Recent posts
#81
Recovery Journals / Re: the next step
Last post by Chart - February 01, 2026, 04:22:08 PMMy mornings are usually a labyrinth... I lay listening to the snorted breathing of the Minotaur just the other side of the stone wall.
#82
Recovery Journals / Re: the next step
Last post by TheBigBlue - February 01, 2026, 04:19:20 PMMe too - fortunately I too will see my T tomorrow.
#83
Recovery Journals / Re: the next step
Last post by HannahOne - February 01, 2026, 03:01:59 PMSolidarity in the tough mornings.
#84
Recovery Journals / Re: Living As All of Me
Last post by HannahOne - February 01, 2026, 02:55:16 PM
Thank you for reading and commenting, Marcine!
Yes. I am working on heeding my body's signals.
That's part of what I'm trying to do with the clothes. Every morning when I put something on, is it a "yes"? How do I know? It's a yes if I feel like moving, if I feel more present. It's a no if I feel stiff, awkward, or tension in my face. This is all new and I'm struggling with it. Noticing inside what I feel. But I need to do it!
You're so right and I know you've walked this walk and come out the other side which inspires me to keep working at it and being open to it even when my habit is to shut down and just keep going.
This morning I had some clarity. It wasn't just that I had chicken pox. My sibling also had chicken pox! And was three at the time. Yikes. I forgot that part.
I was taking care of my sibling and feeling helpless at their misery. Worried, how sick would we get? I had no idea. There was no internet. What if I got too sick to take care of my sibling? My mistakes, I ran a tub, made the water too hot. Felt scared, responsible, guilt, overwhelm. Their constant fussing. Getting us water. Standing at the cupboards having no idea what to make, or how. Put the tomato sauce in a pan, heated it, added dry pasta to the sauce.... which of course did not cook. Turning off the stove, checking it over and over to be sure it was "off." Getting us each an apple, putting on cartoons, scratching. What a nightmare.
The sense of helpless overwhelm and feeling I MUST caretake is ALSO an emotional flashback.
My kids are teenagers. My partner is an adult. The load is not so heavy as a sick three year old when I'm just nine. My family absolutely CAN take on caring for themselves for 24-48 hours. One kid may fuss and whine, OH WELL. I can tolerate it. No one is going to yell at me if there are dishes in the sink and a cardboard box on the floor. I can chill in bed if I feel like it. I don't have to get up and clean with a stuffy head. I can make myself a cup of soup, I know how to cook now.
And this is JUST A COLD. I am not going to get severely ill.
I have to work through this stuff quick. So I can do what else I have to do to take care of myself.
Breaking the isolation IS the path for me. I did thirty years of therapy, isolated in a box once a week with a therapist who, no matter how skilled and caring, couldn't share as a peer the internal knowing, because even if they'd been through it that was not their role. I love my therapists, most of them
and they truly helped me survive and learn to semi-thrive. But this is a whole new world. I had never broken the ice, the isolation. The isolation was the biggest part of the trauma. And now that, too, is over, is in the past. Thank you for sending love and care.
#85
Recovery Journals / Re: the next step
Last post by sanmagic7 - February 01, 2026, 02:54:34 PMterrible anxiety this morning, lots of neg. remembrances as i lay in bed not yet ready to get up but the only way to stop them was to get moving. therapy tomorrow - so glad of that. this crapola is driving me nuts!
#86
Recovery Journals / Re: Living As All of Me
Last post by Marcine - February 01, 2026, 06:46:29 AMHannahOne, bummer to hear you feel under the weather. I'm relieved you are able to clock the emotional storm as a flashback. You're exercising powerful awareness during an intense onslaught! Those past memories clench my heart, I send love to 9 year old you 
itching in the night, suffering alone...
In present day, it sounds like the weight of the whole family functioning is on your shoulders. That's an enormous load to bear, even for a super mom
"It's scary to feel I must keep going, when my body says I can't."
I think your body's messages are real and very important to heed. And I know I'm not telling you anything new. I wish I had an instant fix that could relieve the pressure.
