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Sufferer Cptsd...and Life Without Loving Touch.

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Hello..... I am Della. Not quite sure how, or where to start. I guess.... a basic run down of history? I hope this does not cause triggers for anyone... I will try to avoid being too detailed/ graphic etc....

Childhood abuse. My first memory is of being beaten when I was two (because I wet the bed). My mother was absolutely beautiful...... but highly narcissistic/ sociopathic, did drugs etc.....She did the rejected child and golden child textbook routine---my younger blond sister was seen as a thing of value/ an extension of herself, and I was something to hate and resent. When I was five she became engaged to a man who was a police officer. He started molesting and beating me before they were married, and instead of protecting me.....my mother ignored it. They made some kind of deal where he was allowed to have me, as long as he left my sister alone. I got it from both sides....mother despised me, so constantly physically attacked me and made it clear that I was not wanted, ugly, stupid, no one would ever want me etc... ( years later I finally figured out that a lot of it was a warped sense of jealousy and blame on her part-----saw me as competition and could not understand that I was a child she was supposed to protect). Step father was violent, sexually abusive, and would sometimes play warped control games ( such as....would not let me go to the bathroom for extended periods, and then when I wet myself, would get beaten etc....). I was always afraid. I feared touch... because it only brought pain, violation etc..... I did not experience anything else. I was of course trained to conceal, and to believe that I was the one at fault. I wasn't allowed to react to cry or react to pain..... but at night I would burrow under blankets, hold myself, rock, cry etc..... self-comfort techniques.
When I was nine my mother and step-father had an argument, and she hauled us to one of her friends. I had hand-print bruises around my neck from being picked-up by my throat and strangled...... and her friend saw it. She also sat me down and managed to get me to tell her about the sexual abuse. From there, my mother was forced to get a divorce to save her own face-----but hated me for it. She put the blame on me, punished me, cut my hair off, told me the molestation was my fault, that no one would want me, that if other people found out they would hate me etc.... and she forbid me from talking in the court-appointed group therapy I had been placed in. I now understand that a lot of that was to prevent me from revealing her part in things.
Once single, my mother became a "party girl".... did drugs, dated lots of men, and did little to care for us. My step father had been the one who at least took care of our basic needs. She brought in some live-in boyfriends, and they often were gone for periods.... leaving my sister and I without supervision, food, sometimes without utilities etc..... and through it all the physical and emotional abuse continued as well, and was added to by her boyfriends who picked-up that she didn't care what was done to me.
When I was eleven I developed crippling pain and pressure in my lower back. It became difficult to stand, walk etc.... and I was beaten and accused of lying when I attempted to get help. PE teacher called to report my lack of participation, and I was beaten.... threatened, and told to never mention "my lies" again. So I went silent per how I was trained to cope with things. I knew something was seriously wrong with me, and that I was dying..... but I didn't understand that anyone was supposed to care, or help me. I just worried about what would happen to my sister and cat. The pain was constant and excruciating, and eventually( after four months) I broke-down and prayed to die so it would end...... the next day I screamed in agony for hours, and was ignored, and shouted at to "shut-up *itch" etc.....At the time my bed was a box spring and a sleeping bag. When I finally was taken in, it was discovered that an untreated ovarian cycst had caused ovary to drop, tube to twist.... filled with toxic gunk and reached ten pounds, and thus was pressing my organs etc......It should have ruputured afte rthe first pound or two and killed me.
At 14 I was violently assaulted..... and kept silent because I knew I would have been blamed again, and that it just would have been thrown at me as an example of my stupidity etc.... And in general, continued to be the hate-target for my mother until I finally broke free, and put myself through college.

I had started to thrive, achieve things... but I think relaxing out of having to always be on guard etc..... caused things to start to surface. I was still in college when the flashbacks, nightmares etc... hit. Found myself reliving everything, and feeling like I had no worth....... unfortunately, my attempts to get help backfired. People who I thought were friends back peddled, and the campus counseling department diagnosed me with complex post traumatic stress..... but I was told my history was too broad to allow me to participate in groups, and that they could not provide care to me because they were a short-term facility. So, like when I was a kid...... I went through it all alone again. I somehow managed to graduate..... but I then kind of isolated myself. I had a strong need to feel in control and protect myself. I also could not bare to be touched for a long time....Eventually I started using food for comfort, and to try mask the heavy emptiness that I felt.

I discovered that I had to force myself to face everything down....one by one. It was terrifying, and took a while, but eventually the nightmares and flashbacks stopped. I have now been trying to salvage what I can of my life...... though it feels like so much has been stolen. I have missed most normal milestones, and have remained alone. I have put most of the weight off, addressed the food issues etc..... and have started singing/ performing again.

