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Finally I Know What's Wrong With Me - But It's Really Scary

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Queen Boudica

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It's so ironic. For years I have visioned my childhood as the final scenes in the movie Apocalyspse Now and with those words "Oh the horror...the horror" But it never occured to me that I could have post traumatic stress disorder. After years of thinking "why am I like this?" "There has to be something wrong with me", the psychologist I am seeing to help my son deal with the problems caused by his psoriasis has come up with an answer.

But that answer is such a terrifying one because now I have to deal with all the stuff I have run away from.

I thought I was the one who escaped. The nightmare I have of me running out of the house, scrambling over the garage and running down the street desperately trying to escape from my mother who is running after me is not over. Now it has taken on a new dimension. Instead of me managing to hide away from her, she has found my hiding place and is grabbing onto my leg dragging me back into the horror of what happened in my childhood and the aftermath that left my sister dead of an overdose and me an emotional wreck.

Problem is I thought I had dealt with all this stuff but turns out I was kidding myself. She's got me well and good. Now I have to stand up and face all the horor again and this time I'm remembering it all and linking up all the terrifying details like a monstrous gigsaw puzzle, the pieces of which I thought I had buried in the deepest abyss in my mind where they could never be found.

All this stuff is churning over and over in my head. I'm trying to cope but I'm finding myself driven to more and more panic. I have to get this all out. I have to deal with it and finally make myself better for the sake of my kids.

So this is the start of my journey to end this vicious cycle and get rid of "the horror". I don't know whether I've got the strength but I hope by writing the horror down it might help just a little and maybe someone else out there who is going through the same sort of horror might be also be helped.
 
I thought I had escaped as well. I considered myself the survivor- and I had the guilt to go along with it. But that's all I noted. It turned out that while I had managed to walk through hell alive- I did not leave without scarring. I think that's where most of are.

But, here, here is hopefully a good place to start. Or at least, as good place as any. and I wish you the best of luck on your journey.

and if you ever need to talk-... I'm here.
 
That's so true incongruent . The guilt. Because I ran away to try and survive. That somehow if I'd been stronger and better I could have saved my sister, but deep down I know I would have ended up dead as well.

I thought I was coping even though really I had so many problems, like IBS, fear of driving, making telephone calls, questioning every decision I ever make. "Why would anyone want to be friends with me or be interested in any thing I have to say? I'm just a boring pathetic blob" I was just treading water. But I was coping I thought.

It all makes so much sense now. How could I possibly think I had escaped? And there it is again, the thoughts that why wasn't I diagnosed earlier? I'd seen a pyschologist before. My sister ended up in a mental institution where she was diagnosed with with schizophraenia and abused and put on drugs that made her look like she was a zombie. But now I know she must have had ptsd too. Why didn't those bloody pyschiatrists realize what was wrong with her instead of abusing her? And deep down I know that I would have ended up there too if I didn't get out. And I blame my mother. She wanted to control and consume us. We were her china dolls and we had to do and behave how she wanted us to and if we didn't we were EVIL. But she couldn't control us anymore. I ran away to University but she had my sister, who was falling apart and after I left that was the final blow. She tried to fight but my mother would never give in. It was never her that was the problem, we were the problem, so of course my sister had to be put in a mental institution rather than my mother admit that she was the one who needed to be hospitalized. I was too afraid and too mixed up to realise what was going on and even when I did no one believed me. You had to be on her side otherwise you were the evil one. She sucked you into her horrible World

But now I have 3 beautiful kids of my own and of course when you have kids all the crap from your childhood creeps in. And I have one kid with really bad psoriasis and the other with anaphylaxis, so I have to deal with all the stress from that as well as everything else. I HAVE to deal with doctors and specialists and make appointments and talk on the phone and drive but most of the time I want to curl up into a ball and make it all go away. And I can't stand when they argue and I can't cope with all the things I have to do every day but somehow I HAVE to. And I end up shouting at the kids for stupid things and PANIC PANIC about every little thing. My chest feels like an elephant is sitting on it and my heart is pounding pounding so much now that I am really worried what all this stuff will do to my health. But most of all I am worried what all this Panic is doing to my children. I see them stressing about stuff now and it has to stop, I have to beat this thing finally.
 
Truth is I'm not sure. I've been going to see a psychologist for my son who has psoriasis. He had a really bad attack at the end of January and ended up hospitalised with infection and psoriasis over his body. He would wake up screaming at night because of the itchiness. He is a lot better now but he has a lot of issues with self esteem, self-image, bullying at school and anger at having to be wet bandaged. He is only 7.

The pyschologist is teaching my son self-hypnosis and helping me with dealing with his behaviour.

