I'm Dee, a 63 year old widow, Now I know if suffer from CPTSD...

[Deidre502]

First, I am a 63 year old woman who lost my husband just over 2 years ago.  He was sick for 2 ½ years, battling lung cancer.  I worked over 50 hours most weeks, and fit in taking care of him and getting him to all his doctor appointments in NYC (75 miles away). I am finding that the second year is harder than the first.  I am in a constant funk, and therapy and medication hasn't lifted me out of it.  I found your channel and dove in.  I joined your membership, and wish I could attend your NC weekend coming up.  With the help of your videos, I came to realize that I was suffering from CPTSD (since I felt that I had dealt with the grief and there was no mental change).

Some background on my childhood.  My mother and father met and married in their mid-thirties, and my younger brother and I were both born into chaos.  We lived with my mothers mother.  My dad was a happy-go-lucky guy.  My mother was dominant, domineering, strong, and was terrible to him.  She wore the pants.  He had difficulty holding down a job, but was a loving father.  They had a few separations over the years.  He ended up having a nervous breakdown or two over the years.  We were raised like little adults.  I was my mothers confidant.  I was told many things, such as "your father is having an affair and that's why he isn't here", when I was around 5.  I was my brothers caretaker and protector.  Honestly, my mother didn't have a clue of what to do with babies or children.  I remember clearly, a time when I was about 4 ½ and my brother was about 1 1/2, when he was cowering behind me, grabbing my leg, crying.  My mother was yelling, "I don't know what he wants!!"  I remember calmly saying, "he wants water, Mommy..."  And so it began, my life of co-dependency and caretaking.

She taught us to disrespect our father.  She was horrible to him, and we were groomed to treat him horribly as well.  Neither one of them worked a regular job.  My grandmothers house had a couple of rental units, including an apartment in the basement.  When my mother realized she should get a job, her mother told her, "you have young children; your place is at home with them."  Back at that time (mid to late 1960s), you could have veterans placed in your home and you got paid room and board.  Kind of like having foster children, but these were crazy, unstable, elderly men.  It was chaotic at best.  I had flashbacks at the age of 25, that I was sexually abused by one of them when I was no older than 4 or 5.  That experience caused me to gain a ton of weight (started gaining by 2nd grade) and by HS age, I was over 200 pounds.  I rarely went to school.  There was no discipline, schedule, or structure in our home.  My brother fared somewhat better; one of the other vets used to stomp on his toes which resulted in endless ingrown toenails and other painful results of that.

By the second grade, I remember telling my mother, "don't worry, Mommy, you can stay in bed and I can get myself ready for school and catch the bus."  So I did that, because many days she was too depressed to get out of bed.  After her death in 1991, I read a journal and i wasn't surprised to find out that she had been sexually abused by an uncle of hers.  No one stepped up to protect her; it was swept under the rug.  In my repressed memory, I remember her walking into the room as I was being abused, and she said "what's going on?"  But nothing was ever done.  I approached her about that when I was 25, and she said "I remember no such thing".

We were given no direction or help in school, decisions for college, or anything else.  We were both smart, but I really floundered.  Honestly, I can't believe that I graduated.  I missed so much school.  I couldn't bare to be out in public bc I was so heavy and unhappy.

At 19, I met a family friend who was 34.  He was unstable, and a Vietnam vet.  He was mentally ill.  I must have thought, "Perfect match!"  I was able to lose over 100 pounds, walking with him.  But the relationship never even involved dating.  It went quickly to sex and marriage.  It lasted 5 years.  He was domineering, and overpowering.  There was verbal abuse.  I went from the frying pan into the fire, getting involved with a co-worker.  He was a raging alcoholic.  Again, I fell right into a relationship without dating or a getting-to-know-you period.  I was so naive and unworldly that I didn't understand what that meant.  So the next 32 years were horrible.  I can't believe I allowed it to continue.  I was the caretaker, the "fixer", the enabler.  Our sex life was non-existent.  Actually, due to my abuse, I have never been able to have a good sexual relationship with either one.  And they are the only two I ever became involved with.  I worked very hard and long hours, because I was responsible for our healthcare, our mortgage, etc.  I found him one afternoon on our front porch, with an empty vodka bottle next to him.  We live in a close neighborhood, and neighbors probably thought he was asleep, sitting their in plain view.  I tried to rouse him, but he was non-responsive.  After calling my brother, his brother, his sister, etc., I called an ambulance.  When they took him to the hospital, his blood alcohol level was .51.  Yes, .51.  The doctor told me that he had only seen one other case with a higher BA level.  It took 4 days to stabilize him.  I spent days trying to find a place for him to go for treatment, hours on the phone with insurance company, etc.  But of course, he refused treatment because he was going to "try to take care of it" himself.  It was at that point, that I spoke to a lawyer for a divorce.  He had numerous DWIs, and had been in jail, and also in rehab facilities.  I was the primary bread winner.  At one point, he lost a job, and did not work for 10 years!  But stupid me, once he started with AA and got serious about stopping, I figured I would take him back and try to make the marriage work.  BIG MISTAKE.  I regret that.  He was diagnosed with lung cancer in December of 2019, and began treatment as lockdown began.  I don't know how I did it, getting him to all his appointments.

I was so ashamed and worried about what I would witness when I got home, that I never had friends over.  I would find him passed out in the fetal position on the kitchen floor, frequently.

[Papa Coco]

Deidre502,

Welcome to the forum. I hope this is a calming place for you to connect with others who can quickly understand the feelings you are going through.

The second year after such a huge loss is, for many, the roughest year. I haven't lost a spouse, but I did find the second year after losing my job of 42 years was absolutely the hardest one. A job is not the same as a spouse, but even so, I went through my deepest funk that second year. In fact, it was the year I sought out and joined this forum also.

I found a lot of friendship here with people who understand the funk. I hope you find connections that help you through yours here also.

Welcome

[RaidahO07]

Dee, welcome. I'm taken back by your story. My heart goes out to you. You've endured so much and have hurt for a long time - I'm so sorry for all that you and your brother went through. I'm sending a big hug.... I hope you stay in connection with us here. 

[Kizzie]

Hi Deidre and a warm welcome to OOTS.  After such a long time struggling it sounds like you could use a safe space like OOTS to share and receive some support. FInding your way here is a kind thing you have done for yourself and I hope that thought seeps in and you give yourself a little hug for taking care of yourself because that's what you've done by finding others who are survivors and get what you've gone through.  Bravo you