All that comes to mind is the Shakespeare line: "To thine own self be true."
Feeling that carefree, deep camaraderie sets the bar, doesn't it? Experiencing the safety of being authentic AND connected with others in a heart-to-heart way... well, that's the real deal.
Once that's felt, it pretty much destroys the distortion of inevitable, perpetual separateness. And the lie of being unlovable starts to shrivel.
I hope you can rest comfortably under your blankets.
And that you feel better soon. Sending love, my friend
itching in the night, suffering alone...
In present day, it sounds like the weight of the whole family functioning is on your shoulders. That's an enormous load to bear, even for a super mom
"It's scary to feel I must keep going, when my body says I can't."
I think your body's messages are real and very important to heed. And I know I'm not telling you anything new. I wish I had an instant fix that could relieve the pressure.
All that comes to mind is the Shakespeare line: "To thine own self be true."
Feeling that carefree, deep camaraderie sets the bar, doesn't it? Experiencing the safety of being authentic AND connected with others in a heart-to-heart way... well, that's the real deal.
Once that's felt, it pretty much destroys the distortion of inevitable, perpetual separateness. And the lie of being unlovable starts to shrivel.
I hope you can rest comfortably under your blankets.
And that you feel better soon. Sending love, my friend #87
Recovery Journals / Re: Living As All of Me
Last post by HannahOne - February 01, 2026, 05:22:53 AMFeeling triggered and thought writing might help.
I had a wonderful day today connecting with a special group of people. Afterward I felt so centered and calm, so present. I think this has been a huge missing piece for me in my life, being with people who understand what it's like to have CPTSD, being able to be "out" about it. No one in my life knows my diagnosis. I don't share my past beyond that I was "raised by wolves." My partner knows because he lives with me, not because I've told him. My sibling knows because they lived it with me. I've lived as someone to whom it didn't happen.
To be able to take for granted that it happened, to be with people who lived it too, to even laugh about the predicament with others..... I wish I could better describe the feeling, all I can say is "solid." and "clear." "Quiet inside." "Arrived." "All of me." "What I've been searching for." This feeling lasted for hours and hours and I just reveled in it. It's like all the me's of the past were taking it in, and it was changing their lives, too, rewriting the past. Not alone---never alone. While I was suffering in the Midwest of America, these beloveds were also going through their own samsaras, AND COMING OUT ON THE OTHER SIDE, all these years ALSO fighting, climbing, searching, learning, persevering, believing. It's a shared experience. It's an experience of human beings. I am a human being. I belong to the tribe of humans. If they can live and thrive, I too can live and thrive. I can be someone to whom it all happened---I CAN BE ME.
As the day wore on I started to feel unwell and now it's clear I'm getting a cold. NBD. A little cold. Tested negative for flu an dCOVID. Fine.
Yet I'm spiraling. I HATE the feeling of "going down."
I get so scared when I feel sick. I get so triggered. I get so scared.
I hate being unable to do things. Feeling helpless is the worst feeling for me.
I had cleaned the whole house Friday, yet today it's messed up again, and I can't clean it, I can't do the dishes this evening, I can't clean the rat cage, I can't put away the laundry. I hate disorder, it's very triggering as my house growing up could be hoarded or disordered. I am not a neat freak and do regularly have creative mess, it's just that when I feel triggered I need to be able to order it. And right now I can't. Frank's lettuce sits on the counter, the dishes sit in the sink, there's a box that needs to go to recycling. A feeling of chaos and neglect overwhelms me.
It's scary to feel I must keep going, when my body says I can't. I'll still have to take care of everyone, meals, dishes, laundry, pets, a cycle of every 2 hours another production. Recently with my surgery I got one kid and the partner to step up and the other kid who just can't cope went to a friend's for the week. How will I produce meals tomorrow. I can't even think.