Then my husband, who I now realise has been controlling and sometimes abusive, had a complete fit one day when I asked him to buy some more bread said "No as he did not believe we needed anymore bread" He then went to the bread bin to check how much bread we had and of course there was mouldy bread in there but we did need more bread. I could not believe he was doing this as I am the one who prepares all the meals and has to plan what we need, so I got annoyed and questioned why he was doing this. (Sounds so ridiculous doesn't it). He then proceeded to shout at me telling me that my house was a pig sty, that I was useless and that for the past ten years he had been putting up with me. So I told him that he needed to get out, but of course he would not leave as it was his house and his kids and we cannot afford to separate. So I told him to sell the house and find his perfect wife who keeps his perfect house. I ended up sleeping with my 3 year old and crying and having a massive panic attack all night. But I had an appointment with my son's pyschologist the next day - so it all came out, including the previous abuse.

Of course the pyschologist handed me the name of a divorce lawyer, but I can't accept that my husband will never change (and deep down inside I am terrified, it is all my fault anyway - I am driving him to this behaviour because I am so useless). So I got given the name of another pyschologist who does marriage counselling. But that appointment is not until the end of the month.

In the meantime I have been talking more with my son's psychologist. But of course, I feel guilty because he is supposed to be dealing with my son's problems not mine. And this pyschologist is really busy, he keeps getting booked out. And it is really expensive. He has just come up with this diagnosis of ptsd in the last session and has talked about some self-hypnosis for me to deal with the panic. But he was at a conference last week so it is over 2 weeks since I have seen him and in the meantime I am having so many horrible flashbacks and thoughts in my head and panic attacks and crying that it is awful. I'm seeing him on Thursday but I don't even know whether he is the best person to treat me . And there are so many issues I need to deal with where do I start?
 
I'm sorry this is all coming up for you. It is very painful.

Just one word of caution. My Mom would pull me into her bed with her when I was very young and tell me her troubles, saying things like, "If it wasn't for you, I wouldn't have to be here." Pretty damaging to a 5 year old.

It just came up for me when you talked about having to sleep in your son's bed.

Not that you are doing this or this stuff is having this affect on your son like it did me, but just be careful not to use your children as your refuge and sounding board too much.
Possibly get out and get therapy. Hard with PTSD, not an easy road, but rely on this psychologist if you trust him to guide you.
 
just be careful not to use your children as your refuge and sounding board too much.
OR, get a kitty or doggie to talk to. I tell Annie everything I would never tell a child, because I'm not very worried about damaging her little doggie psyche!

Lizio, I love your avatar picture. Is that you and your sister? Very sweet. (((Lizio))) Keep posting in your time.
 
Believe me TLight, that is one thing I would never do is burden my children with my problems. That is exactly what my mother did to me. She told me things about my dad that I could never repeat to anyone and that totally dehumanised him. She alienated my grandparents from us and expected us to be on her side about everything. I would never tell my children any of the stuff that is going on. I know all too well the damage it does.

I went to sleep in my 3 year old daughter's bed (which is a double bed, the old guest bed) after she was asleep and she had no idea I was crying, I don't want my children to see that. It was only one night and I am back in my own bed now.

I will get the therapy. I do trust this pyschologist as I know he is good. At the moment I am just coming to terms with the enormity of what PTSD means and how it has affected my life in so many ways and made me into the person I am and how I have shut off so much and now need to deal with it all. Its hard to know where the reality is. But I know I am going to deal with it. I am seeing the pyschologist on Thursday and I will try and ask him the right questions then (if I can get them into my head)

I am also coming to terms with the fact that it classified as a mental disorder and that it is not curable. You have to remember I had thought that I had escaped that I was the survivor, but I'm not that person, I have been damaged and its not something small that I can just deal with quickly. It is HUGE (well at least at the moment that's how it feels)
 
OR, get a kitty or doggie to talk to. I tell Annie everything I would never tell a child, because I'm not very worried about damaging her little doggie psyche!

Lizio, I love your avatar picture. Is that you and your sister? Very sweet. (((Lizio))) Keep posting in your time.

I used to tell my cat everything when I was a child.

Yes that is the problem now no-one to talk to who I trust. I thought my husband was my best friend and confidant, but now I don't trust him to tell him this. So I'm building up all the thoughts in my head and waiting to see the pyschologist to see if he can help. So that is why it is so great to have this place to chat. I honestly never thought I'd be able to write this stuff down.

Yes that is me in the green dress and my sister.
 
Lizio,

You've been dealing with ptsd all along, you just didn't know it. I think it is a little bit easier to deal with the enemy you know, rather than the one you do not. At least, that has been the case for me.

Remember what the stewardess on the airplane says? Put on your own oxygen mask before you help someone else with their mask. You will be better able to help your children as you get healthy. As for your husband....I don't know his issues...but I think he needs to be willing to seek help for himself.

I wish you well on your healing journey, and I am glad you are here.
 
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