Post-Traumatic Growth Journal

[SenseOrgan]

NarcKiddo
Thank you very much for that perspective, your support and kindness. There is a part of me who felt rejected because my instant yes to the group wasn't mutual. The despair that came up was the same that I feel when I am deeply in an EF. Connection, and the ability to make that happen, doesn't exist there. I feel like there are few places where it's safe to be me when I'm at my most vulnerable. A prerequisite. Very few. It took a lot of effort to find this group. There is no alternative that I know of around here. Perhaps it's like knowing which medicine you need, but it's uncertain if insurance will cover it, while paying out of pocket is not in the cards. I couldn't make parental connection happen as a kid, and there was no alternative for it. That's why these and other situations have such an impact. It goes straight to that existential despair, which is the very thing I want to decrease by joining.

I've been in a depression support group for eight years, and indeed a new person can significantly change the group dynamic. That happened quite a bit over the years. It's difficult to strike the right balance between guarding the safety of the existing group, and welcoming new members. I think these guys are doing an excellent job.

sanmagic7
Thanks big time my friend! Yeah, their approach is solid. I told them that this reassures me. It must be challenging for them too, to be in that position, since they are participants themselves.

HannahOne
Thank you for your kindness Hannah. It's a bit odd that this felt like a job interview. In the last bit, I told them that I was quite nervous, and one of them said they felt the same when in my position. It's simply a hurdle to take that can't be skipped. No matter how much I'd like to. I'm confident enough to believe I'll be okay once I can interact with the members. It's just difficult to give them an impression of what I'd be like in that setting. Fingers crossed.




I don't know how to write poetry. Something bubbled up I tried to capture. A note to self. A reminder. It needed more space in between the words than my usual writing. More silence.



Becoming worthy is to not see clearly.
Who you are.

To love you is not something to learn.
It's to see through what obscures.

You can't learn your natural state.
Already whole and complete.

You were born worthy.
You never were not.

Listen.
Remember.

The quiet voice.
Is your own.


Bliss - A Quiet Conversation

[HannahOne]

I think you know how to write poetry.


May you get the medicine you need.

Another poet for you:

Like plants,
the medicine
is everywhere.

--Paul Simon

[sanmagic7]

i think you do, too, SO.  it was a really lovely poem.  thank you for sharing it.

i like your analysis re: more space and silence.  i've written poetry that was loud and raucous. i see poetry as painting by the mind, words being the colors we choose.  everyone's palettes are different.  this was nice.  love and hugs

[Marcine]

Hi SO,
Your poem speaks to me— how hard we all *try* and all the things we *do* to "become" ourselves. As if we aren't already enough...

"... born worthy... Listen. Remember."

Thank you for sharing your writing.

And I enjoyed the music you linked, a beat without tons of hype and with jazz influence.

Am I remembering correctly that somewhere on the forum you mentioned Philip Glass' music?
I am a fan, Glassworks is a classic.

[TheBigBlue]

SO, thank you for putting this into words and for sharing the poem. It carries so much gentleness and honesty. What you're describing makes deep sense - and it's also so hard for many of us. 🤍

[Chart]

 

[SenseOrgan]

HannahOne
Thank you my friend. That bit by Paul Simon is very inspiring. It's how I'd like to go through life with other people in mind.

sanmagic7
Thank you San! I love your inclusive way of thinking. 

Marcine
That's really nice to hear. It's invaluable to be able to communicate about this with you and others here. I consider myself really lucky that I found my way here. There's no way I could do this on my own. And it wouldn't be quite as fun.
Yes, Philip Glass. What can I say? Will a genius and a gift to humanity do? I like his solo piano pieces a lot. Love at first hear for me.

TheBigBlue
Thank you very much for your kind words. We're all essentially in the same boat, aren't we? We'll get there with a little help from our friends, I like to think.

Chart
Right back atcha! 





It's been a while. I'm not exactly sure how it happened that I've been so busy. Right now I'm quite melancholic. Radiohead is the soundtrack for this entry. I think it's time to slow down a bit. Hopefully have a good cry.

Last Sunday was the annual general meeting at the community garden. An event I dreaded ever since it was announced. I had discussed it extensively with wonderful people who gave me great feedback. It helped a great deal to create space around it, and lessen the contraction a bit. And still I kept dreading it. The core issue here, is that I'm afraid to show up. As me. The real version. My survival self feels like a suit that doesn't fit me anymore. I want to drop it. A little bit of a mask, or reluctance, is fine. But it needs to be me who's there, essentially. I want to exist. And I want to connect. Neither of those happen when I'm not there.

