emotional neglect

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How do you feel when open up to your therapist?
The last 2 days I was anxious about how my therapist could react; I've written about early intimate experiences with men in hope to find unconditional love.
I've only told 1 person about it before.

I'm kind of ashamed about it.


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Perfect Being

During my processing today I tapped into a thought that became a loving mantra in my head, much like hearing Robin Williams saying "It's not your fault"

I am a perfect being

There's nothing 'wrong' with me.
I'm a pure child of the universe (my version of Higher Power)
I didn't deserve the manipulations and trauma.
I didn't deserve the terror
My intentions have always been well meaning, they still are.

It's the Human part I'm struggling with

#EmotionalAbuse #PTSD #EmotionalNeglect #delayed development due to neglect and abuse

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Tapdancing Around Family

I grew up without that feeling of being enough, without being appreciated or loved for who I was. Nobody really cared or asked what I believed or wanted, felt or hoped for.

Being introverted and highly sensitive on top of it, it was relatively easy for me to fit into a role that was carved out for me, deemed acceptable enough by my family - luckily, I love my own company, was easy going, quiet and obedient. I was the 'good girl' who did what she was told and didn't ask or expect any different from the world around her. I didn't know that a different world was possible or how this world could look or feel like for a very long time in my life.

I knew that I had obviously failed miserably trying to be what was expected of me. At the age of 6 my mother told me that 'she should have thrown me against the wall at birth' after complaining that I hadn't done my daily chore to her liking... a vision that never quite left me all my life.

I had also failed to be loved by my father, I guess... why, as I found out much later in life, would he otherwise agree to not ever seeing me again in exchange of my mother accepting full blame for a failed marriage at the family court? Thanks goodness this is now a thing of the past.

So at the age of 8, I was dealt with like the cards on and under the table. Shuffled about to fit into their lives. Used as payback to each other and as a joker to hit the other where it could hurt the most... only it didn't do any harm to them, the joke was completely on me:

The day came when my father moved out and I had to say goodbye to my dad. I was told by my mother that my dad was moving out as he wanted to marry another woman who also had two girls from another marriage. They would now become his daughters and who he obviously loved more than his own. Any correspondence and presents for birthdays he sent to me after that disappeared before they reached me... I was told he didn't want to know me anymore.

I learned early that I had to perform to be accepted, agree with others opinions and needs, not only to be seen but also to survive. Growing older, I had no voice and didn't really know what that even meant. I was never asked about my thoughts or opinions, they didn't really matter and why would anybody be interested in them anyway!

In school one was asked for assertiveness, the need to question and discuss, but my voice remained quiet and mouse-like. Painfully dodging any way to be myself, to be in the light to shine or stand out to be who I really was. Always hiding in the shadows.

Sadly, I wasn't allowed to take the courses at school that interested me - art was not what my mother deemed acceptable, and my failure of good grades did not improve in those subjects she asked me to take, no matter how hard she tried to knock them into me during her drunken weekend sessions.

A small circle of friends, girls from my class who I could be with, talk with and be without pretence, were also not the ones she wanted for me. She put an end to that closeness by secretly asking the school to move me to another class. Apparently their bad influence stopped my achievements - it wasn't the drunken scenes, late into the night, or the sleepless nights when I huddled under the doona hoping she wouldn't come back into my room to let me know how much she had done for me and how little I did to repay her for it, all the time hoping to relax as I had studied for the test the next day but had no hope to do well after nights like these.

She didn't even have the guts to warn me about it but let me walk to school after holidays, looking forward to seeing my friends again, only to find out that I was the only one who had been moved into another class in which I didn't know a single soul.

It took a lifetime to find that voice that should have been - only now at the age ovf 60+ do I start to feel brave enough to talk about those days when I was not good enough, not loved enough, and could not find peace.

As I learned to control my outer life by being agreeable, my inner life grew, expanded, dreamt of possibilities and hated the shackles that were placed on me from little on. My voice was always in there. It was stiffled, but it was waiting to be heard. It was bent into submission, shaped into size and place to please others, no matter of the pain this caused to me.

Both my parents have since died and my sister, 7 years my senior, is no longer talking to me. As she explained to me once, that with my arrival as a baby everything became hard and difficult, everything and everyone in the family changed once I was around - happiness disappeared for her as our mother couldn't cope any longer and I was obviously the reason for that. She talked of a happy childhood, parents I don't recognise - all negative change was down to me. Hard to take, but there it is.

My repeated attempts to establish an adult relationship in the hope to work through and heal some of the wounds we undoubtedly both suffered over those fateful years, has been rejected by her and the only reason given to me was once again the pain I had enforced on her. Now by simply bringing it up and reminding her about it... I have the feeling that she cannot function without the masks.

Go where you are celebrated and accepted not just tolerated'... I believe you have to drop those masks eventually.

Much Love to you all...











#Early Childhood Trauma

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Determination/Intrinsic Motivation

Here is your inspirational post of the day:

I try to make a concerted effort each day to heal the wounds of the #ChildhoodAbuse and #EmotionalNeglect that I experienced. Yes, the #SexualAbuse and #EmotionalAbuse left their marks on me in the form of #PTSD but that doesn't stop me. In fact receiving a PTSD diagnosis put a lot into perspective for me. It helped me to realize that what I experienced was that bad and it did in fact happen. That all the manipulation and gaslighting were wrong. But this post isn't about emotionally abusive tactics. Each day is a conscious choice to heal or not heal. Each day is a choice to break the cycle of abuse or not break it. Determination has to be what drives you to heal. I am determined to not let the past abuse interfere with my present, to not let it dictate my future. I am determined to heal so I do not pass on what I endured to others. Besides determination you need intrinsic motivation. This may be a bit harder to do because you need to know what drives you. Once you know this you can do just about anything. Remember my post on consistency? You need that too. All these things can help you to lead a fulfilling life despite the past history of abuse. I believe in you, now you have to believe in yourself. You can and will break the cycle of abuse because you can do it, I know you can. If I can do it, then so can you. Sure it takes time and effort but it is worth it. It takes digging up painful memories but it is worth it. You are worth it. So keep striving my friends. You got this.

