A Safe Place To Be Visible

[woodsgnome]

This is so like too many of my days. Things feel alright, or at least on even keel, and it all changes. Sometimes I have no idea what happened, as often there's no discernible trigger that i can identify -- just the sense of doom, which in turn sets off doubts and ... no need to explain, you've described this very well.

It takes huge amounts of patience to at least accept that these tough times are riding along -- close and for too long. It's maddening, sure; but mostly just sad.

I'm hoping this will at least ease some of your current pain -- 

[owl25]

It's rough, having to re-experience this. I hope it passes soon

[Bach]

It hurts to be understood in this. But it would hurt more not to. Thank you for responding, friends 

I wish I could tell my Other that I love him, but "I love you" seems to be a  triggering phrase for him. Last night I had a dream in which I hugged his head and said "I love you so much!" to him and he was happy to hear it. Maybe even said it back? I don't know. I don't usually remember my dreams, although it has become apparent to me that unremembered bad dreams trouble my sleep almost every night. The ones I do remember are strange and patchy and garbled, suffused with unidentifiable threat and disquietude. So I don't remember the context of "I love you so much", but it was an atypical moment of joy in a night of typically unsettling dreams. That moment of joy was so vivid that this morning I caught myself thinking it had really happened and being happy, then feeling sad when I remembered that it was a dream.

Last year, my discovering CPTSD helped me understand so much not only about me about him. Before that, I knew that he and I had both grown up in awful circumstances with similarly neglectful/abusive mothers and that we had an empathy and understanding because of that, but I didn't know why sometimes we would wander into a thicket where we could just not say or do anything right with each other. Every few years we would go through unbelievably painful prolonged estrangements. He is averse to therapy and has dealt with his pain and stress all his life through perfectionism and overwork. So I am not really able to share much of my self-healing path with him, but my having more understanding of his responses to me has helped me so much with my responses to him. Still, though, it doesn't make the strictures on my emotional expression any less frustrating. If anything, it makes them more frustrating, because my increased understanding has deepened our relationship. 

I wish that I could tell him how I feel and have him tell me. It's hard for me to accept that that isn't safe for him. If I express my feelings for him verbally he generally doesn't respond. Once he said "I don't know what to say to that." That kind of hurt my feelings but mostly it was just frustrating. So I stopped trying to say it a long time ago. I haven't said it out loud in longer than I can remember, but a few times I wrote it on a piece of paper and left it in his jacket or texted it to him in a foreign language. What does he think about that? Where does it go? Does he reject it out of hand or does he value it? Does he file it away in his busy brain, his vast dark storehouse of [Other]? I will probably never know..

Why does it matter? I know he loves me. I know by how he always comes back no matter how often our traumas clash. And I know by the touching. Lots and lots and lots of touching. I used to think all that was purely about sex but now I know that it's the only way he can express his emotions. I love the closeness and the physical communication. Unspoken though it is, our bond is intimate and deep and genuine. But still, I wish I could tell him.

[Snowdrop]

That sounds hard, Bach. I get how understanding more has deepened the connection you have, but not being able to say the words sounds frustrating. I guess not saying them in this situation is in itself an act of love.

Hugs to you, my friend.

[RiverRabbit]

Sounds like a lot of the struggles my wife and I have.

I can relate to only being able to express emotions by touch at times.  Language can be such a botched entanglement sometimes.

[Bach]

Snowdrop, that not saying it is an act of love is a great way to look at it. I feel very tender and protective towards him, more than ever now that I feel I understand him better and can really see how lost he is inside. I can't heal him but I can accept him and love him and be here, and I guess that's enough

River Rabbit, thank you for your response. Maybe that's also how he feels. Also, thinking about your odd and yet apt phrase "botched entanglement" it occurred to me that he might not be the only one triggered by matters of using words to express feelings between us. I think that is probably a "thing" for me with people I care about deeply; wanting to tell them I love them but fearing that it will be unwelcome or not believed or not understood.

[owl25]

That sounds so hard, Bach. I hope that maybe with time and some of his own processing you might be able work on this together as a couple. It would be wonderful for him as well to be able to hear those words spoken with genuine love and tenderness. It would be such a beautiful gift. But I understand that right now that's unsafe and not possible.

[Snowdrop]

I can feel the tenderness and love you have for him through your post, Bach. I'm sure he can feel it too when you're with him.

[RiverRabbit]

The most valuable gift we can give our partners is grace and patience.