It became a big thing for me. My shrink pretty much encouraged me to go, without pushing me. He went quite CBT on me, which, for once in my life, was actually appropriate. I wasn't going to push myself to go, but I felt pressure to attend. It felt rude to not show up. And I didn't join to dodge this kind of thing. I joined to connect. That doesn't mix well with hiding. Sleep had been punishing. I was constantly on the edge of things being too much. It's hard to find the middle way sometimes.

On the dreaded day itself, I was in a conversation with a good friend and discussed the issue again. I lost track of time, and if he hadn't notified me, I would have missed the moment. Connecting with him had reduced my sense of otherness, and somewhat lowered my anxiety [connection is the answer!]. Click. Decision made. Go. Now.

I had to hurry! Upon arrival, I noticed it wasn't too crowded. Even fewer people than I had expected. Sill a good bunch. Entering the community building was scary. Who's going to be there? I'm stuck here now. I sat down somewhere. A bit of small talk with the neighbor's and the volunteers. Nothing too scary. More conversation. Safe enough people. Few. I remained present. Flashes of fear. For blushing. No escape. Memories. So many memories. The social battlefield of my life.

Awareness. I'm sitting here. Being present. I am actually here. I am. Some anxiety, yes. Nothing like it used to be. Shocking. Walking out of the storm. That's what this is. That's what's happening. Connectedness has been corroding otherness. It has been normalizing my self image. In many, many, infinitely subtle ways. It is becoming part of who I am. It lives in me as an okayness, even when I'm in a challenging situation. That's what safely attached people have heaps of, always and everywhere. I know what it's like now.

After the meeting I connected with a board member. I had a few questions and we started chatting. Before I knew it, she asked me if I wanted to write a piece about regenerative agriculture for the community journal. What I felt was interesting. It wasn't terror or shame. The idea didn't scare me. Huh?! More like I don't mind to tell something about what I'm up to here to the other people. What?! I perplexed myself. Since I still want to ease into this community, I told the board member I have some personal challenges and want to take it slow, but I'm up for it at some point.

Just five months ago I joined. I vividly remember the fear I felt every time I set foot on the terrain. Until very recently. It was the others and me. The threat and the threatened. The exposed and the judges. Recently I had my coming out as a no-dig gardener when I requested way more compost than folks around here are used to. A few days ago an acquaintance with a car helped me to get heaps of cardboard to my garden. The other day I finished covering the entire surface with it. 97 m2. It sticks out like a flashing billboard. And I stopped caring what others may think of it. I went all the way and became unapologetic about it. No overcompensation. ME. I don't know how permanent this is. In any case, it's a huge victory for me. And it came much earlier than I had dared to dream.

Stepping out of my ashamed self, into my authenticity, also makes it painfully clear how awful life was all these years. And who caused it. I think I've done the bulk of grieving. Even to the point of embracing the inevitability of all of it. My challenge is to stop hiding and to speak my mind. That's more difficult for me than to suffer in silence. I feel like life is calling me to reclaim the healthy anger that was stolen from me. I did a good bit of that in the past. But much of it is still suffocating under a blanket of shame. At some point I'm going to tell my mother exactly what she has done to me. She's not going to get a free pass anymore. Not with me paying the ultimate price for it. It's crucial that I find my voice, especially there. It'll come. I had flashes of insights. Just no time to capture any of it. Sleep gives me little room to maneuver. I can only spend the time and energy I do have once. I feel awful about disappearing here for bit. It happens sometimes. You guys are on my mind frequently. It's odd that I start to feel a bit of "survivor's guilt" writing these positive experiences. Not that I'm actually out of the storm, but I'm getting a taste of what that must be like.

Oh, yeah. One more thing I wanted to write. Social anxiety doesn't exist. At least not for me. It's yet another way to frame trauma as a character flaw. I'm sure it's not intended that way. But that framework does do that. It's not social anxiety. It's not ahistorical. It's a flashback. How it was. Experienced again. In the present. Every social interaction. Over and over. The same mechanism as the firecracker to the war vet, that does get the acknowledgment it deserves. Those who haven't lived it can't fathom what it's like to go through life as if everyone is pointing a gun at you. Social anxiety almost sounds cute in comparison to what it's actually like. I don't have social anxiety. I'm reliving how I was treated by my mother.

