emotional abuse

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    Community Voices

    So, had hard day. So much negativity towards me from my mom. I got up and took a walk with my sons girlfriend. I don’t need fucking negativity in my life. I don’t even watch the news because of it. I’m thinking about my childhood I don’t remember ever finding joy or having enthusiasm. I remember stuttering whenever my dad would raise his voice or yell. Later to find out that’s part of #AnxietyAttack . I remember to laying in bed at 5 afraid to go to sleep because I was afraid of dying or afraid my parents were going to die again #Anxiety . My whole life was abuse from 8-12 #SexualAbuse /#Incest . Later on met my X husband #EmotionalAbuse . I’m done venting #MajorDepressiveDisorder #PTSD #GeneralizedAnxietyDisorde

    3 people are talking about this
    Community Voices

    Progress, parental volatility and neglect/isolation as trauma

    Hello. I wanted to post some more thoughts today.

    I was out walking around today and noticed things had changed a bit already. I think it is because I have been coming on here and talking about my past along with the flashback I had. It wasn't really clear to me before that I had never talked about these things so frankly to others who may have experienced similar. Basically, I had only really told friends who hadnt had the same intensity of issues or my ex who was just a blackhole for my emotions to get sucked into.

    It was apparent to me that my deep hatred for what my ex had done to me eased and was replaced with some level of human sympathy. Although I'm still not interested in talking to her, I feel less distraught when thinking about what happened between us. I feel like I am sensing slightly more of my surroundings, like the smell of a particular food near my apartment that I had not noticed before. Another thing that happened is that I could sense more clearly why I had my flashback and it had to do with fears of failure from earlier in my life.

    I had time to think about this fear of failure and realized a lot of it came from particular experiences in my childhood. My mother was a very cruel disciplinarian and often shouted things at me when I failed. At times she would call my a copout who would get nothing done in life with my attitude and that I was headed for failure. I realized the experience of an adult shouting this at me in anger during weak moments of my life took a heavy toll. The intense isolation she imposed on my childhood combined with over a decade of this kind of treatment was likely my initial trauma.

    Thinking about these sorts of ways she treated me makes me realize how diseased her mind really was and is. She stored up all of her discontent with herself and all of her anger, then poured it over me in a wild attempt to "help me". Of course, if she couldn't even come close to helping herself how was she ever going to help me? I began to grow and triage the moment I stopped living with her, and to this day believe that it was the best decision of my life. Thank God that my parents divorced when they did or else I would have lived with her longer.

    It has become apparent to me that I am unsustainably asocial. I spent an enormous amount of time during my formative years alone. When I think back to it, it seems like this endless expanse of isolation. My mother isolated me socially when I was younger due to the chaos of her own mind and her selfishness. Then I spent a long time outside of formal education due to my emotional volatility caused by this. Overall, I was never socialized like most people and spent huge spans of time by myself, thinking.

    To this day it's hard for me to socialize, although I am an empathetic person. Probably too empathetic, and this causes me to be easily used by others. I think being used and abused by my ex was a grievous rewounding that spurred on my recent seemingly PTSD stress responses. It's not a totally bad thing in some sense because now I at least know for sure that something is wrong in my head. However, I just wish it weren't so hard for me to connect with others at this point as it is really holding me back.

    I believe that the isolation of my youth may have been my greatest trauma. Even with how horribly my mom treated me emotionally and at times physically, this devouring void of loneliness and despair seems the most frightening for me to think about. I had more of these flashbacks when my abusive ex and I broke up, and I realized then that there was some kind of trauma in me from being alone. I could feel this creeping, cold fear toward being alone again. When I was young and removed from education I had no one to rely on emotionally. My brother had his own life and my father was simply too calloused from his own trauma. This experience of being totally and absolutely alone, no friends or romantic interests or people to make mistakes along seriously harmed my mind, I think.

    When I think back to this isolation I experienced first with my mom and then essentially with no one, it feels like I'm looking deep into an endless void. It's possible that my mind blocks out the memories of my thoughts and feelings from that time because they are too grim and stressful. I spent all day reading when I could, and the rest of the time I was probably disassociating. Who knows what kind of strange stress hormones and bodily chemicals were coursing through my veins due to this unnatural isolation. My life was like that so long that it was a miracle when I one day got me high school equivalence education and moved on from there some time in my twenties.

