CEN

It was only in 2018 that I discovered I struggled with CPTSD. Most of my adult life I believed I was reacting to my mother's physical abuse. The idea that childhood emotional neglect is equally--if not more--damaging floored me. Really? Is the thing that I've been fighting my entire adult life actually... invisible?

I have posted here about finding new language for CPTSD as it is so unrecognized that it's near impossible to talk about. So many other "mental illness" conditions spring from Complex PTSD--often developed from longterm childhood impacts. Traumatologist John Briere suggests, "“If the role of dysfunctional parenting in adult psychological disorders was ever fully recognized as CPTSD, The Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (used by all mental health professionals) would shrink from a large dictionary to a thin pamphlet.”

Let that sink in for a minute.

Some survivors have suggested they would never talk about it--perhaps because it's too painful, that no one understands anyway or that it's private. I urge you to consider this:

--As a child of the 80s-90s, the LGBTQ community was not largely recognized. Many of these people hid their identities for fear of ridicule, inability for loved ones to understand and accept their reality and the world did not have a language for talking about and recognizing them. We do now.

--Drug and alcohol abuse is an intensely personal and private journey stemming from issues that are not understandable or visible just by looking at the symptoms of addiction. There is an AA meeting in just about, if not every, city in America. There is community, support and a language for sufferers to gather. We need this.

--Cancer is a topic we put on stage--in national fundraisers, community and workplace support groups with physical products and symbols we can wear to show support. This is an intensely private journey that, if you do not have it, you may not be able to full understand. And yet people of all walks of life--with or without the illness--talk about it. We need this.

These are just three examples of how it's possible to turn a neglected, unknown and invisible topic into a world where it's okay to suffer from CPTSD--and still belong, and still feel seen and have the tools to have dialogue that can help you.

I encourage anyone who is on their journey to discovering, working on and healing from Complex PTSD to use your voice for all of us.

#ComplexCPTSD #CPTSD #Childhood #Trauma #Childhoodemotionalneglect #CEN #complexposttraumaticstressdisorder

Someone in my family told me recently that she doesn't want to dwell on the past--as a way to not so subtly tell me to stop talking about our family dysfunction. In other words, they want to avoid the truth and color it with more dysfunction--this inability to say what it really is, feel how it really does.

There is a wall between us. The few people in my family that I still speak with think I should not discuss our history and move forward. I am sure that it's not possible to simply unwire the changes in my brain caused by longterm childhood physical abuse and emotional neglect. It's not a "mood" I'm in; it's the mind and body that developed as a result of environmental impact of my home life. This is the skin I'm in for life.

Instead, I believe we must move through life mindful of what makes us who we are, do our best to adapt, find self-acceptance as much as acceptance from others. It burns me that I can't shed my childhood, but, in truth, can anybody? We are a product of our experiences, like it or not, good or bad. We cannot shut out the past to build anew. It comes with us, inside us.

Please share your point of view.

#CPTSD #ComplexPTSD #familydysfunction #emotionalavoidance #CEN

#Childhoodemotionalneglect

#Childhood #Trauma

Mother's Day is the worst holiday for kids with #CEN . How can I honor or say nice things about someone who neglected me emotionally? She was never meant to be a mother. I'm glad I was born and I've never tried to change that (well at least not officially). Having #BipolarDisorder with #RapidCycling makes it fun when I'm manic and sometimes I have done some irrational things. My birth father left when I was a baby so he was no help and my step father had a baby with my mother when I was nine who became Daddy's little girl. No place for me.

So now when I stand in front of the Mother's Day cards and read them and none of it is true...what do I do? I bought a generic card and a Gift Card to the grocery store. Thankfully I have a Mother-In-Law and a great Wife who are great mothers, at least I can celebrate with them.

As a child I was depressed, angry, anxious, happy (although I don't remember any of that emotion), and sometimes just emotionally drained. She did nothing to help me. She did nothing to treat me. What kind of mother does that? At least my wife was smart enough and caring enough to make me get help and the right help.

