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#1

Recovery Journals / Re: The ramblings of an abused...

Last post by GoSlash27 - Today at 08:13:43 AM

Depersonalization? Yes, clearly. I can't stand to look into my own eyes, whether in a mirror or taking a selfie. I feel like my reflection is a stranger. Deeply unsettling. Haven't looked in a mirror in years. I often feel like a "scribe" in my own life; following myself around and filming "me" in real time.

Derealization? Yes. Most of the time my experiences and memories have a dreamy "this isn't real" quality about them. It's part of what makes my memories so difficult to pin down and contextualize. The moment itself is real, but the surrounding circumstances are sort of a blur.

Dissociative amnesia? Yes, both types. Proximal (this event and surrounding period have been removed due to ToS violation) and generalized (this memory has been recorded, but with context blurred out). Ironically, my adaptation to this amnesia is what enables me to access memories from such ridiculously early ages. My normal M.O. is "sift through whatever memories happen to pop up at random" and try to catalogue/ make sense of them later. Surprise: There isn't a mere handful of them from toddler era, there are dozens or even hundreds of them! Thus, my general recall of events is notoriously bad, It gives rise to very vivid recall of other events that I shouldn't be able to remember.

 But definitely not Dissociative Identity Disorder. I have no memory or sense of multiple personalities. I'm not living "Fight Club" IRL over here.

3 years on. I'm still learning the terms; what applies and what doesn't.

 Best,
-Slashy

#2

Recovery Journals / Re: Living As All of Me

Last post by HannahOne - Today at 03:03:13 AM

Today I made seven medical appointments for testing in preparation to guide my treatment. Every day for the next month I have either PT, a lab test, or a doctor appointment. Yay, I guess. It took me this long to be able to do it. I still feel disoriented. I hope I will be able to do the appointments. Whenever I open the patient portal I feel like I'm going to lose control of my bowels. My heart flip flops. I don't want to look at it. Tomorrow morning I will talk to an old friend about my current thinking and get some perspective. I wish I had parents I could ask. Or even internal parents I could trust, that I could check in with. I have no ballast, no rudder in the storm. HannahOne, face to the wind.

Here I am. I am surprised to come to late midlife and realize the continual drag... thirty years ago I imagined that by this age, all the trauma would be resolved, I'd be free. Heh heh. Instead I find everything sling and arrow seems to add to the overall trauma load and I'm somehow, after all this work and healing, weaker than I was at age ten. Less able to perform, more easily unsettled, more full of self doubt, more confused. As a ten and twenty year old I was wild with hope. Now, nope. Weird.

But as a middle aged adult, I have some options. I'm planning a hiking and camping trip. I want to be just me in the wilderness. Well, me and my sibling. And a big pit bull from the streets of Santa Clarita. Yeah. I want to just have what I can carry on my back. A spork. A water bottle. A tent. A sleeping bag. Some freeze dried curry lentils and a collapsible water bowl for the dog. I want to lay on the ground with a high R value pad between it and me for my old bones and with the dog between me and the door of the tent. I want to move through a landscape under my own power. I'm working really hard in PT and every other day adding a few pounds to the weights. My body is changing. I feel stronger. The knee pain is much less. Another 6 weeks for full potential ligament healing.

The therapist wants to reconsider my treatment plan. Ok. I'm thinking about my goals. Two years ago when I Started this therapy my goal was to get out of bed. Half the sessions had to be zoom because when the time came I couldn't get up. Now I show up fabulously attired if I don't say so.... now my life is so much better. But I'm still really isolated. COVID did a number. I still cry every day, I feel so un-centered, lost, confused. What is the point? Why am I here? How can I make it worth it? What am I even doing? What should I be doing? I dont know what to do....

I don't know where to go. It's a luxury to have such a problem. I don't have to punch a clock, partner can carry us. Which is good, because while I can show up to therapy, I can't be under a boss, and can't seem to use my brain to work right now, brings up too many issues. And my body can't do labor. Lucky me. My whole family worked in the steel mill, took in laundry, farmed turnips in the backyard, lived without running water. I stretch and yawn. Lucky, lucky me. Right? Right? It's a privilege to have the time and money and energy to unravel the trauma they carried and invested in me. A privilege to think about "my goals for treatment." Right?

My goals so far:
Hire the PT to do personal training once PT runs out. He can also help post surgery.
Go to new art studio and see what happens.
Continue "Swedish death cleaning" to take charge of my space and so that we can relocate once kid graduates. I can't have things I can't move or manage myself. I want a lighter life. Unload stuff.
Find a mentor to continue painting training.
Find a context in person to be with other people at least weekly. A hiking group, a book group... ?
Find a volunteer opportunity in person.
Figure out what to do with my small business and find a new career goal if I want to close it.

These are my personal goals to continue finding some happiness and making a life worth living. I don't know what her treatment goals for me will be. TBD. Hope it won't become a fight. Sometimes therapists get fascinated. Or invested in their own ideas. Or scared. C'mon lady. If I can do it, you can do it.

 

#3

Recovery Journals / Re: The ramblings of an abused...