    It sounds weird when I put it like that, trauma from isolation. I guess it makes me wonder how someone can even be traumatized by this when usually people have trauma from violence or more direct things like that. However, I really do think it's true. Maybe it is just an unusual way to become traumatized because humans are so social. I was not and still am not that social, though. When I think about my chronic isolation from others, that even includes my adult life, it makes me sad and shameful. It always feels like other people find socializing to be the most natural thing in the world.

    Chronic isolation does something terrible to the mind. Although I have online friends and such these days, I always prefer to recede into my own head. People stress me out and I often don't have a filter or become very tired from physical excitement when around others. I think for a long time my mind blocked out how stressful other people are to me, and I can sense this more clearly these days. Spending so much time by myself and most likely being neglected as a child caused me to get locked up in my own head at all times, which does not seem to have gone away in my adulthood.

    I can't ever seem to stick to the same group of friends or social circle for a long time. Really, I have only had one semi-persistent social circle between my teenage years and adulthood. I never thought about it before, but this is probably a symptom of my mistreatment. It just tends to happen for some reason or another, I become established among some group of people and accepted. Then I find a reason to disconnect from them and delete my social progress. My ex who probably has CPTSD did this in even more extreme ways, but I realize now that it has defined my social life, too.

    It's very likely that these wild swings between isolated neglect and intense emotions that my mother (and father to a far lesser extent) put me through damaged my ability to interpret social reality. I am very sensitive to the emotions of others likely as a survival mechanism to interpret the chaotic emotions of my mother. It is also very likely that these cruel emotions she hit me with as a child extended into my infancy, and I often wonder if this was where her abuse of me began. If that were the case, it would make even more sense how I ended up this way. Of course, I can't remember these things and only have suspicions.

    I really wish I weren't like this and I have to say that I daydream at times about getting emotional revenge on my family. My brother is the only one who tried to protect me from things, although my father tried to make it up to me later in life as well. I don't think that I love my mother and I don't accept most of my extended family as family. I was clearly abused by a narcissistic monster as a child and almost no one did anything about it.

    Although I am glad that I have progressed emotionally as much as I have, I realize that I have been barely holding on for years. It's dangerous for me when the pressure grows as I seek out abusive familiarity or abuse my own body to fill any effort gap. It's simply unsustainable and I need to find a better path forward.

    Thanks and have a good day.

    #PTSD #CPTSD #Abuse #EmotionalAbuse #Trauma #ChildhoodAbuse

    6 people are talking about this
    Community Voices

    Feel love despite your parents

    <p>Feel love despite your parents</p>
    2 people are talking about this
    Community Voices

    Protecting your own mental health

    <p>Protecting your own <a href="https://themighty.com/topic/mental-health/?label=mental health" class="tm-embed-link  tm-autolink health-map" data-id="5b23ce5800553f33fe98c3a3" data-name="mental health" title="mental health" target="_blank">mental health</a></p>
    1 person is talking about this
    Community Voices

    Being raised by a parent with mental illness

    Jennifer Falloon spoke with me about being raised by a mother with mental illness. Jennifer’s mother was horribly cruel and emotionally abusive toward her. Jennifer discusses the effects the emotional abuse had on her and how she began to heal.

    Though emotional abuse is difficult to measure, more children than we could imagine are emotionally abused by their parents or an adult in their life. It’s far too common and the effects of emotional abuse are devastating.

    Listen to Jennifer’s story to learn about how she began to heal from her emotional abuse and how she built strong boundaries with her mother.


    #MentalIllness #MentalHealth #BipolarDisorder #Schizophrenia #EmotionalAbuse #parentwithmentalillness

    Community Voices

    Severe thunderstorm

    <p>Severe thunderstorm</p>
    6 people are talking about this
    Community Voices

    What musician or band have you loved the longest?

    <p>What musician or band have you loved the longest?</p>
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    Community Voices

    What Am I Going to Do?

    He yelled at me this morning. He thought I was asking something I wasn't, and wouldn't let me finish. I stopped trying, and I've been crying off and on ever since. I don't want to go back to the motel, but I have nowhere to go. I can't go to a shelter because of my OCD. I called The National Domestic Violence Hotline, who couldn't help me (this was my 5th or 6th time trying), and they told me to call Medicare to ask for a case worker, but they said they don't do that. They told me to go to findhelp.org, which I'm going to try later. I needed food, so I'm just about finished with my breakfast/lunch/dinner. I don't have much hope, but I'm going to see what's there. I'm a bundle of nerves. How do I get out of this?


