jaccat
VIP Member
Hello,
I've just found this forum through Pete Walker's book on complex PTSD. I'm still coming to terms with the fact that I'm still suffering from PTSD due to my hugely disfunctional childhood. I naively thought I'd managed to put it behind me.
My mother was an alcoholic. She was violent, manipulative, dominating. My father's way of coping was to stay out of the house has much as possible and I saw little of him when I was younger. I'm the youngest of four siblings, by a way, and it's always been hard for me because while they were close to each other, to them I've always been the baby- too young to remember.
It doesn't help that all my mother's violence was aimed at the men in the family, while I being a girl, was mostly ignored.
I've been seeing a therapist for the last six months and am just beginning to feel like I'm getting somewhere. My mum died when I was 17, of a drug overdose- not so much suicide as attention seeking (it was something she did regularly), and my father died in the summer, from Alzheimer's. I had been caring for him, alone, up to the year before his death.
A lot of my memories of the past are hazy. I remember lying on the floor under my bed listening to my parent's fighting, but I've no memories of them fighting. I remember my brother trying to kill himself when he was 13 and I was 5, I remember my other brother locked in the garden with my mother one the phone pretending to ring social services to have us taken away. I remember enough, but even so I doubt myself.
I probably wouldn't be writing here if it hadn't been for Christmas. We've had a hard year. As well as dad dying, both my brother and sister have broken up with their partners because of the way they were treated when our dad died. My brothers unexpectedly turned up at my sisters house at Christmas, and the three of them seemed intent on getting drunk. Certainly my brothers struggle with alcohol. I don't drink at all.
Anyway, I don't know if I can say this, but one of my brothers got into a conversation with me about how isolated I am from them. I am, but I don't feel it's of my own making- I'd love to be closer to them but they all left, and left me to deal with my dad alone after my parents divorce when he wasn't capable of looking after himself let alone me. They don't even know me as a person, and from the outside I seem very different to them. But what really got to me was when we started talking about the past and he said that I 'took it personally', and what I had to do was learn to laugh at it. Then he tried to tell me mum was a really nice person underneath. I have no memories of her sober. Not one. And she really wasn't nice drunk, so him telling me I should like her- I can't do anything with that.
But it's been a fortnight and I'm still a mess. I feel like I've been running from that conversation ever since but it keeps catching up with me and when it does I get stuck in all the old thoughts, thinking I'm worthless, a fraud, unlike- able. I can't focus on anything for more than about twenty minutes and when I meet up ŵith people I keep thinking they're wondering why I'm there. I need to snap out of this.
Sorry it's a bit of an essay.
Jacqueline.
I've just found this forum through Pete Walker's book on complex PTSD. I'm still coming to terms with the fact that I'm still suffering from PTSD due to my hugely disfunctional childhood. I naively thought I'd managed to put it behind me.
My mother was an alcoholic. She was violent, manipulative, dominating. My father's way of coping was to stay out of the house has much as possible and I saw little of him when I was younger. I'm the youngest of four siblings, by a way, and it's always been hard for me because while they were close to each other, to them I've always been the baby- too young to remember.
It doesn't help that all my mother's violence was aimed at the men in the family, while I being a girl, was mostly ignored.
I've been seeing a therapist for the last six months and am just beginning to feel like I'm getting somewhere. My mum died when I was 17, of a drug overdose- not so much suicide as attention seeking (it was something she did regularly), and my father died in the summer, from Alzheimer's. I had been caring for him, alone, up to the year before his death.
A lot of my memories of the past are hazy. I remember lying on the floor under my bed listening to my parent's fighting, but I've no memories of them fighting. I remember my brother trying to kill himself when he was 13 and I was 5, I remember my other brother locked in the garden with my mother one the phone pretending to ring social services to have us taken away. I remember enough, but even so I doubt myself.
I probably wouldn't be writing here if it hadn't been for Christmas. We've had a hard year. As well as dad dying, both my brother and sister have broken up with their partners because of the way they were treated when our dad died. My brothers unexpectedly turned up at my sisters house at Christmas, and the three of them seemed intent on getting drunk. Certainly my brothers struggle with alcohol. I don't drink at all.
Anyway, I don't know if I can say this, but one of my brothers got into a conversation with me about how isolated I am from them. I am, but I don't feel it's of my own making- I'd love to be closer to them but they all left, and left me to deal with my dad alone after my parents divorce when he wasn't capable of looking after himself let alone me. They don't even know me as a person, and from the outside I seem very different to them. But what really got to me was when we started talking about the past and he said that I 'took it personally', and what I had to do was learn to laugh at it. Then he tried to tell me mum was a really nice person underneath. I have no memories of her sober. Not one. And she really wasn't nice drunk, so him telling me I should like her- I can't do anything with that.
But it's been a fortnight and I'm still a mess. I feel like I've been running from that conversation ever since but it keeps catching up with me and when it does I get stuck in all the old thoughts, thinking I'm worthless, a fraud, unlike- able. I can't focus on anything for more than about twenty minutes and when I meet up ŵith people I keep thinking they're wondering why I'm there. I need to snap out of this.
Sorry it's a bit of an essay.
Jacqueline.