traumasurvivor

You know, so often the abused are not even aware of the abuse as it’s happening and only years later, after learning that it was in fact not normal, do they realize how wrong it was.

Abusers condition their victims to accept that what’s happening to them is normal, that it is how everyone gets treated, and that it’s their fault, eliciting feelings of guilt and shame, effectively preventing the abused from speaking out.

People justify abuse by saying, “well it could’ve been worse,” “it wasn’t as bad as you’re saying,” “you’re being dramatic,” or my favorite, “you’re just trying to cause problems” when you were actually just trying to tell someone. I’ve been told I’m crazy, I’m a drama queen, I’m melodramatic, I’m an instigator, and on and on. I told my family about the abuse and those were the responses I got.

Yes it could’ve been worse. Yes others have gone through similar things. No I’m not the only one. Maybe some of it I did deserve. But that doesn’t excuse it.

It was abuse of power, trust, and love. Children are to be cared for, protected, nurtured, and loved. Not beat, insulted, gaslit, ignored, blamed, verbally abused, and emotionally neglected. If you cannot trust those put in your life to protect you, how can you trust others?

I have worked very hard, for many years to heal from the way I was raised. I have made it my goal in life to not allow others to feel the same ways I was made to feel. That is all after the fact. What is needed is intervention and protection before healing is necessary.

If you see something, say something. If you’re told something in confidence, help.

Children need to know that not all adults are going to hurt them. They are our future and broken children create broken adults, which in turn creates a broken society. Break the cycle.

#Abuse #mentalwellness
#Breakthecycle #Trauma #Childhoodtrauma #traumasurvivor #MentalHealth #Healing #ChildAbuse #Gaslighting

Just before Thanksgiving I boarded a plane to nowhere. The place doesn' t matter really. I wanted to extract myself from the unending circle of family tradition that rolls straight through Halloween to New Year's Day. Not only am I a survivor and carry the weight of CPTSD, I am single and estranged from my biological family. Holidays mean heightened awareness of my outsider status. Holidays are a dance I am never invited to--where I stand on the wall watching the crowd, perhaps a bit jealous (but mostly hopeful no one sees me) and terrified to be asked to join in. I am 13 again.

I left home at 15. My idea of holidays in my childhood did have feasts with multiple homemade pies, a plastic reusable tree and ornaments--and even, presents with my name on them. There was also a lot of screaming and crying, especially when late on the way to Church. There was also the time my mother burst into a Tasmanian devil cloud of anger at my father for having spoiled me with a Donkey Kong mini video arcade game. There was joy in singing holiday songs. And there was shame, guilt, self-consciousness, fear and anxiety. There were moments that we acted like a family because the world had given us a framework--a set of instructions: here is how to love; this is how you give; do this and enjoy being with family. We had the whole world of Believers to show us "how to."

As an adult, I am not a follower of the Catholic faith in which I was raised. If anything, I relate to the basic lessons of Buddhism though I am not deeply learned about the philosophy beyond what I read in Pema Chodron books and hear in her YouTube videos. I stopped celebrating with friends, who once gathered for Friendsgiving and Christmas dinner, when they started having families of their own now replete with 2.0.0.4 kids, in-laws and all the extended relationships that come with marriage. I also, as much as I have good intentions, have not connected with a volunteer community for those who are in more visible need during the holidays. Or maybe their needs, in fact, haven't changed moreso than other seasons--but, again, the social construct of holiday tradition shows us how to serve them in November and December.

Back to my flight, it was a one-way ticket fortunately provided by my frequent flier account. I knew when and where to evacuate; I did not know when it would feel okay to come back home. I spent time comforted in the lack of pressure and expectation of strangers. Better, I relaxed in the spaces without any engagement at all save for nature. I spent three weeks contented to have chosen my outsider-ness, instead of dealing with the barrage of physical must-dos that society and commerce shove in our faces. I rejected it all.

When I came home, due to fatigue and a virus that was dampening my solitude and my ability to even do things on my own with congested lungs and brain fog, I retreated into the privacy and quiet of my home. I received a few invitations to friends' holiday gatherings with their small families. I melted at the invitations and shuddered at the pressure of a response that wouldn't out me as someone without a place to go. In the end, I stayed home. I cowered inside myself, just like when I was a little girl.

I didn't allow myself to watch Christmas movies or listen to holiday music or hang anything around my home that made me aware of my aloneness at the most wonderful time of the year. I did buy foods I like and slept a lot and came to The Mighty to selfishly take the microphone that is the welcomed ability to tell it like it is to people who might be more likely to understand than anyone else in my home life.

Here's the zinger: I did/do not want to be cheered up. Instead, I want to be understood. It's not comforting to have to stuff down true emotions so that others are comfortable with my choice to be alone. I don't want tips on how to get through it. Newsflash, my mad survival skills are why I'm still here today. I simply want to be acknowledged for the fact that this is different reality that a whole segment of an unseen world live--and no one wants to really look at it. At us. I think I can speak for a lot of people who struggle with CPTSD--some without even knowing it--that what would be great during the holidays, that wipe out more than a quarter of a year, we can function without judgement, most especially self-judgement, and live the truth. It is simply that this isn't the most wonderful time of the year--and it's okay to do whatever we need to do to stand in a crowd where we can't belong. We want to be with you and bask in all the goodies that the majority of the world embraces. But our life circumstances, our brain wiring, our trauma--all of that clashes with the family togetherness that frames the holi-days. Many of us wouldn't have the trauma to begin with were it not for our families.