Okay, one last thing. I came out of the night quite grumpy, irritable, and overwhelmed this morning. There were some shelves on offer that I needed, so I went to the store when it opened anyway. I joked a bit with the cashier when I entered. When I got to the shelves, I loaded the only four that were available in my cart. Something that would normally greatly embarrass me. I didn't care. Pushed the thing through the store to get some other stuff. Odd looks from an employee [objectively so]. Didn't care. Then went to the cash register. The cashier made a remark about me taking all the shelves. I joked that it's even worse. That I wanted to buy more. No anxiety. Enjoyment. Great chemistry with her, who was in an equal playful mood. She called someone, who got the extra shelves for me. I joked some more with the cashier and said I was here by bike. I had to leave some here to pick em up later. She was clearly enjoying me joking about the situation and wondering if I was going to pull it off. When I got back, I joked some more with her. Was I actually flirting? Not sure. Anyway, these are the moments when I realize how much better life got.

[Dalloway]

SenseOrgan, I read your latest post with a smile on my face and a joy in my heart. I´m SO happy for you that I can barely put that into words. You write with so much clarity about your experience. I think that acknowledging the possibility that it may not be permanent is one of the hardest things on the healing journey. And yet, I don´t feel hopelessness from your words at all. Being happy for a friend is one of the most awesome feelings ever and that´s how I feel right now, so thank you for that. You deserve to be happy with your authenticity that is the most beautiful gift one can give to themselves and you´re doing that right know, so kudos to you.

And the myth of social anxiety? Wow. You spoke to and from my heart really. As someone who´s been struggling with that my whole life, I felt every word deep in my soul. And you´re perfectly right. It is always a flashback to those scary times in the past when I was in real danger and it doesn´t matter that I´m not in one anymore, my body feels otherwise.

I´m more and more convinced that the key to recovering our whole self is to connect to safe and loving people. Building relationships and/or a community is crucial to heal the wounds of disconnection. I´m glad you´re taking those steps and it´s really awesome to bear witness to that.

Maybe you could pass me your umbrella once you got out of the storm if you won´t need that anymore. 

[TheBigBlue]

    

This made me genuinely happy to read. 🎉🌊
Those moments you describe - finding your voice, reframing "social anxiety" as what it really is, and then living differently in real time - that's huge.
And the store story? That spark, ease, playfulness, not caring in the old way ... that's life peeking through. It absolutely counts, even if the storm isn't over.

Please don't let "survivor's guilt" steal this from you. Sharing these moments doesn't take anything away from anyone else - it gives hope, orientation, and proof that things can shift. You made my day by posting this. Truly. 💛

And yes ... from here, that definitely looked like flirting. 😉
 

P.S.: We all want that ☂️ 😉

[Marcine]

SO, my mind is conjuring all manner of imagining you getting shelves home on your bike
Love it!
So happy for you, friend, for all you're creating, demolishing, building, transporting, and setting down. On your terms

[HannahOne]

SenseOrgan, the image of 97 square meters of soil is incredible. A billboard, announcing... "Hello World"? "I am here"? "I do it My Way"? "Extravagant Energy Found Here"? What does the billboard say?

"Social anxiety doesn't exist," I agree! It's trauma! When it's not safe to exist as a child with caregivers, how can we exist in the wider social world? We can't learn by experience, it's not safe to try and fail, to explore, to be curious.

You were able to find felt safety in Awareness, using all the tools and practices you've been doing all these years. And be present at the meeting.

Curiosity is a sign of felt safety. Frank will not explore if it doesn't feel safe. You were interested in writing an article, curious about it, about publishing, being public in another way.

And claimed what you wanted, shelves, and MORE shelves! Shared your predicament of bicycling with shelves, and had a laugh together with another about the human predicament, the human condition. Aren't we all on a bicycle juggling four shelves? That's connection! You deserve all of that and more and it is yours.

I understand survivors' guilt, I think about it too when I post something positive. When I read your words though it gives me so much hope. Thank you for sharing the positive experiences. It helps so much to hear. It also brings admiration, which is really important. We all have CPTSD. When I can feel admiration for another with CPTSD it helps me realize I'm not SO different. I can admire my own courage, too. If SenseOrgan can do it, I can do it. If I can do it, you can do it. This is one of the many ways we can share healing energy with each other in a safer way, by showing that it can be done, sharing the positives. It's wonderful! And it feels so good to celebrate someone else!    Heck yeah for flirting! Heck yeah for claiming all the shelves and more! Next time, buy up all the masking tape! LOL. Lounge around, take up space. Stare your mother down.

When it's time, you will confront her in exactly the way you need to do it. Hurrah!