    7 people are talking about this

    Here's Your 'Permission' to Change Your Name Due to Trauma (or Any Other Reason)

    Recently, I took a leap forward in my mental health recovery that I’ve deliberated over for a long time. It wasn’t easy; in fact, it took me so long because I’ve been frozen by more than just indecision. I’ve been terrified of how people would react, or the potential bullying that would ensue (even if that bullying was behind my back). You see, around the time I decided to go no-contact with my abusive mother, I decided I also wanted to legally change my name. I’ve never liked my given name. Not only did it never really felt like “me,” but as I got older, it started to be associated with bullying and trauma. In my teens, I started using the shortened form of my birth name, since the bullying made the full version feel juvenile. Yet, my mother still insisted on calling me by the name she gave me. I tried to explain how I didn’t like it, but it didn’t stop her. She only called me by that name I hated, and every time she did, it became another way she stripped away at my autonomy like a sculptor chiseling marble. By the time I realized the severity of her abuse, the name tasted like bile. I’d feel it rise into my throat when I heard it. I’d gag on it when I had to given it to collect medication. Even seeing it became a trigger. My surname wasn’t much better. Though I’ve written often about the love and grief I have for my father, learning more about him after his death somewhat tainted the name for me. It’s a name I associate with the political climate in Northern Ireland and the way this place never seems more than a stone’s throw away from intercommunity violence. Combine that with the way my childhood bullies twisted it with alliterative cruelty, and the family name I once wanted to continue began to feel like somebody else. In short, I needed to change. I needed to become me. It took a long time and a lot of fear. Only a few people knew I wanted to change my name, and from them, I was almost seeking “permission.” My fiancé was one of those people. She likewise changed her name due to trauma, but I endlessly compared mine to hers, feeling like mine wasn’t “bad enough” to be a valid reason for changing my name. Not that she ever made me feel that way, of course. She is nothing but supportive. My mentor, likewise, was supportive. They also changed their name, and their reassurance was one of the pushes I needed to finally give it a go. Still, this process took too long, and it was mostly internal. I wished I had somebody who had been through it to hold my hand and reassure me that it was OK to change my name, no matter my reasons. It was OK to find something that felt right to me. That’s what I want to do for you. If you’re considering changing your name due to trauma or any other reason, consider this your permission. Say it with me: It’s OK to change your name if your given name makes you uncomfortable, unhappy, or upset. It’s as simple as that. Everybody deserves to love their name, and it’s really not that uncommon to change your name. Growing up, I knew somebody who used his middle name because he didn’t like his first name. I don’t know if he ever legally changed it, but everybody knew him by his middle name alone. And, as my mentor so rightfully put it, people change their names for marriage or divorce all the time. It’s not that much of a leap to change your first name, too. Maybe you feel guilty about “ending the family line.” I promise you, I can relate. But ultimately, I came to believe this is a fabrication of our patriarchal society. After all, if that’s the case, then wives end their family lines every time they take their husband’s name in marriage. Instead, I’m choosing a new family name — one I’m not directly related to, but which speaks to me and my love of nature. No matter what, though, I want you to find a name that gives you butterflies when you hear it. Introduce yourself to your reflection in the mirror and see how it feels. Does it make you feel happy? Powerful? Reborn? If so, you might be on to a winner. The response to my new name has been nothing short of incredible. I’ve been validated and reassured a hundred times over. People have begun using my new name in earnest, and not a single person has (to my face, at least) been mocking, cruel, or even unable to understand my reasoning. To those people: thank you for proving me wrong. I expected cruelty, but your empathy has been astounding. Having begun this process, I feel like a new person. Sure, I still have depression, anxiety, trauma, and so on. Those things have not left me. But, I feel like this has opened the door for me to begin to heal. That’s a gift everybody deserves to enjoy. So, it’s my pleasure to introduce myself to you anew. My name is Alexander Winter Lockwood, and changing my name is one of the best things I’ve ever done. Don’t you deserve to feel that way, too?

    Community Voices

    Honest and serious

    <p>Honest and serious</p>
    4 people are talking about this