Complex Post-traumatic Stress Disorder

Hi Mom,

It’s me again. I tried calling a few times last week. I know I’m not allowed to call on Sundays because those are your days.

I just wanted to tell you how i really feel lately. When I do get you on the phone, you rush off because you are tired. I miss you. You are the only one who has known me for my whole life who still has any contact with me. I try to not annoy you, but you’re the last thing that ties me to my childhood.

I don’t know what I did to make it so I was the least favorite. You made comments everyone knew weren’t jokes about Anthony being the favorite. I tried really hard to make you proud. The worst I ever did was refuse to call your husband my stepfather. You tell me it’s because I believe in fairy tales and think step parents are evil. At 30 years old i pointed out that it was actually because he was abusive and has never treated me respectfully. I understand that it’s the story you tell yourself.

I don’t think you and I have the same measures of success. I worked really hard while going to college. I was the first of your children to graduate high school, college, and graduate school. I moved out at 19, the earliest of your children, proving I could be independent; even though you wouldn’t let me take driver’s ed like my other siblings. Someone else taught me to drive when I was 18 and I got my license. I worked full time while going to school, but you forget to mention that part when you talk about what your children have done, only mentioning Anthony working. I was the planner and organizer of the shared custody between you and dad when I was young. Dad bought me a pager so he wouldn’t have to call the house. Do you remember when we all had corded phones and voice mail boxes? And pay phones! I remember those from the mall. I would ask if you’d pick me up but sometimes you’d forget and fall asleep and I’d have to walk home late at night a few miles. It kind of scared me then. I was always so anxious. Did that make me problematic? You always called me a crybaby.

I wish we celebrated my birthday. I know we did a think with the extended family. But I wish we celebrated it as a family. I wish you didn’t give me a card saying you’re sorry but you’re going to bingo instead of spending the evening with us. We were left alone a lot. If Amber watched us- I knew I would be hurt- emotionally or physically. If she wasn’t, that meant I was in charge. The hardest part was trying to find food to eat. Sometimes you left us money so we could walk the several blocks to the Burger King or cross the busy intersection for breadsticks. Anthony got hit by a car when we crossed it. I was so scared. You were at work. I locked myself in the bathroom because I didn’t know what to do. I was still so young. Looking back at it now- I was too young for that responsibility. You got home from the hospital but I don’t remember us talking about it. We never really did talk.

There were years when I wanted to have a relationship with you and you never answered or called me back. When I lived somewhere else for 15 years, you only took the 3.5 hour road trip three times- when I graduated the first time from grad school, my wedding, and when I needed to move to a different apartment after the DV. It made me sad that even though you traveled for work, often through or by the city I lived in, I wasn’t worth the time because, again, you were tired.

You and Amber got close when she had kids. Those kids brought us all a little closer for a few years, until she started using them as pawns to control all of our behavior. I was the first to go no contact. My oldest niece, your granddaughter, is the second. If I had children like I wanted to before my health and stability was taken from me, would we be closer? Would that make you value me more?

I know you tried so hard, Mom. I recognize it and feel emotional every time I think about how you didn’t get the opportunities to pursue your dreams. I think about all of the things you lost. Instead you worked two jobs while trying to make ends meet. I never understood if the second job was to pay the bills or to pay for you to gamble, drink, and smoke. Either way- I understand. Life was hard. Life is hard.

I just wish we could talk sometimes. I tell you that you are my only connection to my past. But you’re tired. I am too. I am too. I want to tell you about my life but I know I only get a few minutes every couple of weeks or so, and you don’t want to hear much from me. But I’m struggling. It was really scary for a lot of years. I lost a lot of people, mom. People you still get to talk to. I wish you defended me when I was a child. And as an adult when I wasn’t there to defend myself.

When I was homeless, these feelings got really intense. I needed someone who I could talk to. I was so scared and hemorrhaging support. You didn’t like to hear about my circumstances. You didn’t want updates. You really never have wanted them. I don’t think I lived up to what you wanted for me. I’m not sure if you ever really had dreams for me.

I won’t ever say this to you. One time you asked me if you were a bad mom. I told you no. I wasn’t lying. I think you did your best. It still hurts, but that is life. You’re not supposed to be perfect. I still have a hard time seeing how my childhood connects to the symptoms I have now. I’m working on it in therapy though.

I miss you. And I love you. I tried really really really hard. I’m sorry if I failed. Maybe you’ll answer the phone next time I call you. I promise it won’t be on a Sunday.

#ComplexPosttraumaticStressDisorder

Hi.

I am currently working on learning to relax.

Like truly learning to LET myself relax. This isn’t about the skills. I know “what to do.” My brain just doesn’t let me.