#SexualAbuse #EmotionalAbuse #EmotionalNeglect #ChildhoodAbuse #Trauma #PTSD #Hope #Healing #Inspiration #Determination #Motivation

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Words are the silence that can be spoken

After reading Tara Westover’s “Educated”, Paula Fox’s “Borrowed Finery”, and Alan Cumming’s “Not My Father’s Son”—Jeanette Winterson’s “Why Be Happy When You Can Be Normal?” seemed a natural progression of my literal literary journey through other people’s dysfunctional families.

Particularly as I have one of those myself.

I often find myself, leaning into that darkness; conducting a field study of sorts; of the lived experiences of others, to compare against my own. Desperately searching for clues as to how they managed to escape the chaos of familial dysfunction intact, or at least semi intact.

Doesn’t trauma do that to us all? We seek out answers, explanations, and ways to escape?

I always found my escape hatch in books, and I can tell that this one is going to be a helluva immersive read. To wit; I’m only on page 8 and already find myself awed by this excerpt:

“Truth for anyone is a very complex thing.
There are so many things that we can’t say, because they are too painful. We hope that the things we can say will soothe the rest, or appease it in some way. Stories are compensatory. The world is unfair, unjust, unknowable, out of control.

When we tell a story we exercise control, but in such a way as to leave a gap, an opening. It is a version, but never the final one. And perhaps we hope that the silences will be heard by someone else, and the story can continue, can be retold.

When we write we offer the silence as much as the story. Words are the part of silence that can be spoken.”

Looks like my weekend plans are sorted! What is your current read? 📚

#MightyBookClub #BookExcerpt #Books #Childhoodtrauma #PTSD #Trauma
#Anxiety #Reading #Early Childhood Trauma
#ChildhoodAbuse #EmotionalAbuse
#EmotionalNeglect #EmotionalHealth

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What is enmeshment?

Enmeshment occurs in families where distinct boundaries do not exist from one person to the next. In essence, a child may be viewed as an extension of the parent and not allowed any kind of autonomy or differentiation.

One form of enmeshment is parentification, which occurs when a child is tasked with taking care of a parent’s needs whether because of divorce or mental illness and can lead to a child negating their own needs.

Here’s a great description of this type of abuse: Parentification: The Type of Emotional Abuse We Don't Talk About

Again, this is a type of abuse with which I am intimately familiar. My mother was divorced, had her own unresolved childhood trauma and struggled with undiagnosed mental health issues. Her inability to cope on her own meant that I was tasked with caring for her basic needs as a child and I never felt like I had a chance to actually be a child because I always had to be the responsible adult. That often leaves me feeling like I was robbed of an actual childhood and never really had the opportunity to develop a sense of my own likes, personality or individuality.

Have you experienced this type of abuse? If so, how has it affected you as an adult?

#Trauma #PTSD #CPTSD #Enmeshment #Parentification #ChildAbuse #EmotionalAbuse #EmotionalNeglect #Parenting

Parentification: The Type of Emotional Abuse We Don't Talk About

"My childhood was stolen from me."
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What is emotional neglect?

Emotional neglect is a relationship pattern in which an individual’s needs are consistently disregarded, ignored, invalidated or unappreciated. It can occur within the context of any relationship, including but not limited to spouses, friends and parent/child.

Childhood emotional neglect is particularly insidious in that it can influence future relationships. Read more about CEN here: themighty.com/2021/06/childhood-emotional-neglect

I personally experienced this type of abuse with my own mother and it can be extremely confusing. You don’t realize it’s abusive until you grow up not being able to define your own needs or ask anyone for help because you don’t think you deserve it. Have you experienced this type of abuse? If so, how has it affected you?

#Trauma #PTSD #CPTSD #neglect #EmotionalNeglect #EmotionalAbuse

How Childhood Emotional Neglect Can Follow You Through Life

You’ll find a community that has your back on The Mighty, no matter what health situation you’re going through. We talk about what health is really like — mental health, chronic illness, disability, rare disease, cancer, and much more.

This space for rent...

I have found that this app is way too triggering. There is no way to avoid the posts that trigger. This app has also shown how very few medical professionals are actually professional- according to posts.
Why must I see every dang post there is? There's very little explaining that most hastags are general topics, not any specific group. But it makes no difference because I see folks posting to a group and folks with just topic hashtags and they all end up in mainfeed. SMH there's no way to avoid posts I don't need to see!! It seems it makes no difference if you post to a specific group, I'll still see it in my feed even though I have not joined that group. I'm glad folks feel they are getting something out of this but I feel it's doing more damage to others. But nothing will change, because being the only app like this some must be so proud that they can't see the flaws. It's messy. Being the first means there is a responsibility, particularly to the users of this app. I'm sure this falls on deaf ears. I can no longer keep being subjected to every trauma. Besides, the fact that there are people in this world that will go out of their way to harm you, this app makes it too easy for those kinds of people. Good luck folks, careful what you share.


I want to thank everyone for their support

#Suicide #ChronicDepression #ChildLoss #Anxiety #alienated #PTSD #EmotionalNeglect

Does anyone else talk to themselves? Is it just me that finds myself telling my son Jacob who committed suicide "please honey let mommy have peace in my heart and mind, even if it is only for a little while"