I guess the main reason I am here..... is due to my issues with touch. Through everything.... no one ever held me, or touched me in any kind of loving way etc.....I was 17 when I finally discovered hugs could be a good thing, thanks to theatre kids. For years I had an intense need and longing to experience positive interactions.... to be held...... but it never happened. Whenever people got glimpses, they retreated quickly, advised me to find someone else, said they did not want me to depend on them and so forth........ and when the ptsd hit, I relived it all again without anything to counter it, or a comfort source. I am 41 now, and I still hold myself when I sleep, and use blanket weight for comfort. I don't know how to break out of that, and to experience real interactions. It is embarrassing, and I fear how I will react......whether I will get emotional, flinch etc..... the one time someone tried to give me a back rub back in 1997 resulted in tensing, flinching etc... and thus, revealing I had been hurt. I do not want to be this way. I know some people will think I should just go get massages or something, but the thought of having to pay to experience it makes me feel horrible. Basically, after all the self-work I have done.... I still am held-up with this, because it is the one thing I cannot do for my own self.
Does anyone else have this issue, or have found solutions?

The big thing I have discovered is.... people cannot really grasp that for me, it is not really a case of "recovery" or "regaining"..... there was no "before". Nothing else to reference. People have expected me to magically get over it and be normal, without receiving anything to help with it etc..... Sometimes I just feel trapped. Darkness behind me, locked doors in front of me. I just really want to try to live, experience love, heal etc...... and it is frustrating to be held back by something I cannot do for my own self, and no one else has ever wanted to provide.

This is not self-pity.... just.... frustration, and wishing there were solutions.
 
Welcome @HeartFullofSong
I'm glad you found this site, somewhere to talk about it all! That was hard to read, I can only imagine how hard it's been to live through all that!
You sound very creative. For me normal therapy didn't really help, but art therapy has been amazing as I dong find it easy or even comforting to talk.
Just mentioning it as it might also appeal to you.
Wishing you much healing - you certainly deserve that and more!!
 
Hello..... I am Della. Not quite sure how, or where to start. I guess.... a basic run down of h...
I'm the same been through something similar I hate touch I sleep in a child like position in have to be under the covers I have night mares every night I'm also 41 years old and have ptsd it does get easier when I met my husband 18 years ago he was the first person allowed to touch me even now I freak out sometimes I think you done amazing to get this far plus you went to college that's amazing
 
@HeartFullofSong Welcome to the forum! :)

It is perfectly understandable to fear touch when you learned to associate it with pain and that is your point of reference. Do you have pets? Receiving affection from a pet can be a starting point in learning what affection is suppose to be. Do you have friends that are "touchy" people? Perhaps allowing them to hug or even initiating contact by putting a hand on a should or a pat on the back is a start.

For myself, I will never be a touchy person as I am not comfortable with it outside of a few close family members and friends. However, it was the affection of my pets and children that allowed me to experience touch and affection as it was suppose to be and not what I had learned from my own mother. I hope you find the information and support here helpful as you continue your own healing journey.
 
I read your story and was stunned. How on earth you survived all that without being a total mess is incredible. so first of all I salute you for being a survivor at all. Then I read on and I heard your very heartfelt sorrow around lack of touch and that was deeply moving. I had the same. I begged for touch from my therapist. I am a woman in my fifties. He is a man in his fifties. He argued with all the arguments therapists can use, to not touch or hug me. I argued back as only a deperate small child needing touch like oxygen, can do. Eventually he came round. He now acknowledges that despite all his previous fears, him being able to hold me or hug me as though I am a small child, has made therapy manageable for me. I am so grateful to him for acknowledging my traumatised little me, holding her, soothing her, reading her stories, and being kind and lovely to her. By him treating her like this, I came to love her and stop hating her and now my little me and my big me are friends and I can soothe her more myself. He taught me how to. By doing it so I could feel it - eventually - (it took a while - no kidding) and then once I began to know what the feeling is of being safe and loved and held, I could do it to myself when he isn't around. So I so get this.
 
Just joined today, but this immediately resonated with me. I wasn't touched very often by my mother, who was my only parent. My grandparents weren't touchers either, but I almost forced them to be as a kid when I stayed over a their place. They always told me that of all of their children and grandchildren, I was the only one who slept in their bed with them, right in the middle. I remember that very fondly.

As someone in their mid-40s now, I crave touch more than I can possibly say. I am a toucher. I huge people in order to be hugged. But, there is no amount that is ever enough for me. And I'm currently in a long-distance relationship, so the touching is very sporadic.

I'm so glad you finally found a community who weren't afraid of touching. It's such a powerful thing for us. I think we found the right space here.
 
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