Starting my journal

[holidayay]

Wow, its been nearly a year since I last posted here. And coming onto 7 years since I started this blog.
What a whirlwind of a journey its been.
I feel like several versions of me have passed between the date of my first entry here and today.
So many layers have been peeled back, peeked into, dug out and analyzed and dealt with.
Then...new layers uncovered.
Its quite a shock how much the things that used to bother me and terrify me, don't anymore. The things I used to worry about. The things I didn't yet know how to do, and worried I would never know, that I'd missed the boat.
Funny. Even when these things are proven untrue, it still doesn't stop that feeling being just as strong and seemingly all-pervasive when the next thing to fear comes up. And yet knowing that these feelings are only that; just feelings, that they are not necessarily reflective of truth or even in some cases, they can cause you to believe in outright lies....this gives me hopes for the new set of challenges that pop up.
Looking back retrospectively to apply PROSpectively. I'm sure one of my previous consultants at work told me there was a term for this. Something to do with higher-brain thinking, or something like that. Supposedly its a sign of intelligence (ah yes I am flattering myself). Well, anyway - it works.
And yet, I still find myself shrivelling and curling up and wanting to hide under the covers when the next CPTSD layer is unlocked.
This time? Grief. Grief at what never was, what could have been, what was snatched away from me, what was taken and distorted into something horrible, false, oppressive. And anger at the realisations of all that I lived with that did not need to be there that made me continue the theme, to snatch things away from myself. Like toxic shame. I am angry that this was used to keep me quiet, to keep my true self at bay for the comfort of those around me.
And...pure devastation. Devastated that I lost my family to dysfunction. That I don't know where my siblings are, that I don't know how their mental health struggles play out and the agony of forcing myself to stay away because jumping in before only brought incomprehensible stress and upheaval into my already fragile psyche.
I've stopped running from grief. I've stopped taking on endless shifts, to keep me busy from it all. I've stopped running around to serve others, in a big to avoid serving myself.
And the silence that is left...is not silent at all. A lot of the time, it feels like I am bleeding pain. That it runs through my veins spreading through my body continuously. A soon as its made its way around once, off it goes again...with another wave of memories and emotional flashbacks.
But.
I'm learning this is not my cue to flee. Or freeze. That I can be still with them. That they have a reason and a purpose to come up. And though it feels awful, they cannot hurt me. They are just like a visitor in the night, wanting to take shelter for a while until the daybreak comes up and they can safely be on their way. Energy just transferring its way through. The dam previously holding them back has burst.

I am ok with being vulnerable a bit more now. I am ok with dualities. I am ok with admitting that I miss and yearn for things that have hurt me. That this is the normal attaching process of a child. That I was never defective. That ending up confused and traumatised was the only logical end process.
I miss them. I miss what was, and what could have been. I miss not missing them.

I don't know how grief plays out. I've only really ever ran from it. But I've learnt you cannot fool it or escape it just because you don't like it.
I've stopped attaching my self worth and validation to achievements. To careers and superficial appearances. Its lonely and quiet here too, another stop in the land of stopping things.
I feel like a chrysalis. I have no real clue what comes next. But, the process can be trusted. I love hope. I will always believe in it. It will forever be that final stronghold, that no-one can seize and colonise.

[holidayay]