So let us save space for the ones who wish they could belong. Let us allow the outsiders to at least own their own words and feelings. May our holidays be whatever we need them to be, not what has taken shape in passed down traditions that shut out less shiny experiences. Let us shed love and light on those who carry darkness through no fault of their own.

#holidaytruth #CPTSD #traumasurvivor #Family #estrangedfamily #single #alone #okayalone

My wife just blew up at me. We need to communicate better, she said. She has a habit of telling me what negative thoughts I am thinking and feeling, and then adding, "well am I wrong?" to it. This is years in the making. Essentially, it happens when she asks me a question or tells me about something, and my tone of voice sounds negative to her, or my face or body language looks negative.

I have chronic pain as well as deep depression, so it is difficult for me to convincingly put on a happy face, or speak with joy in my voice. But I do try my best to speak in neutral tones at the very least, and I have thought that I have a resting face of a neutral mood or higher as much as possible.

It has been building for a long time. I am struck out of the blue most times when she tells me what I am thinking, and how unfair that is, and paints me as the bad guy and her as the innocent one. In the early days, it would just shock me, and sometimes confuse me. In the last couple of years, it just makes me angry and defensive. We've had plenty of arguments about it, but no agreement. She doesn't see it as mind reading because she says "I 'feel like' you were disgusted by what I just said, and you shouldn't be", or "I 'feel' that you think I'm stupid just because I did X, or Y". She says since she uses the word "feel", she isn't mind reading, and so it's up to me to tell her if she's right or wrong. Well, I have been telling her she's wrong for over 40 years now, and that only makes her angry and defensive. I told her time and again that I get mad when people try to read my mind and put words into my mouth. I tell her to skip saying the part about what she is so sure that I am thinking, and just ASK ME what I am thinking, instead. Ninety percent of the time, I am not only NOT thinking what she thinks I am, but I am thinking about some other subject altogether. Then when she accuses me of thinking some negative thing, it hits me out of the blue, and I register it as an insult. I asked her why she can't just ASK me what I am thinking, or ask me how I am feeling. I would welcome both of those if they were honest questions. I would feel like I was cared about. That makes perfect sense to me, but she doesn't see it that way. She says that she's just being honest, and that she IS asking me how I feel, or what I am thinking, when she tells me what she feels like I am thinking. We can't get past that. So she got louder and more accusatory, and then angrily walked out.

I don't know what to do. I am battling Major Depressive Disorder, CPTSD, Anxiety, ADHD and severe Chronic Pain. I am doing the very best that I can. I am on disability, and I fill my days and evenings reading books on my various diagnoses, learning as much as I can, so that I can better control, or adapt, or adjust to the reality of my life, and I do feel good about that. I have tried to share some of this with her, both verbally, and by sharing articles with her via email. She seems stand-offish about it, at best. When I ask her outright if she wants to learn more, she swears she does, but she has a life, therefore she just doesn't have the time or energy to read much about it. I told her a few minutes ago that I will stop burdening her with it, and will stop sending her articles and such. She rebuffed that idea, but added again that she just doesn't have the time. She said she is doing the best that she can in trying to deal with all my problems, and she doesn't have the energy or the will to do it any more. She's "had it."

She came back and brought up another time recently that I was unreasonable, saying that she had told me something about her job, and I had reacted with sarcasm and disgust. I remember it well. It was just the opposite. She told me that her employer was giving $50 bonuses to anyone who got a Covid booster shot, and I responded "wow, that must be nice. Go ahead and do that." She and I both agree that that's all that I said. But she says I was being sarcastic, and spit the words out like venom, and I thought it was disgusting. I remember calmly saying those words, genuinely happy for her to get $50 just for getting a shot that we both were going to get anyway. The difference, more than likely, was the fact that during the time that she was unwinding after work and telling me bonus, as well as about the rest of her day, I was in a pit of depression, and I was in a ton of physical pain from my legs and my back. I know that had to have affected the tone of my voice, the look on my face, and my body language. But I don't talk about the pain, because it would sound whiney and redundant. I was just sitting there listening to her, and I thought I answered appropriately and honestly. Anyway, that night, after I had answered her, she responded by telling me what (she believed) I was thinking and feeling, and she wanted to know what my response was. My response was "that's not an argument I am willing to have right now." To me, I was angry that "it" was happening again, and I could argue about it like so many times before, or I could choose not to. I chose not to argue. To her, I had just insulted her, and said she isn't worth arguing with, and since I had not argued, then what she had thought about me must indeed be true.

If (and when) she "reads my mind" again, and assigns various negative thoughts and feelings to me, we could bypass all of this trouble if she could just hold those 'mind-read thoughts' inside, and just ask me two simple questions, instead. First, "how are you feeling?" And second, "what are you tinking." I will gladly and honestly answer her. But I just can't take any more veritable accusations for thinking and feeling certain ways, and then be expected to explain or defend myself, meanwhile letting it roll off me like water off of a duck's back. It's not an argument I'm having anymore.

Thanks for listening.
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