Last post by GoSlash27 - Today at 02:53:31 AM

 After my last memory of "Hingepin Manor", my memories become much darker and sporadic. We (my 2 siblings, grandmother, and mother) are holed up in a garishly decorated motel room. Red shag carpet, curtains closed, a linoleum area at the other end of the room. Mom is injured and we're not allowed to go outside. A strange man comes to the door and brings us food and says "He's out looking for you".
*Snip*
 Living with our babysitter Miss Pat, our next door neighbor from our (currently unknown) residence prior to Hingepin Manor. Mom and Grandma are gone and Miss Pat shouted and hit us a lot.
*Snip*
 The night they took us to the shelter and my experiences in the shelter related above.
*Snip*
 Life with my foster family, some of which I've related previously.
*Snip* back with Mom, my Grandma, and my brother (sister is gone).
 Hingepin Manor, the previous residence, and my foster home hold a lot of positive memories for me. I'm looking forward to learning more about them. The shelter had many unhappy or neutral memories, but I'm curious to learn more about that too.
 After Foster care, I clearly remember the addresses and appearance of every house I lived at.
 

#4

Recovery Journals / Re: Living As All of Me

Last post by HannahOne - Today at 02:37:48 AM

SanMagic, thank you for seeing the whole of me

NarcKiddo, thank you for reading and commenting. Solidarity.

#5

Recovery Journals / Re: Activating myself

Last post by Blueberry - Today at 01:14:51 AM

I did notice that sounding out the sentences repeatedly, for improving listening skills and pronunciation, seemed to lead to exhaustion (?) in my mouth and throat.

So now I notice my attention wandering, probably time I looked back into what was going on during my language lesson? what did I overlook? what self-soothing would I have needed then? what do I or Parts need now?

There's nothing like going back to actually doing part of a lesson to start figuring things out...

I now have some pain in my throat and ears, which is a psychosomatic reaction I know very well. It's not so common these days. One reason during my language lesson seemed to be: I felt happy at the improvement I made / or just noticing I got something right and then this pain as a backlash because BB is not allowed to be good at something. Thanks FOO. Not a new concept for me, not surprising that this is what came up.

I also notice tension in my body, especially my chest (breathing apparatus?) and a hollow feeling when I'm about to check my response, because it could be wrong. This is obviously something I need to work on Parts with, even 'just' explaining that it's OK to make mistakes.

Also it feels new and scary (not so approved in FOO?) for me to be deducing answers from context or... This is actually an aspect of learning this particular language from Duolingo which I find good. Deduce the grammar rules thru your own work during the lessons, you're more likely to actually learn for keeps than if you read the rule. But I suppose that's my head plus what I taught myself professionally rather than any kind of past emotion from an IC
FOO was big on deducing answers, but not so big on my doing so. They were more keen on putting me down for being 'stupid'. So I suppose it could feel scary for a Part or two if I'm able to deduce now? Tightening in chest + hollow feeling while writing that down. Exhale, big sigh.

To state the obvious, it's more important for me to work with these IC topics coming up than to forge ahead with the duolingo. Even if I'm high up the weekly chart rn and that does feel good. Keeping going regularly with a task i.e. practising is a goal, but equally important to find out what kind of hurdles are in the way. Grrr. Don't want hurdles, was glad there were so few, glad to get so far w/o encountering many but now they're coming and otoh that's like a 'gift' because now I'm not in the dark so much anymore about why activating myself can be so difficult. On the cusp of big progress, probably.

Learning this particular language does make me think of FOO a bit. Not because they spoke it or learnt it or wanted me to or anything. Just other reasons. Plus learning it especially the pronunciation reminds me how much especially my parents always took for granted that the way they speak is the correct way. And the way they ridiculed people who spoke English a different way from what they viewed as acceptable. Some dialects were acceptable to them, even though my parents didn't use those dialects. Very weird and confusing for me growing up. I suppose it might feel alarming to some Part of me to realise that I know more than M does about this particular language and how it affects pronunciation of geographical features etc in my parents' home country

It seems also that a Part feels the remembered disapproval of FOO about newer methods in education and/or language learning. Again, a bit like deducing. I can look for the answer to a sentence or just a word or two in Duolingo before I click to Check. And I do do that. Basically so I don't lose so many points that I can't continue learning, but also so that I don't continually misspell or use wrong words and get them stuck in my memory. The methods I'm using seem to actually work for me. But that's scary. Forget to breathe etc.

So, that gives me quite a bit to work on.

#6

Recovery Journals / Hingepin Manor! (def no trigge...

Last post by GoSlash27 - Today at 01:02:42 AM

I found "Hingepin Manor"! 
 Searching through newspaper archives for legal notifications related to properties and then translating the "lot/parcel/etc" to a street address revealed... An empty lot. But going back in time on Google Street view showed the house before it was demolished.
 I'm hoping that the picture will trigger some new memories, because all of my memories of this place are happy.
 