Morning thoughts 10/2/26 06:43am
I guess my mind now is focusing on all my disastrous coping mechanisms. Trying to walk through the wreckage and see what can be salvaged, and what simply needs to be completely rebuilt.
Its so extensive and complicated. The fawning. The people pleasing. The over-giving. The not having a solid sense of self to bounce things off. The fear and terror if I stood up for myself, or felt like someone did not like me, or was rejecting me, or criticising me, or being overly concerned with rules like in medical school.
Medical school.
Before that, Law school.
University in general.
How incredibly traumatic I found it....trying to find a healing space in a place where the focus was intended to be education. 
Getting so many endless depressive episodes that would drag on and having no ides how to cope with them beyond smoking, isolating and distracting. And getting into these fantasies and limerance where I could feel safe in imaging I was getting all my needs met through them. It was so horrible. I was so depressed when I was in reality. That I didn't have money, or a support system, or any sort of familial help, no strong sense of self or socialisation or confidence when it came to relationships. 
The only thing I had that gave me any sense of confidence at all was my mind. I knew I could understand things, and pass exams. And that was it. I didn't know how to be kind to myself, how to love myself, who I even was. I was so utterly traumatised...Not to mention the constant nightmares and fried nervous system, the two deaths in the family that I had never really dealt with, ad the raging monster of a trauma that was my relationship with my mum that was based on fear, obligation, guilt and shame.
I feel like I was - am - so broken. Well, maybe a bit less broken now. 
How I wish I could turn back the clock and hug that poor girl who was just trying to figure it all out, alone and broken by shame and grief. 
I understand now why my false self can no longer continue as she was. The exhaustion of carrying it all, constantly, showing up ONLY in that space, was so taxing. There was no room or safety for my vulnerability and pain that had grown into a screaming beast inside of me. Screaming and shouting at nighttime, when the consciousness of the false self would be switched off, when the traumatised girl that lived inside me could finally get a say and try to communicate with me.
She is still trying to do this, to this day. The extreme intensity of it all has been slowly picked at; processed and dealt with slowly over time. My relationships have changed. My friendships have changed. My communication has changed. My resources have definitely changed. I now advocate for myself more readily, ask for help more readily, show up (a little bit) more readily. Of course, its all in its infancy. But, its there. 
The workplace, I've found my stride. I've learnt I can show up in a way that protects my empathy from burnout, set boundaries and express myself more confidently. Maybe because there's a bit more of a framework there to work from. However, I still find myself experiencing a tonne of shame when I show up to social situations where I don't know people well. And where, well, there is less of a formal framework and showing up is largely down to you...based on who YOU are.
And I am so scared of rejection there still....
I didn't used to be so much, in my 20s. I had my sister and my best friend. Maybe I didn't feel the fear because I was shielded from having to show up in my real self, because they dominated the space with their wants and needs. They're both gone now. Well, gone from my life. They both rejected and abandoned me when I couldn't hide my pain (real self?) any longer. I showed it to them in 2018/19 and they didn't want anything to do with it. There was some back and fro - especially with my sister - where it felt like a process of trying to see if I could get back in line, and pick up the same role I always did. Support, help, give, give, give and don't demand anything in return. Take care of yourself by yourself...and me - that's what the negotiation period felt like from her. 
My friend on the other hand, saw my pain and was more abrupt. 'Why did you show up if you knew you would feel anxious?', 'if you feel like this, clearly whatever therapy you had wasn't working so why aren't you doing something else?'...as if I had any answers when I felt the most broken I'd ever felt. It was quick; I was unceremoniously dumped and no longer invited to anything - no longer welcome at the birthday parties, the new year's eve parties, the holidays...
My therapist said it perfectly; these two rejections was like adding a searing hot rod into the incredibly painful mess that was my internal emotional landscape. For years, the pain of them felt brutalising and oppressive. Even now, going onto 7 years later, and I can relapse into the murky quicksand of pain when I think of them. Usually when I'm at my most tired, helpless or triggered. The quinttessential beauty of CPTSD; was there anything invented that was ever more apt for the phrase ' the gift that keeps on giving' than CPTSD?
But amongst all this, there is and has been beauty. There is my cat, who I got in 2020. Who loves cuddles and scratches and is gentle and sweet. My partner who is reliable, consistent, sturdy and kind. Who knows when I've had a bad dream and who reaches out for me in those moments of vulnerability, instead of pushing me away. My friend W, who never falters in showing up, whether I am happy or sad. Who invited me to her wedding in 2023, even though I had only known her less than a year, at a time when my ex best friend had left me out of hers, and who insisted I give a speech, even though I felt undeserving and only worthy of being ostracised. Or my other friend who recently travelled over an hour to come see me and hold my hand as I shared with her the darkest details of my bad dreams and torturous pain.
The pain from the people who are bad for us is loud, cold and engulfing; the healing of the good ones is a gentle whisper, that comes in calmy and spreads its warmth slowly. That's what I've realised. Our task here is to learn how to shut out the loud, and how to listen carefully to the good. 
That's what I'm trying to do. I'm still learning how, in all honesty. Its hard. It's bloody difficult. But its possible.