It seems a lot of us recognize the kinship of trauma in others that we are drawn to... these are the ones who we feel we can trust more.

I too have a partner (wife) that comes from some deep trauma.  We are in a rough spot, but it seems to be getting better.

[Bach]

For a long time now, I have been trying to remember good things from my childhood.  Anything good at all.  Because I know with my head that it can't have all been pure continuous suffering, and that there must have been some fun things, some joy, some pleasure, but really, I can remember hardly any of that.  I can remember times that I liked something or was excited about something, and I can remember things that I know brought me pleasure, but I have no memories of any of that excitement or pleasure.  I actually can't really remember very much of my childhood at all.  A lot of what I remember is in bits and snatches.  Composites, perhaps.  For some reason, I have for many years have believed that there were somehow answers to be found if I could only remember more of my childhood.  Perhaps because of the flashback I didn't know I had had in 2006 that led to the dream that led to my remembering the time when I was somewhere around 10 years old that [Trigger follows, text in white] my mother strangled me until I started to pass out.   But anyway, since then I have looked for memories everywhere I could think of, trying to piece everything together. 

This morning, I told my therapist that I think I need to stop trying to remember things from my childhood.  That I already have enough information about what happened to me back then, and that I don't know whether I'm trying to prove to myself that it really was that bad, or that somehow it really wasn't that bad, but either one is pointless in any case.  I said that I have to stop trying to make sense of it, and just grieve it.  Grieve for the child I was, for everything that poor child could have been but wasn't because no one gave her anything she needed.  But I don't know how to do that, because I don't know how to stop trying to figure out what to DO about it.  She asked me what feeling it without trying to figure out what to DO about it feels like, and I told her that it feels like death.  I think that's because of [trigger in white] my mother suffocating me when I was an infant. An infant doesn't know from choices.  An infant knows only how to struggle. So that's what I learned, that my choices are to struggle or to die.

Something really hard about this is that some of what I think this grieving process might be about goes against ideals that I've had all my life about taking responsibility and not blaming others.  I do take responsibility.  I have never coddled my neuroses.  I have always looked for solutions to my problems and sought ways to become happier and healthier.  I have always tried to avoid being hung up on the past, and feeling sorry for myself about the terrible things that happened to me.  I've always been vehemently averse to blaming my parents for my difficulties or using that I had bad parenting as an excuse to complain or be a jerk.  I hate being pitied and the last thing I want to do is feel sorry for myself.  Self-pity is universally accepted as a very bad quality.  But the thing is, when I think about the things that happened to me, how can I not feel sorry for myself?  I mean, if I read about my childhood as a story about someone else, I'd feel terribly sorry for that poor girl.  I would be thinking "Wow, did she survive that?  How?  What happened to her?  How is she doing now?  That poor baby.  That poor child!  She never had a chance!"  A lot of people complain about their parents, blame their parents, it's a loathsome old cliche.  I never wanted to blame my parents.  But the fact is, in my case, I have done everything I could possibly do for pretty much my entire adult life to overcome the things that my parents are legitimately to blame for.  Ugh.  It is not supposed to be like this.

[Not Alone]

I don't know too much about grieving for my childhood. I would assume it is a process. It seems that part of the process is looking at the messages that you have internalized (please note: NO blame in that statement) or had forced upon you that have kept you from grieving.

Something really hard about this is that some of what I think this grieving process might be about goes against ideals that I've had all my life about taking responsibility and not blaming others.

It also seems to me that this thought process:

But the thing is, when I think about the things that happened to me, how can I not feel sorry for myself?  I mean, if I read about my childhood as a story about someone else, I'd feel terribly sorry for that poor girl.  I would be thinking "Wow, did she survive that?  How?  What happened to her?  How is she doing now?  That poor baby.  That poor child!  She never had a chance!"

is a good way to look at yourself and deepen your compassion for little Bach.

Step by step. 

[Bach]

Thank you for your reply, notalone  

I've got nothing else right now because life is pain and I want to die.

[Snowdrop]

Bach, please know that I care about you and value you. I'm glad that you're here. 

[Hope67]

Dear Bach,
I'm also glad you're here, and I value you.  I hope there is something that can help with your pain, that is safe and healing for you - or whatever you need. 
Sending you a hug, if that's ok 
Hope 

[Not Alone]

Bach, I wish I could ease that pain. You are precious and deserve a great deal of love and kindness. I care about you.