- Post starter
- #13
Thank you all so much for your replies.
My parents are loving parents, they never abused me, neglected me, and have always been there for me. Communication has been rough some times, to the point they asked if I rather lived with my aunt. But there was always love. It's not easy on parents either when you have a child with all those psychiatric problems, and I know they've done the best they could.
When I was hospitalized they didn't get any information. Where I live, when you are sixteen you have the right to make your own decisions medically. My parents never heard about anything that went on, besides what I told them, because our relationship was very rough at the time, I didn't tell them much.
I definitely think I was overworked. I was a complete workaholic, looking back that had a lot to do with avoidance. I was always working, never took time to relax. Lost all my friends. I was a controlfreak in every aspect. I think I was overworked when I called in sick, but then all the PTSD symptoms kicked back in.
I had a chatsession with my psychologist from the suicide hotline. Im still waiting for proper treatment, and the goal of these chatsessions are to try to reduce my suicidal thoughts. We've concluded that establishing a proper support system is the way to go. We've made real progress with my husband (who practically got overwhelmed when I had flashbacks or panic attacks or really depressive episodes, and reacted, well, not optimal). We've now gotten to my parents, who I love.
I actually wrote a letter to my mother, not explaining what happened, but telling her how I feel when she denies my diagnoses. That I can't tell her because I trust practically no one with that information. I was asking her to believe me.
After she read it she called if she could come over, I accepted and we had a really good talk, and a good cry. She said she believes me. We talked about how we communicate, what we felt. It was really nice.
I realize I close up when someone hurts me, dont show it and dont tell that theyve hurt me. Communication goes both ways.
Im really happy I got to have this talk, where I could explain how I felt without having to 'proof' anything. The letter was a good opening, because I could really say and explain what I wanted to say, how it made me feel what she was saying.
My mother has one time been attacked in a park when she was a teenager, two guys touched her and her friend in all kinds of places, then they run away. She once told me as if it was no big deal at all. She knows my PTSD is from 'something with sex', but she has no idea of the magnitude, and I'm not going to share that anytime soon.
My parents are loving parents, they never abused me, neglected me, and have always been there for me. Communication has been rough some times, to the point they asked if I rather lived with my aunt. But there was always love. It's not easy on parents either when you have a child with all those psychiatric problems, and I know they've done the best they could.
When I was hospitalized they didn't get any information. Where I live, when you are sixteen you have the right to make your own decisions medically. My parents never heard about anything that went on, besides what I told them, because our relationship was very rough at the time, I didn't tell them much.
I definitely think I was overworked. I was a complete workaholic, looking back that had a lot to do with avoidance. I was always working, never took time to relax. Lost all my friends. I was a controlfreak in every aspect. I think I was overworked when I called in sick, but then all the PTSD symptoms kicked back in.
I had a chatsession with my psychologist from the suicide hotline. Im still waiting for proper treatment, and the goal of these chatsessions are to try to reduce my suicidal thoughts. We've concluded that establishing a proper support system is the way to go. We've made real progress with my husband (who practically got overwhelmed when I had flashbacks or panic attacks or really depressive episodes, and reacted, well, not optimal). We've now gotten to my parents, who I love.
I actually wrote a letter to my mother, not explaining what happened, but telling her how I feel when she denies my diagnoses. That I can't tell her because I trust practically no one with that information. I was asking her to believe me.
After she read it she called if she could come over, I accepted and we had a really good talk, and a good cry. She said she believes me. We talked about how we communicate, what we felt. It was really nice.
I realize I close up when someone hurts me, dont show it and dont tell that theyve hurt me. Communication goes both ways.
Im really happy I got to have this talk, where I could explain how I felt without having to 'proof' anything. The letter was a good opening, because I could really say and explain what I wanted to say, how it made me feel what she was saying.
My mother has one time been attacked in a park when she was a teenager, two guys touched her and her friend in all kinds of places, then they run away. She once told me as if it was no big deal at all. She knows my PTSD is from 'something with sex', but she has no idea of the magnitude, and I'm not going to share that anytime soon.