Being sick was rough as a kid. When I had flu they made me bathe in cold water, scrub my head (wouldn't pay to heat the water), and put on my tights and patent leather shoes and frilly dress to go to Christmas dinner. I passed out in the hallway with wet hair dripping on my dress. They bundled me up and put me in the car, hair still dripping in 20 degree winter, off to grandma's house. I laid on her carpet and the room spun. I don't remember getting home. One of the worst moments of my life was having chicken pox. Sounds wild, right? So much abuse, and yet it was CHICKEN POX that got me? I was about 9 years old and awake in the middle of the night, so itchy, and alone. Feverish. It's the only time I ever wished to die as a child. I just felt so alone in my suffering, lying on the green carpet in the living room so my crying wouldn't wake my parents, scratching nd scratching and asking God to take me. It was my dark night of the soul. Probably because of high fever.
I also don't like my plans being messed up. I don't have much of a life, and now I won't be able to do a few things that were important to me. I had plans for tomorrow, for once in years my partner and I were going to go out to breakfast. I was to return a pair of shoes. And I want to go to therapy in person on Monday. And my older kid has several doctors appointments. And I'm supposed to see the oncologist. And I need to respond to the district about IEP. And I already can't think clearly.
If I could just lay in bed and be sick I think it could be a cozy feeling. It's the feeling of having to keep going that is getting me.
I'm not sure how to get through a night that now feels scary, isolated, nightmarish. I want to go back to the feeling I had earlier today of being fully present, clear, and inner quiet. That inner quiet was just delicious. That sense of presence was so yummy. That feeling of clarity was cravable. How can I get back to that and unblend from this?
There's a loud thumping from down the hall. Frank always interrupts my rumination, it's like he can sense overthinking and it annoys him, he doesn't like the vibe. THUMP THUMP STOP THINKING, THINKING TOO LOUD. This is Frank's happy hour, he's crepuscular so 8pm-midnight is his high time. Thump thump thump. And I'm not alone, Mia the dog is in her purple puffer coat and under my wool blanket for good measure, little thin-skinned Puerto Rican greyhound was not meant for snow. You can feel Frank's spirit loud tonight. Lately Frank is a destructo-bun. Lately he seems more frustrated. The more he heals, the more energy he has. It's his second year with us? or third? And month by month he has more energy, more self-expression. From totally shut down, to hopeful but in pain, to pain-free and curious, to connected and joyful, content and liberated, and now... destructo-bun. chewing a wire here, flinging his metal bowl there, thumping, tearing down the hall and back and tiptoeing onto the hard floor, digging the carpet into a frayed mess. He's a wild man these days. I love to see the spunky spirit but sir! You are a domesticated rabbit, please mind the wires! I think his intensity is just a sign of more healing, he feels safe enough to let his instincts out, Frank flag fly. And, clearly I am not alone. Thump thump thump, crash! I'm going to take away his bowl tomorrow.
I think one of the worst things about my trauma wasn't the fists or body part A and body part B, wasn't the emotional abuse, it was this sense of isolation. Neglect. That I'm alone, as if I'm the only one who ever suffered. Which is of course complete rabbit poop. Everyone suffers. Right now millions are suffering much more than a minor cold in a posh American suburb. It's not to gaslight myself with "people are starving in China," It's that I am not, actually, alone. This sense of profound isolation, alienation, depersonalization and derealization is an emotional flashback. It's not reality. Today I experienced not being alone. It was life-giving, absolutely life-giving.
Now, I have a cold. this too shall pass. I have taken zinc, vitamin C, vitamin D, peppermint oil, saline nasal spray and whatever other neurotic witch magic I can think of. I am safe under 100% wool covers to deal with night sweats. I have Netflix. All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of thing shall be well. I'm sorry I was not cared for when I had chicken pox. Which reminds me ,I need to get my shingles shot! Frank, have mercy. Frank be with me. Frank hear me, and make haste to help. Thump if you must. Be near me, and do not leave.
I had a wonderful day today connecting with a special group of people. Afterward I felt so centered and calm, so present. I think this has been a huge missing piece for me in my life, being with people who understand what it's like to have CPTSD, being able to be "out" about it. No one in my life knows my diagnosis. I don't share my past beyond that I was "raised by wolves." My partner knows because he lives with me, not because I've told him. My sibling knows because they lived it with me. I've lived as someone to whom it didn't happen.
