My relationship raising my daughter.
When I first broke apart my daughter was about 4 or 5. That is when I had clinical depression which really became chronic. After that I was a different person. As she put it when she was 17, it was like she lost her 'old' Mom. I know reflecting back I became emotionally dead - everything I tried to give was fake, I thought my pretense was undetected. It was the beginning of the PTSD but not diagnosed.
As I raised her and provided her with a home, opportunities I never had, and a mom like I never had, - I did the best that I could while functioning like a robot. When she was 9 I had another breakdown, this was the toughest on us all. I was in a pit and empty - became anorexic for three years. I lost 85 lbs and was smaller than my adolescent daughter. All was done in silence, but could not be denied by observation. That is when the memories came flooding back of my childhood abuse. I was horrified.
Now you can figure out where I was for the next 12 years of therapy.
How it affected my daughter though. She feels I deserted her when she was 5 and that I wasn't there for her growing up. I don't think that is totally true but I do admit my mind was often elsewhere. I always tried to be there for her regardless of where I was at. I stuffed, put myself away, and addressed the present with her. She was the center of my world and the only thing keeping me alive.
After her father dropped dead when she was 16 it became living hell with her. She was so angry at everything and it was all directed at me. She became totally abusive to me and cut me out of her life even though we lived together. When she was 18 at the end of her Freshman year of college I had to kick her out of the house to live with her Step Mom because we were harming eaching other beyond return. We didn't speak for about half a year.
Today she is 22, we have regained a close relationship on her terms. She is still judgemental and lacks understanding of the whole picture. I walk on eggshells around her and have learned to have no expectations of her in response to my needs. This hurts me but it is how it is.
I would say, My PTSD totally colored our lives together beyond either of our control. The timing sucked but you can't pick when these things will happen.
I know there was tremendous support, love and good times beyond what I had growing up but she doesn't remember that and focuses on the bad and what she didn't have from her perception (not reality which is based on everyone elses perceptions - therapist, my mom, my two closest friends).
Unfortunately, I have to accept it and hope that time will reveal to her the reality as she matures and recognizes her past more clearly.