It's been one heck of whiteknuckle ride and still is! A big Hello.

[stevemac]

When I was a young boy, I would sit alone amongst gently swaying long grasses driven by the summer breeze. Above, the clouds would often be heavy, grey and cobalt, separated by seams of platinum and flecks of azure blue. The sighs of the wind through the grass and the changing stormy light my only company. I would come to this place to ask why? I would come to this place to re-establish my grip on my sanity and my self. It saved me I think, in view of the relentless horror of my existence.   

Fifty years later, I walked my dog's around our local fields this morning, far away from that place. Amongst the long grass at one edge, there is a area where the grass does not grow.  I sat down as usual. Now I know why, but now the horror has worsened as so much has manifested itself. Sitting at the edge of this field helps to repell the relentless horror of my existence.

The past was unbeknown to me in my former fractured and disjointed life. That was until three years ago when I had the 'final straw' moment with my primary parent and abuser.  Then, in a horrific kaleidoscope moment which continues to this day, pieces of jigsaw images, recollections and thoughts and memories started to tumble out of the sky into my current and present mind.

I remember exactly the moment, the floor of the living room started to turn velvet black. It spread from under my feet and covered the floor quickly, climbing the walls around me. Like a dark quick sand, the light was being blacked out and I could feel myself losing conciousness and sliding somewhere else. The darkness spread up through my feet and legs, moving up my torso also, I was slipping and losing my mind.

Then there was a gold flash. I was holding onto a chair, I hadn't realised. Panting and breathing deeply, I could not draw enough air into my lungs. Back again in my suroundings my fear was tangible and as my partner entered the room, she gasped at the site of my gaunt, sweat covered panting and stooped broken figure.


My first panic attack. Its an art to feel that vertigous creature stalking you, or moving closer to attack, only for you to head it off using an un-formed technique. It happens now and again. The startling realisation of facts and the odd dis-jointed feelings of remoteness to your new-found existence. Odd to feel so distant and disinfranchised from you home and family and loved ones.

Crikey!



Anyway, I have never talked to anybody about my experiences properly. So I thought it would be interesting to discuss c-ptsd.

Hello.

[stevemac]

Thanks for that, I will try to find a thread which is suitable for where I am.  Treatment in the UK is non existent. You are more likely to be dosed up on Sertraline and kept as walking wounded.  Then, you are subject to our humiliating, degrading and vicious social security and benefits system if you cannot work. Some choose suicide, (One of the UK's growth sector's) others sink further into despair.

I will write on.  Steve.

[Kubali]

Hello stevemac

I think I must be in a similar place to you.

I can relate to the sertraline and benefit system! I live in the uk too. Last year I decided to come off sertraline and change to mirtazapine. Like you say a white- knuckle ride. It was *. Then I thought that I would stop meds all together and see what lay underneath. Fear of DEATH is the short story.

Started taking anti-anxieties. It's been rough. Got a PTSD diagnosis finally. Been waiting 20 years for the truth. However my therapist says I have CPTSD. The PTSD relates to an attack by a knife-welding manic. The CPTSD relates to my abusive FOO.

So I "get it" I feel great compassion for those of us who are grievously wounded. And that includes you.

Kubali

[stevemac]

Cheers and thank you for your reply.  I stopped taking sertraline because I felt so dissociated anyway and I wanted to feel more grounded.  It has not been easy and still is not. Sometimes, i feel as if I am slipping and have no doubt that I would have taken my own life many times over the past few years. The only thing that has stopped me is because I now have my dogs who I care about dearly and my partner who I love as much as someone like me can.

I was given the last rites by a consultant and was so disappointed when it transpired I had sarcoidosis, which had mimicked Lymphoma perfectly, with enlarged mediastan glands, three pints of fluid in one lung lining and something else that confirmed cancer and a certain death. Supposedly!

I often describe my current state as someone who would be just learning to walk again after three years, if this was a physical injury. I wish it was. I wish it had been. It's difficult to talk to anyone about because it is so misunderstood. I remember reading the drop down list of symptoms for the first time after disclosure. Every symptom read like excerpts from my life. As the memories of violence and self harm, near death and erratic behaviour came back, i had tears for myself for the first time in my life.

How can you forget getting drugged and raped when you are a small boy. How can you forget seeing your beloved pet dog being kicked to death in Front of you when you are ten by your mothers boyfriend?  I don't know, the previous poster suggested that I have a firm grip on my sanity. All I can say is that quite often that grip becomes very weak indeed.


I feel for you trying to get your diagnosis. Usually they make you wait for so long for anything just in case you might die, or simply drop off the radar. Mental health care in the UK is at best a joke and at worst an abomination. I'm sorry if I seem negative but I'm sick of sticking plaster therapies and under qualified councilors.

Steve.

[Kubali]

Stevemac

Your life sounds unbelievably difficult. Probably an understatement! It's understandable utterly that you should feel as you do. It's alien to so many of us to have a 'healthy' attitude to life. What the * is that. It's not in our memory or experience. So I get it that you feel as if you are learning to walk again. I get it about the desire for a visible physical injury. At least that way we can see what we are dealing with instead of groping blindly in the dark.

I have dogs. They are my therapy and the biggest healing tool I have. Beagles full of energy, character and too clever by half. Without them I would be dead. Took a serious overdose 12 years ago. Fortunately/unfortunately I was found and police dragged me off to hospital. There are times when I wrestle about this. I am not afraid of dying. I am afraid of being attacked.

I am in a better place now. I re-married and re-located. Got a decent therapist. There's a nature reserve opposite so I spend a lot of time there with my dogs. I read my history and spiritual books and wrestle with my demons. But I am safe now. That's real at last.

I don't have any glib answers. It's bloody unfair. Just trying to manage my symptoms. I'm an HSP introvert and an Empath. Makes life deeply uncomfortable. I need a lot of space and alone time. I don't have friends. My choice. Just acquaintances. Again my choice.

Kubali