To be able to take for granted that it happened, to be with people who lived it too, to even laugh about the predicament with others..... I wish I could better describe the feeling, all I can say is "solid." and "clear." "Quiet inside." "Arrived." "All of me." "What I've been searching for." This feeling lasted for hours and hours and I just reveled in it. It's like all the me's of the past were taking it in, and it was changing their lives, too, rewriting the past. Not alone---never alone. While I was suffering in the Midwest of America, these beloveds were also going through their own samsaras, AND COMING OUT ON THE OTHER SIDE, all these years ALSO fighting, climbing, searching, learning, persevering, believing. It's a shared experience. It's an experience of human beings. I am a human being. I belong to the tribe of humans. If they can live and thrive, I too can live and thrive. I can be someone to whom it all happened---I CAN BE ME.
As the day wore on I started to feel unwell and now it's clear I'm getting a cold. NBD. A little cold. Tested negative for flu an dCOVID. Fine.
Yet I'm spiraling. I HATE the feeling of "going down."
I get so scared when I feel sick. I get so triggered. I get so scared.
I hate being unable to do things. Feeling helpless is the worst feeling for me.
I had cleaned the whole house Friday, yet today it's messed up again, and I can't clean it, I can't do the dishes this evening, I can't clean the rat cage, I can't put away the laundry. I hate disorder, it's very triggering as my house growing up could be hoarded or disordered. I am not a neat freak and do regularly have creative mess, it's just that when I feel triggered I need to be able to order it. And right now I can't. Frank's lettuce sits on the counter, the dishes sit in the sink, there's a box that needs to go to recycling. A feeling of chaos and neglect overwhelms me.
It's scary to feel I must keep going, when my body says I can't. I'll still have to take care of everyone, meals, dishes, laundry, pets, a cycle of every 2 hours another production. Recently with my surgery I got one kid and the partner to step up and the other kid who just can't cope went to a friend's for the week. How will I produce meals tomorrow. I can't even think.
Being sick was rough as a kid. When I had flu they made me bathe in cold water, scrub my head (wouldn't pay to heat the water), and put on my tights and patent leather shoes and frilly dress to go to Christmas dinner. I passed out in the hallway with wet hair dripping on my dress. They bundled me up and put me in the car, hair still dripping in 20 degree winter, off to grandma's house. I laid on her carpet and the room spun. I don't remember getting home. One of the worst moments of my life was having chicken pox. Sounds wild, right? So much abuse, and yet it was CHICKEN POX that got me? I was about 9 years old and awake in the middle of the night, so itchy, and alone. Feverish. It's the only time I ever wished to die as a child. I just felt so alone in my suffering, lying on the green carpet in the living room so my crying wouldn't wake my parents, scratching nd scratching and asking God to take me. It was my dark night of the soul. Probably because of high fever.
I also don't like my plans being messed up. I don't have much of a life, and now I won't be able to do a few things that were important to me. I had plans for tomorrow, for once in years my partner and I were going to go out to breakfast. I was to return a pair of shoes. And I want to go to therapy in person on Monday. And my older kid has several doctors appointments. And I'm supposed to see the oncologist. And I need to respond to the district about IEP. And I already can't think clearly.
If I could just lay in bed and be sick I think it could be a cozy feeling. It's the feeling of having to keep going that is getting me.
I'm not sure how to get through a night that now feels scary, isolated, nightmarish. I want to go back to the feeling I had earlier today of being fully present, clear, and inner quiet. That inner quiet was just delicious. That sense of presence was so yummy. That feeling of clarity was cravable. How can I get back to that and unblend from this?