[dollyvee]

Wow...all great news SO. Asking for what you need is a way to be seen and, the difficult part for me, is to not take it back for fear of repercussion. It sounds like you arenot self abandoning, but self affirming in uncomfortable situations and seeing who shows up for you and supports you when you do that 

[sanmagic7]

SenseOrgan, I read your latest post with a smile on my face and a joy in my heart.

my smile for you and your experiences is still here, SO.  so much fun in what you wrote.  flirting? maybe? why not? it's one of the most fun things i've found in life. being present, stating boundaries, showing yourself as carefree w/ those shelves.  the shelves story is one for the books.  well done on all fronts!  love and hugs
 

[SenseOrgan]

Thank you everybody. Will respond later. Need to get something off my chest.



TW/mention of suicidality and self harm

My younger sister has three kids. Before they were born, I knew with absolute certainty they would be heavily impacted by their parent's trauma's. An unhinged cluster B father and a dreamy naive mother were fully committed to a fairy tale that could only end up a nightmare. And so it went. It's one of my deepest regrets that I haven't been able to prevent the inevitable. Yes that is an oxymoron. I know there was nothing I could do [I tried my very best], and I know I'm not even responsible. And still I feel this way. I still feel responsible. Because I know. And I knew. But they didn't. And they don't.

After, let's say, fifteen years of destruction, my sister finally ended the relationship and found a place for herself and her children. It was around the time when I entered the picture again, after a five year period of no contact with my whole family. Six years later, my sister told me that she had met another man, which she was very reluctant to share details about. When I met him, I quickly figured out why. However, I didn't know how bad it actually was. That's what I found out when I looked him up online. Long story short, been in prison for a significant time. Hasn't changed his ways since out. I extensively discussed it with friends. Greatly wrestled with the issue, and bent over backwards to find the right words to bring this up respectfully. I was preparing for the Camino, which was stressful in various ways. Something I had been working up to for two years or so.

Finally I talked to my sister. I expressed my concern. Thought we had a good conversation. It didn't take long that it became clear she was going for the fairy tail again though. When I found out, I was already out of the country, close to the start of the Camino. I got very angry that she had learned nothing from all those years, and all she put her children through. So I took some time to come to my senses before responding. She hadn't considered how her life choices affected the people around her, including me. And I did feel justified to express anger about that by stating that I felt angry, and that I had enough of her destructive patterns and choices. The way she responded expressed a complete disrespect for the challenge that I was about to take on. That was the last drop for me. I blocked her, and haven't spoken to her since. I don't know if I ever will again. I had supported her through thick and thin since I got back, and this is what I got. F you!

My first nights on the Camino, early 2024, I was suicidal because of this trigger. I managed to handle that mindfully, and with a few benzo's, and I did find my way into that which I was there for. Connection. It didn't take long before my niece started texting me. Her mother had been taken to the hospital in an ambulance because she collapsed. Her kids witnessed it all and her eldest had dialed 112 [our 911]. She was quickly released from the hospital because it was most likely a panic attack and exhaustion. Apparently soon after this my niece had exploded in rage and her mother had called the police on her. I'd forgive you if you wouldn't believe me if that happened on my nieces birthday. If that wasn't enough, she kicked my niece out of the house right after. The only person she could go to was her narc father. She texted me because there was nobody she knew who could help her. There was no way I was not going to help her the best way I could. So I was doing something that was already very challenging for me, and now I was managing a crisis that wasn't my own on top of it. This was very stressful. I was furious at my sister, and I was determined not to let this ruin my Camino. I only partially succeeded at that. While the others were supported by family and friends, and were having fun and could completely immerse themselves in the experience, I was on the phone with my niece every day, being there for her, while trying to figure out a solution for her terrible situation. Finally a good friend of mine offered that she could stay with her for a bit, which was a big relief. But my Camino had been greatly affected, if it hadn't already by the breakup.

The other day my other niece texted me. She's been struggling with quite serious mental health issues for a while. She told me she had almost been admitted to a psych ward or something like that, due to self harm. I feel similar to when her sister contacted me. Except I'm more concerned about this niece. She's a lot more vulnerable. Her parents don't know anything about trauma, let alone CPTSD. They passed it on because they never faced their shadow. They were never not going to pass all of it on. So this is yet another way that which I knew before she was born manifests. And again I feel responsible. Because I do know and did face what her parent's didn't. I hate to be right about this. And I have been for over two decades now. And still it hits me hard to be confronted with the bitter fruit that escapism inevitably bares. Especially for young people who have nothing to do with it.

There's one aspect about all of this that's very much about me. And that's that I haven't come to terms with my mother passing her trauma onto me because she refused to become an adult. That's part of why this, and all the other family crises throughout the years, gets/got to me. I'm still struggling to find my own words that I never spoke and need to speak, so many years later. How can I ever capture what has been done to me by my own mother in words? Words seem so utterly incapable of expressing what I've been trough. I need words, because that's how I need to express it to the person where it belongs.