, read the room. What is coming near?
The light catches Frank's whiskers like a halo. He moves his muzzle and they quiver. They pick up the airstream, the bunching up of air molecules that indicates the leg of the chair, the vibration of the dog's feet on the wood floor on the other side of the house. He walks foot by foot to the edge of the couch, sticks his head under. His whiskers feel along the edges. Will his rotund hind end fit through? He backs up. Sits up, whiskers vibrating. No more dog footsteps. Just the breeze from the ceiling fan, the clump of air at the leg of the chair. And me, my breathing. He twitches his whiskers to double check. He lowers himself, loafs. All quiet now.
And my whiskers? I feel I've been given a whisker-ectomy. I can't always feel who is near, who is coming, the size of an opening in life and if I can or cannot fit through. Instinctual decisions don't come instinctually. Instead, I start thinking. Did she mean what she said? What did she mean? She didn't mean that. She said something opposite before. But what if she did mean it? How can I know? I'm overthinking it. No I'm not! She must have meant something else....And round and round and round...
Frank sits up, alarmed. TOO LOUD, he says. TOO MUCH THINKING.
Sorry Frank. I am cluttering the air with mental noise, raising the vibration too high.
Is there a wolf? he asks.
No.
Ok then, he says. Shh.
Right, got it. Sorry. Shhh, shhh. Back into the body, the warm velveteen sack of fur, meat, bone, nerve. Well, I'm not so velveteen. Back into my meat suit, bone, nerve... I loaf. Frank flings his back feet out behind him in superman pose. He's not going anywhere anytime soon.
How to feel along the edges. How to know the boundaries. Can I fit? Is there space for me? How to scan, read the room. What is coming near?
The light catches Frank's whiskers like a halo. He moves his muzzle and they quiver. They pick up the airstream, the bunching up of air molecules that indicates the leg of the chair, the vibration of the dog's feet on the wood floor on the other side of the house. He walks foot by foot to the edge of the couch, sticks his head under. His whiskers feel along the edges. Will his rotund hind end fit through? He backs up. Sits up, whiskers vibrating. No more dog footsteps. Just the breeze from the ceiling fan, the clump of air at the leg of the chair. And me, my breathing. He twitches his whiskers to double check. He lowers himself, loafs. All quiet now.
And my whiskers? I feel I've been given a whisker-ectomy. I can't always feel who is near, who is coming, the size of an opening in life and if I can or cannot fit through. Instinctual decisions don't come instinctually. Instead, I start thinking. Did she mean what she said? What did she mean? She didn't mean that. She said something opposite before. But what if she did mean it? How can I know? I'm overthinking it. No I'm not! She must have meant something else....And round and round and round...
Frank sits up, alarmed. TOO LOUD, he says. TOO MUCH THINKING.
Sorry Frank. I am cluttering the air with mental noise, raising the vibration too high.
Is there a wolf? he asks.
No.
Ok then, he says. Shh.
Right, got it. Sorry. Shhh, shhh. Back into the body, the warm velveteen sack of fur, meat, bone, nerve. Well, I'm not so velveteen. Back into my meat suit, bone, nerve... I loaf. Frank flings his back feet out behind him in superman pose. He's not going anywhere anytime soon.
#2
Recovery Journals / Re: Living As All of Me
Last post by HannahOne - Today at 08:54:48 PMSanMagic7, thank you for reading and commenting! I was quite interested in the idea of instinctual boundary. I have been pondering this idea. How I had to overrule this instinct in the past. How I might tune into it more, now. Thank you!
#3
Recovery Journals / Re: Post-Traumatic Growth Jour...
Last post by HannahOne - Today at 08:46:43 PMSO, so happy to hear about the community garden and your growing (hehe) role in that community! The art of creating a healthy environment for new growth. You took on the role of chief coordinator of compost, a role which seems like a powerful metaphor. You know what keeps soil healthy, you know how to deal with weeds, you know what a garden needs. You offered others to join in this reparative preparation of the soil. Some may be puzzled, and you're equally puzzled back...and across the knowledge gap, you're experiencing being carefree. So thrilled for you! Yes, yes, and yes!
#4
Recovery Journals / Re: Post-Traumatic Growth Jour...
Last post by SenseOrgan - Today at 08:18:33 PMThank you all!!!
Been so insanely busy lately. Community garden stuff, for a good part. Ever since the meeting, I've been up to my neck in it. It was a pivotal moment. Joined the whats-app group, and before I knew it, I took it upon me to arrange an extra compost delivery. I offered others to join, so we could share the huge delivery costs. That was a lot of back and forth between many people for many days. Intersecting with the regular, utterly chaotic and amateurish, annual compost delivery. It got very stressful, and I ended up terribly overwhelmed and irritable at some point. I was able to keep going with one thing at the time in the midst of it. Still am! I walked a shocking total distance with a wheelbarrow. There's 7 m3 of compost in my garden now. Some people are really puzzled. I get remarks, even. I am, on my part, puzzled by their lack of understanding of soil health and dealing with weeds. So I'm not taking it as a rejection or whatever. My anxiety is, for a good part, gone. I'm definitively a member of this community now. It's totally normal. I feel completely normal. And often I also realize where I came from, which makes walking around on the terrain carefree unreal. Cured? Healed? Yes and no. I don't think about life in these terms anymore. I'm not free from trauma. I'm getting strong doses of "Out of the Storm" though.
