marylouise
Silver Member
Can I heal from C-PTSD? I see this question, or some variation of it, a lot on this forum. I asked it myself over and over again as a young woman when I was first in recovery, though there was no name for C-PTSD back then. Recovery required faith that I could heal, and when I despaired, my therapist had faith for me. I always felt my recovery was a miracle, but on this site I see survivors going down the same path of recovery I once did. Your resilience is continually amazing. Even through the worst of circumstances, you have endured, and now you endure the daily heartbreak and grief of recovery. I hope that maybe my story can sustain your faith during the worst of times.
In brief, my traumatic "history" is that I was horribly abused and neglected as a child and adolescent. I was emotionally, physically and sexually assaulted as far back as I can remember. I was tortured, and I was told that I would be killed. I grew up in poverty, without enough food to eat, in a house that was falling apart, and without medical care. Neither of my parents worked for most of my childhood, because they were too ill. My mother was assaulted continually by my father, and she struggled with cancer until succumbing to it when I was fourteen. My father was a falling-down-drunk alcoholic, a veteran with PTSD of his own, and a sociopath.
Understandably, by the age of sixteen I was struggling with PTSD symptoms and suicidal ideation. At age twenty, I found a therapist who instinctively understood trauma. I spent the next 12 years in continuous therapy. When I left, I was happily engaged with work and friends and mentally healthy, though I knew there was a large chunk of my adolescence that I hadn't yet processed. I finished my college education, moved to one of the most beautiful American cities, worked a professional job, and met my husband with whom I've enjoyed a happy, stable relationship for the past nine years. I came back to therapy with a certified trauma specialist several years ago to work on my adolescent years, but from a very different place.
Of course, my life is not perfect. In therapy now, I'm working on what is preventing me from accomplishing what I want creatively and professionally. Over the past three years, I suffered a debilitating immune-related illness, though I'm recovered now. I have a life though that seemed impossible at age 20. I'm mentally stable and generally pretty happy. I am financially secure. I have a loving, caring relationship with a great guy. I enjoy where I live and my home. I have close friends. My life is nothing like how I grew up.
I compare my life to that of my sister. I've been estranged from her for 17 years. The last time I saw her she called me "crazy" for going to therapy. She physically attacked me that day. I am now just a voyeur to her life via Facebook. She has been drinking heavily since she was 15, and is an alcoholic. She also married a guy who is an alcoholic; he's been arrested several times for DUIs and spent time in jail. According to my sister on FB, he's also a drug addict. She once described him on drugs breaking a window of their house with a garden rake to get inside, after which she had the cops arrest him. They have three children together, and I know those children are growing up with addiction and violence just like my sister and I did. The cycle has not been broken, for her and her children.
Sometimes I take my stable, happy life for granted. I forget how hard I've worked for it. But that too is part of recovery: to live in a mindset where happiness and human connection feels normal. Often, I'm striving for more. But that is part of life. Humans are self-actualizing. We are constantly challenging ourselves to grow. I just hope there are more lives ahead for me, because I've spent a lot of time and energy growing in this one. : )
In brief, my traumatic "history" is that I was horribly abused and neglected as a child and adolescent. I was emotionally, physically and sexually assaulted as far back as I can remember. I was tortured, and I was told that I would be killed. I grew up in poverty, without enough food to eat, in a house that was falling apart, and without medical care. Neither of my parents worked for most of my childhood, because they were too ill. My mother was assaulted continually by my father, and she struggled with cancer until succumbing to it when I was fourteen. My father was a falling-down-drunk alcoholic, a veteran with PTSD of his own, and a sociopath.
Understandably, by the age of sixteen I was struggling with PTSD symptoms and suicidal ideation. At age twenty, I found a therapist who instinctively understood trauma. I spent the next 12 years in continuous therapy. When I left, I was happily engaged with work and friends and mentally healthy, though I knew there was a large chunk of my adolescence that I hadn't yet processed. I finished my college education, moved to one of the most beautiful American cities, worked a professional job, and met my husband with whom I've enjoyed a happy, stable relationship for the past nine years. I came back to therapy with a certified trauma specialist several years ago to work on my adolescent years, but from a very different place.
Of course, my life is not perfect. In therapy now, I'm working on what is preventing me from accomplishing what I want creatively and professionally. Over the past three years, I suffered a debilitating immune-related illness, though I'm recovered now. I have a life though that seemed impossible at age 20. I'm mentally stable and generally pretty happy. I am financially secure. I have a loving, caring relationship with a great guy. I enjoy where I live and my home. I have close friends. My life is nothing like how I grew up.
I compare my life to that of my sister. I've been estranged from her for 17 years. The last time I saw her she called me "crazy" for going to therapy. She physically attacked me that day. I am now just a voyeur to her life via Facebook. She has been drinking heavily since she was 15, and is an alcoholic. She also married a guy who is an alcoholic; he's been arrested several times for DUIs and spent time in jail. According to my sister on FB, he's also a drug addict. She once described him on drugs breaking a window of their house with a garden rake to get inside, after which she had the cops arrest him. They have three children together, and I know those children are growing up with addiction and violence just like my sister and I did. The cycle has not been broken, for her and her children.
Sometimes I take my stable, happy life for granted. I forget how hard I've worked for it. But that too is part of recovery: to live in a mindset where happiness and human connection feels normal. Often, I'm striving for more. But that is part of life. Humans are self-actualizing. We are constantly challenging ourselves to grow. I just hope there are more lives ahead for me, because I've spent a lot of time and energy growing in this one. : )