 My dad brought me with him once when I was 2 years old while he was fixing it up. I have many memories from that day. I woke up on a PCC trolley. It was very weird, the only time I've ever been inside one. Dim round lights in the ceiling, wooden seats, all the grownups (mostly men) dressed very smartly. The ride had a rattly, bumpy quality.
 We got off the trolley downtown and it was only then I realized it was a trolley. The steel wheels rattling as it turned the corner, commutator sparking in the dark.
 I asked my dad what time it was, and he said it was 9:00! It looked like nighttime and the streetlights were on, but this was normal for downtown Pittsburgh in 1973. We got on a bus and I was disappointed. I really liked the trolley. Apparently I was used to riding buses.
 My dad sat me in the kitchen, told me not to go anywhere, and went off to do some work...
 The door to the basement was missing, and I got to playing with random stuff, including a couple hinge pins I found near the doorway. There was a gap between the stairs and the wall, so I played "bombardier". 
 Dad came back later and asked me what happened to the hingepins. I blinked (I had no idea what hingepins were). Where are the hingepins?
 "Hingepins" is a hilarious sounding word. I didn't know what it meant, but it sounded funny. I started giggling, then doubled over in gales of laughter, tears streaming down my face. "Where are the hingepins"? "Hinnnngepinnns"!
 And the more I laughed and squealed "hingepins", the angrier and more frustrated he got. He went off and came back with another pair of hingepins, but they didn't look like the ones I had dropped. 
 So he put me in a high chair and gave me some cheerios so I'd stay put. The high chair was *very* high and unstable and I was afraid to move for fear it'd fall over. I sat there quietly and watched Dad work. He did find the pins in the basement and hang the door.
 On our way home we stopped in a bar (definitely a bar) and dad got me a slice of pizza to eat. while he talked with his friends. I asked about the pepper flakes and he told me they were hot. I put them on my pizza and sat there in a booster seat on a high backed barstool and munched on my pizza. It was spicy, but I ate it all anyway. Not out of fear of dad being gruff, but because I didn't want to admit that I'd used too much pepper.
-------------------------
 I have many "random polaroid" memories in that house. No signs of DV or anything like that. Mom and Dad seemed very happy with each other. We were there from Summer '73 to at least January '74. I know this because I remember my baby sister and I ruined my brother's brand new drum set playing "diner" in the basement. The drum heads were made out of paper and my sister and I had been placing cups of water on them pretending we were serving customers. "more water, they need more water"! It was a busy shift at the diner...
 So we destroyed his brand new drum set, which he would have gotten either for Christmas or his birthday (end of December).
 That's my last known memory of "Hingepin Manor".   

#7

Therapy / Re: Craniosacral Therapy (CST)...

Last post by Blueberry - Today at 12:08:05 AM

What I'm taking from this isn't that one modality is "better," but that my nervous system responds best to:
- stillness over intensity
- broad, non-demanding contact
- feeling supported rather than worked on

I'm still learning what helps and what doesn't. But noticing these differences - and allowing myself to keep searching - feels like progress in itself. Sometimes it's the smallest moments of safety that show us what we needed all along.

 

I found it very moving reading your whole post here and the process you went through.

#8

Recovery Journals / Re: Activating myself

Last post by Blueberry - Today at 12:00:53 AM

Thank you Papa Coco

Thank you Bach. You're welcome to borrow and expand the concept if helpful for you  

#9

Successes, Progress? / Re: Putting the brakes on / li...

Last post by Blueberry - February 19, 2026, 11:54:35 PM

but my own FOO forbade us from talking about family unless FOO curated what was said

That was the case in my FOO too especially regarding 'airing the family laundry in public' but the sentences I was coming up with are I think too basic to have caused anything like that. Plus, it doesn't resonate. But it's a useful idea for me to feel into.

I did notice that sounding out the sentences repeatedly, for improving listening skills and pronunciation, seemed to lead to exhaustion (?) in my mouth and throat. I was actually enjoying sounding out while also thinking that's not what I'm so skilled at. :Lightbulb: that felt like a FOO criticism, the sort of thing B1 would have pointed out. I was also told that at school in my first year learning French. I'd changed schools and everybody else had been learning longer. I must have said a sentence or read a sentence in the break and two fellow pupils mentioned in passing that I had an awful accent. A fairly standard remark of the sort I'm sure I've made to people in the past, especially back then, with no malice intended. But nonetheless it made a little jab. Like remarks people including FOO but other pupils at school too made about the quality of my singing.

I do know that Little NK who is probably between 5 and 8 is often satisfied by having a toy to hold and will then be content for me to read on. I think you have used that approach too?

You're right. Good reminder, thanks. Another possibility for me if I can find out which Parts are involved is to put them in their Safe Places before doing anymore duolingo especially pronunciation exercises. Also to interrupt the lesson right away and ask the Part(s) what's up and/or what would help them. That's basically what I do when I'm doing trauma-processing with OT.

#10

Recovery Journals / Re: Activating myself

Last post by Bach - February 19, 2026, 07:56:08 PM

Blueberry, I love your concept of activating yourself.  Lately I have been thinking a lot about something like what you are describing, and I haven't had a word for it.  I like activation, especially with the idea that it can be a small thing, a low-key thing, does not have to be doing a big project or even completing all the parts of a particular task, and in particular, does not have to be strenuous physical exercise!  This is good stuff and I wish you the best with it!