D
Deleted member 28986
Hello everybody! It's my first time posting on here, though I've been reading for a month or so and have really appreciated the amazing community here. Oh, and I'm really, really sorry for how long this post is.
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I was diagnosed with complex PTSD a couple months ago. My parents first and foremost provided me with emotional abuse and isolation, and threw in a pinch of physical and sexual abuse for measure.
I royally screwed up my marriage right from the beginning. I was never able to share emotions with my husband. I "just knew" he'd love me if I was "perfect," and I made self-destructive choices and basically told lies in an attempt to be that way. Unlike a healthy adult who would set boundaries, from day one I gave into most of his demands—behavioral, financial, and sexual—usually without complaint. When I DID complain, I felt like I wasn't heard.
Anyway, you can imagine where that got me. I had started a business after I got married, and at the start of last year, my poor choices ran the business into the ground. My house of cards came tumbling down, and some of my poor choices came to light. That completely screwed up the trust in our relationship.
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Last year was a living hell for both of us. We "almost" got divorced a dozen times. I finally got a diagnosis a couple months ago. I'm in therapy now (for the first time since marriage) and am learning about this complex web of crap that manages to screw everything up. We finally decided to divorce but remain friends, and we filed earlier this month.
A week ago exactly, he told me what may be the kindest, most selfless things I've ever heard. He said he finally saw how he had been making the past year about himself when he should have been making it about me. He said he accepted my illness and that meant accepting there were things he couldn't hope to understand. He said he was sorry for all the ways he hurt me. He said he wanted to provide the support I need as a friend, after marriage. He said he wanted to help me through these tough times.
I have tried to clue him in on my recovery as much as possible, and he says he understands that I have emotional flashbacks and that I will try to set boundaries to avoid them and recover from them. Now, Friday night I was with him and was getting mildly triggered. I told him I needed my space, and I left the new apartment where he's staying.
My husband is so confusing. He switches on a dime between a supporter and an adversary. The next morning on the phone, less than 24 hours after he was being so accepting, he has the balls to mention "shell shock" as well as "flashbacks" of his prior marriage. (He was not trying to say he suffers from PTSD. I believe he was being an asshole to me.) That afternoon he called me saying he was outside my apartment and he had his old key and he was coming in. This was very alarming to me. I hope some of you all can relate to how unsafe I felt, because he certainly couldn't. I came outside to meet him and could hardly talk. I mostly just froze up.
He had the nerve to take this VERY personally. He thinks my saying I need my space is just a weaselly way to say, "I don't have time for my husband, but I do have time for other people."
Now, he says he's withdrawing the cooperative divorce petition. He had volunteered to pay a tiny amount of alimony. He specified the amount and I agreed to it. The miserable **** no longer wants to pay that. He's bringing this up—repeatedly—and it feels like it's just to antagonize me. He won't even help me find a new place. "I'm a big boy," he says.
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This has been a very difficult weekend. I won't bore with the details from today, but before I wrote all this, I was really badly triggered and I felt like a wild animal ready to kill. (I'm not actually homicidal. Just describing a feeling.) Dissociation is usually so automatic, so easy. Tonight I didn't dissociate—I stayed engaged, and it was horrible.
Today I read about transitional housing offered by my state, and I am calling tomorrow to see if I qualify. Lots of housing seems to be exclusively for women, and I'm a guy. So I'm nervous about that. Also, public assistance has a weird feeling to it, and I'm ashamed to need it.
Anyway, believe it or not, I think the simple act of writing this out has led my left brain to take over for my feral right brain. I had already adding "write about it" to my flashback-recovery checklist, but I forgot just how cathartic it could really be.
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So...
...
...how ridiculous do I come off? :-)
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I was diagnosed with complex PTSD a couple months ago. My parents first and foremost provided me with emotional abuse and isolation, and threw in a pinch of physical and sexual abuse for measure.
I royally screwed up my marriage right from the beginning. I was never able to share emotions with my husband. I "just knew" he'd love me if I was "perfect," and I made self-destructive choices and basically told lies in an attempt to be that way. Unlike a healthy adult who would set boundaries, from day one I gave into most of his demands—behavioral, financial, and sexual—usually without complaint. When I DID complain, I felt like I wasn't heard.
Anyway, you can imagine where that got me. I had started a business after I got married, and at the start of last year, my poor choices ran the business into the ground. My house of cards came tumbling down, and some of my poor choices came to light. That completely screwed up the trust in our relationship.
-
Last year was a living hell for both of us. We "almost" got divorced a dozen times. I finally got a diagnosis a couple months ago. I'm in therapy now (for the first time since marriage) and am learning about this complex web of crap that manages to screw everything up. We finally decided to divorce but remain friends, and we filed earlier this month.
A week ago exactly, he told me what may be the kindest, most selfless things I've ever heard. He said he finally saw how he had been making the past year about himself when he should have been making it about me. He said he accepted my illness and that meant accepting there were things he couldn't hope to understand. He said he was sorry for all the ways he hurt me. He said he wanted to provide the support I need as a friend, after marriage. He said he wanted to help me through these tough times.
I have tried to clue him in on my recovery as much as possible, and he says he understands that I have emotional flashbacks and that I will try to set boundaries to avoid them and recover from them. Now, Friday night I was with him and was getting mildly triggered. I told him I needed my space, and I left the new apartment where he's staying.
My husband is so confusing. He switches on a dime between a supporter and an adversary. The next morning on the phone, less than 24 hours after he was being so accepting, he has the balls to mention "shell shock" as well as "flashbacks" of his prior marriage. (He was not trying to say he suffers from PTSD. I believe he was being an asshole to me.) That afternoon he called me saying he was outside my apartment and he had his old key and he was coming in. This was very alarming to me. I hope some of you all can relate to how unsafe I felt, because he certainly couldn't. I came outside to meet him and could hardly talk. I mostly just froze up.
He had the nerve to take this VERY personally. He thinks my saying I need my space is just a weaselly way to say, "I don't have time for my husband, but I do have time for other people."
Now, he says he's withdrawing the cooperative divorce petition. He had volunteered to pay a tiny amount of alimony. He specified the amount and I agreed to it. The miserable **** no longer wants to pay that. He's bringing this up—repeatedly—and it feels like it's just to antagonize me. He won't even help me find a new place. "I'm a big boy," he says.
-
This has been a very difficult weekend. I won't bore with the details from today, but before I wrote all this, I was really badly triggered and I felt like a wild animal ready to kill. (I'm not actually homicidal. Just describing a feeling.) Dissociation is usually so automatic, so easy. Tonight I didn't dissociate—I stayed engaged, and it was horrible.
Today I read about transitional housing offered by my state, and I am calling tomorrow to see if I qualify. Lots of housing seems to be exclusively for women, and I'm a guy. So I'm nervous about that. Also, public assistance has a weird feeling to it, and I'm ashamed to need it.
Anyway, believe it or not, I think the simple act of writing this out has led my left brain to take over for my feral right brain. I had already adding "write about it" to my flashback-recovery checklist, but I forgot just how cathartic it could really be.
-
So...
...
...how ridiculous do I come off? :-)
