childhood

Do you also have the feeling that no matter how hard you try, no matter how successful you are, the amount of money you have, good health, therapy...that you will always feel empty, like something is missing ? And that the piece will never be found and that you may just as well give up ?

Depressions, anxieties, and childhood traumas apart, whatever they are...I feel like there is something I will actually never recover from. It is a certain feeling that is very hard to express with words. I don't think I will be able to talk about it with my psychiatrist, and yet I should try because it causes me so much sadness.

It is a feeling of extreme nostalgia, I feel like a child that's been put in an adult body with no instruction manual. I can't seem to fonction like people of my age. I don't look and I don't act like people my age. I constantly live in the past, remembering childhood memories every day all day since I've hit my 20's (now 24). Almost like a prison sentence, like the child is still there. I even began to collect objects/toys from my childhood.

I miss this so bad, I had my environnement, my surroundings, my friends, I just can't seem to let it go...

The reality of adulthood is shocking to me.

I constantly feel like each day bring me closer to my end ? I don't my futur past the end of the week. Everything must happen so fast now, and I struggle to keep track, I feel so behind compare to everyone. It's near impossible for me to create any form of relationships. My reality now is dull, boring and lonely. And If even as a grow older, I begin to slowly tick more boxes (good work, good situation, mariage even...), I don't think that I will ever get rid of that feeling, and It will be all just pretending to be "normal".

I want to thank the few people that might read this. I am also curious to know if this feeling is familiar to some of you.

#Depression #nostalgia #Childhood #Trauma #Anxiety #MentalHealth #sa

Phew! I do not intend to offend anyone, but I believe in the Lord and he is using this TBI recovery time to uproot deep tiers of childhood trauma!!!👍!!!

Hey, when you can cry about the hell you have walked through that IS a sign of being healed. And I shed a serious amount of tears today! The hardness is melting. A softening is occurring. Emotions ARE supposed to be expressed:

When happy you smile.
When hurt you cry.

Being taught to not cry “or else I’ll give you something to cry about” is abuse, in my opinion. But communication is how you talk the tears away; using caring words and an expressed form of verbal compassion.

To other adults who have been programmed to absorb abuse, as I was, I invite you to do yourself a favor: cry. It’s okay. ❤️!

#tears are necessary.
#Crying brings healing.
Release the #CPTSD #Trauma .

Photo credit: dreamstime.com - flowers flourishing as the water drops; showers of water brings growth. And a lack of falling water for all forms of life produces drought stricken dry brittle soil, or as my auto-correct keeps spelling, soul. Get it???

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

Does anyone keep a journal to help with your healing? I’m starting one, I’ve found so many prompt and page ideas. I believe it will be a really good step in my healing journey.

Happy Friday, friends! The incredible Ada Limón was recently named the 24th Poet Laureate of the United States, so I wanted to share one my favorite pieces of hers with all of you. Limón is no stranger to chronic illness, and I think this poem speaks to some of the experiences of being a child (and adult!) with any type of illness. It's also a nice reminder of the power of community, caregivers, and supportive loved ones. Thank you, fellow Mighties, for helping to keep me dry.

The Raincoat

When the doctor suggested surgery

and a brace for all my youngest years,

my parents scrambled to take me

to massage therapy, deep tissue work,

osteopathy, and soon my crooked spine

unspooled a bit, I could breathe again,

and move more in a body unclouded

by pain. My mom would tell me to sing

songs to her the whole forty-five minute

drive to Middle Two Rock Road and forty-

five minutes back from physical therapy.

She’d say, even my voice sounded unfettered

by my spine afterward. So I sang and sang,

because I thought she liked it. I never

asked her what she gave up to drive me,

or how her day was before this chore. Today,

at her age, I was driving myself home from yet

another spine appointment, singing along

to some maudlin but solid song on the radio,

and I saw a mom take her raincoat off

and give it to her young daughter when

a storm took over the afternoon. My god,

I thought, my whole life I’ve been under her

raincoat thinking it was somehow a marvel

that I never got wet.

poets.org/poem/raincoat

#MightyPoets #Poetry #Scoliosis #ChronicIllness #Parent #Caregiver #Childhood