Let's see, where do I begin?
I'm new to the thought of having PTSD. I've been suffering from emotional flashbacks for as long as I can remember. I've been in and out of counseling 5 or 6 times over the past 20 some odd years and am entering it again for what I hope is the final time now. My first appointment was last week. That is when I was approached with the possibility of PTSD. I think I've finally found someone who "gets it".
My father committed suicide just before my 3rd birthday. I don't remember a lot but I do remember certain events that happened around the time of his death (and people say kids are too young to remember). My mother remarried when I was 5 or 6. There were 3 children from that marriage, each one special in their own right. There was the only boy, the girl with the heart condition and of course the baby girl. I watched them being raised lovingly by both my mother and step father. I on the other hand wasn't so lucky.
My mother made sure that life was a daily battle for me in that house. Nothing I did was good enough, I was never well behaved enough, and she would tell me horrible things about my father and then the ultimate "and you're just like him". She made sure I knew I wasn't good enough and would amount to nothing. She constantly set me up for failure as well. She isolated me from my father's side of the family and people in general. On the occasions that I was allowed to see relatives on my father's side of the family I was reminded that I was not to talk about my father with them (if you do it will hurt their feelings and you don't want to do that). She could find no good in me whatsoever and never missed an opportunity to let me know that. She wanted me to be a carbon copy of her and I couldn't be more different from her if I tried. I was completely and utterly unloveable.
My step father on the other hand just wasn't there for me. I wasn't his child. He didn't go out of his way to tell me this but I remember sitting on the couch watching him holding, singing and adoring his children wishing he would do the same with me but knowing he never would. For whatever reason, right or wrong, he supported my mother completely in everything she did. They were a united front. For whatever reason he did try to talk to me about not being able to hold me on his lap like one of his own but for me he was just confirming what I already knew and I wanted no part of his guilt trip so I walked out on the conversation before he could finish. My step father died in the early 80s.
After I got divorced from my abusive alcoholic husband I moved in with my mother against my better judgement. What a mistake that was!!!! It was a huge trigger for me. She picked right up where she left off when I moved out of the house as a teenager. She didn't miss a beat. What made things even worse was she carried her treatment of me over to my kids. She treated them no better. The day she gave me the choice between having a place to live and my children was the day I walked away and never looked back. I walked away from my entire family. I knew it was the only way I was going to be able to put an end to it. It was the best thing I could have done for myself.
I can like myself when she's not in my life. I don't second guess everything I think do and feel when she's not around. For the most part life has been good since I walked out of her life. I met my current husband and remarried. He's a wonderful man who accepts me as I am. He's patient with me when I've been triggered and have a derailment. Unfortunately he's also been the occasional target of my irrational anger when I've been triggered. He tries his best to understand even then.
The thought that I have PTSD is both a relief and angers me at the same time. It's a relief in that someone has finally figured out what's going on with me and why I keep getting derailed by my childhood. At the same time I'm angry because it is a direct result of what I suffered at the hands of my own mother. Being a mother myself I find it hard to understand how a mother can treat her child the way she treated me. Love in my family is very conditional.
I'm gald I finally found this forum. Things are finally making sense to me after reading many of the posts on here. It's nice to finally know that I'm not alone in this and that there are others who silently suffer as well.
I'm new to the thought of having PTSD. I've been suffering from emotional flashbacks for as long as I can remember. I've been in and out of counseling 5 or 6 times over the past 20 some odd years and am entering it again for what I hope is the final time now. My first appointment was last week. That is when I was approached with the possibility of PTSD. I think I've finally found someone who "gets it".
My father committed suicide just before my 3rd birthday. I don't remember a lot but I do remember certain events that happened around the time of his death (and people say kids are too young to remember). My mother remarried when I was 5 or 6. There were 3 children from that marriage, each one special in their own right. There was the only boy, the girl with the heart condition and of course the baby girl. I watched them being raised lovingly by both my mother and step father. I on the other hand wasn't so lucky.
My mother made sure that life was a daily battle for me in that house. Nothing I did was good enough, I was never well behaved enough, and she would tell me horrible things about my father and then the ultimate "and you're just like him". She made sure I knew I wasn't good enough and would amount to nothing. She constantly set me up for failure as well. She isolated me from my father's side of the family and people in general. On the occasions that I was allowed to see relatives on my father's side of the family I was reminded that I was not to talk about my father with them (if you do it will hurt their feelings and you don't want to do that). She could find no good in me whatsoever and never missed an opportunity to let me know that. She wanted me to be a carbon copy of her and I couldn't be more different from her if I tried. I was completely and utterly unloveable.
My step father on the other hand just wasn't there for me. I wasn't his child. He didn't go out of his way to tell me this but I remember sitting on the couch watching him holding, singing and adoring his children wishing he would do the same with me but knowing he never would. For whatever reason, right or wrong, he supported my mother completely in everything she did. They were a united front. For whatever reason he did try to talk to me about not being able to hold me on his lap like one of his own but for me he was just confirming what I already knew and I wanted no part of his guilt trip so I walked out on the conversation before he could finish. My step father died in the early 80s.
After I got divorced from my abusive alcoholic husband I moved in with my mother against my better judgement. What a mistake that was!!!! It was a huge trigger for me. She picked right up where she left off when I moved out of the house as a teenager. She didn't miss a beat. What made things even worse was she carried her treatment of me over to my kids. She treated them no better. The day she gave me the choice between having a place to live and my children was the day I walked away and never looked back. I walked away from my entire family. I knew it was the only way I was going to be able to put an end to it. It was the best thing I could have done for myself.
I can like myself when she's not in my life. I don't second guess everything I think do and feel when she's not around. For the most part life has been good since I walked out of her life. I met my current husband and remarried. He's a wonderful man who accepts me as I am. He's patient with me when I've been triggered and have a derailment. Unfortunately he's also been the occasional target of my irrational anger when I've been triggered. He tries his best to understand even then.
The thought that I have PTSD is both a relief and angers me at the same time. It's a relief in that someone has finally figured out what's going on with me and why I keep getting derailed by my childhood. At the same time I'm angry because it is a direct result of what I suffered at the hands of my own mother. Being a mother myself I find it hard to understand how a mother can treat her child the way she treated me. Love in my family is very conditional.
I'm gald I finally found this forum. Things are finally making sense to me after reading many of the posts on here. It's nice to finally know that I'm not alone in this and that there are others who silently suffer as well.
