PerfectEmpire
Diamond Member
Hello, I go by PerfectEmpire because it was what the randomly generated CAPTCHA characters spelled out when I registered for another forum. I thought it was pretty so I started using it as a user name.
I am in the Southeastern United States.
I am definitely a Complex PTSD sufferer since 1999. I don't even know where to begin.
Just a year ago, my list of places I couldn't go was over 70 items long. It is still 70 items, but my response and fear levels are much lower thanks to some exposure therapy and loads of bravery on my part. When I was still a child, whenever my parents drove me by or took me to one of these places, I would scream uncontrollably, stop talking, experience catatonia, and sometimes physically assault whomever was driving me there in order to try to take the wheel - anything not to go back there or to see it ever again.
The places I am afraid of are all around me everyday. Everyday I have to live with what I did and what was done to me. I can't grocery shop at certain stores, I can't even cut through particular parking lots. I go to great lengths to avoid certain routes. This bewilders my friends and family who cannot understand why I insist on going the long way, or traveling great distances to buy things I can buy right in my own neighborhood.
I've gotten better though. I used to be afraid of particular ink colors that reminded me. I am still afraid of certain types of clothing, certain colors, certain games, certain fonts, certain names, and particular words that remind me. Everyday items remind me. This hinders my ability to live freely. It interferes with my personal liberty. It makes me act very strange. I feel like a slave!
Since my initial trauma, I've been through more than a dozen therapists, hospitalized twice, diagnosed with everything from schizophrenia to bipolar to psychosis (because I was unable to talk about what happened, it appeared that I was mentally ill rather than injured). I ended up with Anorexia Nervosa for a year (that was the second hospitalization). I cut myself. I overdosed. I screamed and broke down in public over and over and over again. My parents didn't know what to do with me and neither did the counselors, the school system, or myself. All I want and wanted is to be released from the bondage of these memories and all that happened. I hope to get much of that done here, especially through the Trauma Diaries section. I feel like a horrible person. Maybe telling my secret will ease this tension.
Thank you for reading. I am disturbed now and will go to bed.
I am in the Southeastern United States.
I am definitely a Complex PTSD sufferer since 1999. I don't even know where to begin.
Just a year ago, my list of places I couldn't go was over 70 items long. It is still 70 items, but my response and fear levels are much lower thanks to some exposure therapy and loads of bravery on my part. When I was still a child, whenever my parents drove me by or took me to one of these places, I would scream uncontrollably, stop talking, experience catatonia, and sometimes physically assault whomever was driving me there in order to try to take the wheel - anything not to go back there or to see it ever again.
The places I am afraid of are all around me everyday. Everyday I have to live with what I did and what was done to me. I can't grocery shop at certain stores, I can't even cut through particular parking lots. I go to great lengths to avoid certain routes. This bewilders my friends and family who cannot understand why I insist on going the long way, or traveling great distances to buy things I can buy right in my own neighborhood.
I've gotten better though. I used to be afraid of particular ink colors that reminded me. I am still afraid of certain types of clothing, certain colors, certain games, certain fonts, certain names, and particular words that remind me. Everyday items remind me. This hinders my ability to live freely. It interferes with my personal liberty. It makes me act very strange. I feel like a slave!
Since my initial trauma, I've been through more than a dozen therapists, hospitalized twice, diagnosed with everything from schizophrenia to bipolar to psychosis (because I was unable to talk about what happened, it appeared that I was mentally ill rather than injured). I ended up with Anorexia Nervosa for a year (that was the second hospitalization). I cut myself. I overdosed. I screamed and broke down in public over and over and over again. My parents didn't know what to do with me and neither did the counselors, the school system, or myself. All I want and wanted is to be released from the bondage of these memories and all that happened. I hope to get much of that done here, especially through the Trauma Diaries section. I feel like a horrible person. Maybe telling my secret will ease this tension.
Thank you for reading. I am disturbed now and will go to bed.