I left the house at 17 and went to college and for a year, never looked back. It wasn't until my 30's that I even found out I had Bipolar Disorder. Maybe if she had cared enough to get me real help things would have been different between us. Anyone else have this kind of situation?

so.. today was a good day for me. nothing in particular happened but it was a good day. my mind and body felt calm. i had energy. i was dancing around at work I wasn't in a great mood. but I wasn't sad. I wasn't meh. I smiled. I didn't overthink anything I didn't over analyze. until... until I realized I was having a good day.then it hit me. this is gonna suck. good days are harder than bad day. bad days you can always go up. there are the good days to look forward to. but good days. u just know they won't last. u want to hope and maybe even think this will kast. that ur brain is learning to function better. the work ur doin is helping. ur getting better. but the good days dont last.. maybe a few days at most. you know something is going to happen to upset you. bring you down
days like this almost suck. they are so bittersweet. I like me on these days.i miss this me. I almost forget this me exists outside of days like this. I wish I could be this way more. it sucks bc the bad days will show up. I want to be normal. God how I want normal. I hate knowing somwthing so small and stupid will make me spiral and get depressed and make me not this person. good days are harder than bad. I'd rather just stay content forever. not happy. not sad. no good day no bad days. just days #childoftrauma #BPD #CEN #whycantibenormal

Avoidance of life, I tend to avoid participating in, well , anything. Why? It’s all way too much. For many years I believe I was unscathed by the events I had experienced in my adolescence starting from birth or even prenatal. I learned the opposite when my Mother In Law died, suddenly, of a fentanyl overdose. I consider it poisoning because she was not aware of it being present. Well, this deep pain opened a threshold I was not prepared for. It felt as if I ripped open and flipped inside out. I am not who I thought I was.
My behaviors and habits have a clear connection to my trauma and abuse. Who knew? I only refused to, Order food, speak in groups, I was compulsive about clothing, full of rage and violent behavior , obscene amount preparation and perfection... on and on.
Nothing shows you the truth like a true mental break.
I was numb for so long. As a younger person I was a wrote and acknowledged for it, a painted and deeply invested. Slowly that all faded away, I was numb and detached.
Cheers to this painful experience that connected me to my inner thoughts and feeling. I love you but love is not easy.
#CPTSD #Depression #Anxiety #Trauma #ChildAbuse #CEN #SexualAbuse #abandonment #narcissisticabusesurvivor #narcissiticmother

My therapist and I are digging down to figure out where some of my distorted thinking comes from. It keeps ending up with very early trauma. I had no parental connection at all when I was a tiny baby (preemie, my mom even took me out of the hospital early against medical advice, and when I stopped crying, she though I was just an easy baby, when I was really giving in to the knowledge that I was never going to get the emotional connection that I needed).

This emotional neglect throughout my life caused me to be suicidal by the age of 8, to not connect with friends, to live with the knowledge that I needed to overachieve at everything I did just to be acceptable, and that any tiny mistake that I made would become a huge problem.

I learned to be ashamed of my anxiety, and that I was not special or deserving of anything.

I guess I just wanted to say that #Childhoodemotionalneglect has ruined every single part of my life, and even though most people don’t know what it is, it is one of the most harmful forms of abuse. #Depression #Anxiety #ObsessiveCompulsiveDisorder #Selfharm #Suicide

I’m trying to find people with the same experience that I had because I’m struggling.

Dear myself,
I don’t really know what you’re fighting right now. I don’t really understand what you’re struggling against. I just know it feels hard.

I know you’re not used to hearing from me. I’m not used to speaking to you either. Both of us distrust each other.

The world waking up outside the train window is so bright. I know you don’t really feel like a part of it. You’re struggling on the boundary between feeling and not feeling, trying to disappear as much as you can, taking refuge in books and fantasies and fatalism.

I’m sorry that I don’t know how to validate you and tell you it’s okay. I’m sorry that I don’t often try.

I know you feel weak. I feel weak carrying you. And I can’t explain why. I’m sorry that I don’t know.

I keep thinking of being a little braver, of letting go of grief, of letting go of the need for numbness, of announcing my place in the family of things.

You keep thinking maybe you could stop thinking that it’s hard and stop holding us back.

But you know what, I’ll hear what you have to say when you need to say it. You don’t have to be afraid.

I know having faith in myself and encouraging myself has always felt uncomfortable for me, but I know I can try. It doesn’t have to be hard.

Sometimes it’s just a matter of looking out the window, listening to yourself, and deciding to make things better. #keepgoing #CEN