Been so insanely busy lately. Community garden stuff, for a good part. Ever since the meeting, I've been up to my neck in it. It was a pivotal moment. Joined the whats-app group, and before I knew it, I took it upon me to arrange an extra compost delivery. I offered others to join, so we could share the huge delivery costs. That was a lot of back and forth between many people for many days. Intersecting with the regular, utterly chaotic and amateurish, annual compost delivery. It got very stressful, and I ended up terribly overwhelmed and irritable at some point. I was able to keep going with one thing at the time in the midst of it. Still am! I walked a shocking total distance with a wheelbarrow. There's 7 m3 of compost in my garden now. Some people are really puzzled. I get remarks, even. I am, on my part, puzzled by their lack of understanding of soil health and dealing with weeds. So I'm not taking it as a rejection or whatever. My anxiety is, for a good part, gone. I'm definitively a member of this community now. It's totally normal. I feel completely normal. And often I also realize where I came from, which makes walking around on the terrain carefree unreal. Cured? Healed? Yes and no. I don't think about life in these terms anymore. I'm not free from trauma. I'm getting strong doses of "Out of the Storm" though.
#5
Recovery Journals / Re: The ramblings of an abused...
Last post by NarcKiddo - Today at 06:23:35 PMBe gentle with yourself, Slashy. This sounds really hard.
#6
Recovery Journals / Re: The ramblings of an abused...
Last post by GoSlash27 - Today at 06:22:17 PM The missing time from Feb 1974 to Apr 1975 was a nonstop horror show of imprisonment, abandonment, neglect, and physical abuse at the hands of two horrible maternal "caregivers" (mom and Miss Pat). with (so far) at least one stay in McIntyre Shelter.
I feel sick to my stomach reading what's in this file.
I feel sick to my stomach reading what's in this file.
#7
AV - Avoidance / Re: Dissociation, depression a...
Last post by erik5 - Today at 05:31:31 PMQuote from: NarcKiddo on February 24, 2026, 06:04:41 PMI'm sorry you're struggling with exhaustion.
For myself art or exercise can often help - but with exercise it is a very fine judgement as to whether I need physical rest or should start moving a little to see if I can push myself out of it. Given you describe how you are feeling as "really bad exhaustion" it does not sound to me as if exercise is likely to help. That said, some sort of movement is important and if you can get out into the fresh air for a short walk that is probably worth trying to do.
The main thing I get from your post is your statement that it is hard to do anything productive. That sounds as if you are being a bit hard on yourself. Perhaps you are thinking that you "should" do something productive. But looking after yourself is of itself productive and the goal is a very important one. So my main suggestion is to take as much pressure off yourself as possible. Use as much time as you can to take care of you, whatever that looks like.
Wishing you well.
Thanks for the reply. I try to eat healthy and take a walk every day. I hasn't helped yet though.
Quote from: Kizzie on February 24, 2026, 06:05:33 PMHi Erik - Sorry to hear you are feeling so numb and exhausted right now, CPTSD and recovery can take so much out of us. Are you in therapy at the moment? If so, you might want to speak to you therapist about how you're feeling.
If not, I found what helped me (and please know we're all different so these may not be right for you), was to take what I like to call "trauma breaks." I would put down the books about trauma, read and post less here, take naps, try and do some fun things which could include just binge watching a good TV show if that's all you're up for, take short walks in the fresh air, or go for a ride in the car.
I hope this is helpful!
Thanks for your reply. I'm not in therapy. I don't think I ever feel anything is fun. I'm either numb or in a lot of anxiety or anger. It feels like I've wasted so much of my life dissociating with the internet and being addicted to alcohol, so now when I'm sober I want to work on my healing to finally get better and not waste any more time.
#8
Recovery Journals / Re: The ramblings of an abused...
Last post by GoSlash27 - Today at 05:26:51 PM My memories prior to 1974 are corroborated, and my memories after are dissociated.
But everything after the motel actually happened a year later.
But everything after the motel actually happened a year later.
#9
Recovery Journals / Re: The ramblings of an abused...
Last post by GoSlash27 - Today at 05:24:14 PM I got my CWS file this morning. It is so much worse than I ever knew!
Everything that happened between January 27th 1974 (the motel) and April 11th 1975 (miss Pat) has been blocked out. I've lost over a year!!!
Processing...
Everything that happened between January 27th 1974 (the motel) and April 11th 1975 (miss Pat) has been blocked out. I've lost over a year!!!
Processing...
#10
Recovery Journals / Re: the next step
Last post by sanmagic7 - Today at 02:03:31 PMthanks, NK. the luncheon was not exactly what i thought it would be. One woman, who i didn't know, seemed to have a need to be heard about hers and her husbands physical problems. i was already too tired to stay, yet i didn't want to seem rude, so i waited till she had to go. then i left, but had a difficult time staying alert while driving home. guess that teaches me something.