There's a loud thumping from down the hall. Frank always interrupts my rumination, it's like he can sense overthinking and it annoys him, he doesn't like the vibe. THUMP THUMP STOP THINKING, THINKING TOO LOUD. This is Frank's happy hour, he's crepuscular so 8pm-midnight is his high time. Thump thump thump. And I'm not alone, Mia the dog is in her purple puffer coat and under my wool blanket for good measure, little thin-skinned Puerto Rican greyhound was not meant for snow. You can feel Frank's spirit loud tonight. Lately Frank is a destructo-bun. Lately he seems more frustrated. The more he heals, the more energy he has. It's his second year with us? or third? And month by month he has more energy, more self-expression. From totally shut down, to hopeful but in pain, to pain-free and curious, to connected and joyful, content and liberated, and now... destructo-bun. chewing a wire here, flinging his metal bowl there, thumping, tearing down the hall and back and tiptoeing onto the hard floor, digging the carpet into a frayed mess. He's a wild man these days. I love to see the spunky spirit but sir! You are a domesticated rabbit, please mind the wires! I think his intensity is just a sign of more healing, he feels safe enough to let his instincts out, Frank flag fly. And, clearly I am not alone. Thump thump thump, crash! I'm going to take away his bowl tomorrow.
I think one of the worst things about my trauma wasn't the fists or body part A and body part B, wasn't the emotional abuse, it was this sense of isolation. Neglect. That I'm alone, as if I'm the only one who ever suffered. Which is of course complete rabbit poop. Everyone suffers. Right now millions are suffering much more than a minor cold in a posh American suburb. It's not to gaslight myself with "people are starving in China," It's that I am not, actually, alone. This sense of profound isolation, alienation, depersonalization and derealization is an emotional flashback. It's not reality. Today I experienced not being alone. It was life-giving, absolutely life-giving.
Now, I have a cold. this too shall pass. I have taken zinc, vitamin C, vitamin D, peppermint oil, saline nasal spray and whatever other neurotic witch magic I can think of. I am safe under 100% wool covers to deal with night sweats. I have Netflix. All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of thing shall be well. I'm sorry I was not cared for when I had chicken pox. Which reminds me ,I need to get my shingles shot! Frank, have mercy. Frank be with me. Frank hear me, and make haste to help. Thump if you must. Be near me, and do not leave.
#88
Recovery Journals / Re: Living As All of Me
Last post by HannahOne - February 01, 2026, 04:43:07 AMThank you, SanMagic7! I am feeling a new sense of empowerment at being able to make decisions about what to wear based on how I FEEL in my clothes, and express what I want to say. Hoping this will help me move more forward and out into the world and connect to other people.
#89
Recovery Journals / Re: the next step
Last post by sanmagic7 - January 31, 2026, 11:19:18 PMthank you so much for your solidarity w/ me, TBB. i do appreciate it. all this stuff has been distressing to me, the more i've learned, the more distressing it becomes. and i really haven't recognized much pain before, so feeling it now is new, and extremely distressing. part of the process of moving forward, i guess. good to have you on my side.
i can feel if something is physically painful, but i've learned over the years that i can also endure a lot of pain in that realm. this emotional pain, while i've spoken about it - such as, it's painful to have an estranged D1 - i don't really feel it. my outburst the other week i'm only beginning to understand the pain in it, how those were not tears of joy, but distressing tears.
i just read a 10-yr. old post of mine where i spoke of being in church and not being able to sing hymns that spoke of being loved by god/jesus because i'd start crying. am i crying for not having the feelings of being loved, cared for/about? am i crying for a lack of something? am i just sad or am i feeling the pain of that lack? i still am not sure.
i can feel if something is physically painful, but i've learned over the years that i can also endure a lot of pain in that realm. this emotional pain, while i've spoken about it - such as, it's painful to have an estranged D1 - i don't really feel it. my outburst the other week i'm only beginning to understand the pain in it, how those were not tears of joy, but distressing tears.
i just read a 10-yr. old post of mine where i spoke of being in church and not being able to sing hymns that spoke of being loved by god/jesus because i'd start crying. am i crying for not having the feelings of being loved, cared for/about? am i crying for a lack of something? am i just sad or am i feeling the pain of that lack? i still am not sure.
#90
Recovery Journals / Re: Hope's Journal 2026
Last post by sanmagic7 - January 31, 2026, 11:09:50 PMenjoy! love and hugs