I just recently found out that I “likely have POTS” and I have had chronic migraines for years (currently disabled ). I just kept doing stuff because I didn’t want to miss out on living my life and being outside. This is the first summer I’m trying to listen to my body and stay out of the heat until I really know what’s going on and what works to manage symptoms enough so I don’t flare up. But it’s hard for my adhd and panic attacks.

The thought challenging of that guilt or sadness about missing out is really hard. I know it won’t be this way forever, but it’s hard right now.

#AutonomicDysfunction #PosturalOrthostaticTachycardiaSyndrome
#Agoraphobia #PanicDisorder #ADHD #ChronicVestibularMigraine #Migraine #ComplexPosttraumaticStressDisorder

I didn't choose to heal; it chose me.

I remember the moment I cut the cord from my parents, and it was scary and liberating. Not knowing how they would initially react, I was pleasantly surprised and heartbroken at their lack of outreach and misunderstanding. It's like they were waiting for this moment to happen. The longer I went without speaking to them, I began to realize the cold, hard truth that they didn't care at all.

Free from their grip, I began to spiral down a dark hole inside my mind of forgotten memories. I've lost count of how many times I've wanted to give up on that darkness. How many times I've told myself it's too hard, too painful, too much. But somehow I'm still here. Still trying to fulfill my purpose in this life.

I come from a lineage of people who survived by numbing, by silencing, by pretending nothing happened. So I came to this world to break all cycles, the ultimate generational curse breaker. It's literally in my birth chart. I felt a strong purpose since I was seven years old. I'm a firm believer that we choose our parents and the hardships we endure. I will clarify that we didn't sign up for exactly what happened; free will is truly a scary concept. I'm here to break the cycles of abuse, neglect, trauma, addiction, honestly, all of it.

All of the abuse I've been through, the neglect, the sexual abuse, emotional and verbal abuse has affected me in various ways. I'm emotionally intelligent, but my emotions explode because I was never taught how to regulate. I'm learning now. I stopped giving my body to random men well over ten years ago. Always searching for something that wasn't there or trying to fill the void of pain and loneliness. Teaching myself to be kind, not just to myself, but to others as well. Creating strong, healthy boundaries, learning to say no. The most challenging of them all: addiction.

I didn't start smoking cigarettes until the day after my 18th birthday, being peer pressured into it. I continued to smoke cigarettes until I was 31 years old and quit cold turkey. I started drinking the summer after high school, under peer pressure, to fit in with my friends, and I found an outlet. A way to cope with things that I didn't remember. I felt lost but found. There was smoking of cannabis during this time. I preferred smoking over drinking, but this was before it was legal in my state to purchase cannabis. I drank heavily for the next 8 years, always searching for someone to connect with on a physical level, but nothing beyond that. When I said the healing journey chose me, this is what I mean; in September 2015, I was at a wedding with some friends, and I had been drinking. Later in the evening, I got a migraine. My first ever, and that was the turning point in my life.

It was a glamorous journey. I struggled to be sober. I struggled with staying home on the weekends, not being able to be at the bar with friends. Who were not friends, just people that happened to be drinking at the same watering hole. It honestly wasn't until after the New Year that I started to make real changes. I saw a doctor, I went on depression meds, and started practicing Yoga once per week. I spent the next few years physcially detoxing from all the crap I put in my body. I changed my diet, tried to sleep more, exercise, etc. I felt like I was walking up an icy mountain, not really making any progress but still trying. Mainly because I was still living with my parents at this time. Still under their abusive manipulation. I had no idea what I had just started.

I did quit drinking. My mom was an alcoholic, so that's an easy no for me. She killed herself three years ago. That's another story, for another time. I did, however, utilize the fact that at the beginning of 2020, marijuana became legal in my state. It was a godsend. Marijuana helped me cope and process over the next 5 years, and now here I am present moment, writing this out and struggling to let go of my edibles. My body is rejecting them, just like my body was rejecting alcohol. I crave the numbness, the release, but my heart says no. It's an internal battle that I keep to myself, wishing to be sober, but the bridge to get there is burning, itchy cravings that are the hardest part to get through.

I'm at the end of my numbing journey. I now know that I don't need it anymore. It's the in-between the old and the new, learning to cope with new techniques. I now choose healing not because it's easy, but because I'm tired of pain being the only legacy I carry forward. I refuse to be like either of my parents. I won't let my story end the same way. I also know deep in my soul that I am meant to help bring great change. It may feel like to end is all around, but I have hope that this is the downfall that we all need. Whether that's on your own personal journey or in the current state of our world. The old must be exposed before the new can be accepted.

Even if you're the first in your family to choose healing, even if no one claps for you, your choice matters. You matter. And you're not alone.

#MentalHealth #change #CPTSD #healingjourney #soberiety #choices #TraumaRecovery #AddictionRecovery