While faith in something or other can be helpful, it's not necessary really (I'm not a God person, though I am very spiritual, if you know the difference), and even damaging if you have had negative experiences or learning around it. It sounds as if you have.
From your post it sounds as if you are simply exhausted in every way, particulary in having to meet the expectations of others and the obligation that arise from that. You say you've spent your entire life living for others. (I get this). When we do this, we often lose total track of who we are ourselves (vs. who others want us to be) and what we want. When that happens, as it has to me, it feels like the only choice is to keep doing what you're doing, or remove yourself. That's extreme thinking (typical of most of us who have PTSD). There is a whole potential life of longing and loving and losing lurking in between those extremes. But we need to be patient while we make our way to that middle ground.
The healing journey is excruciating, I think. I've been told that things are likely to get worse for me before they get better. That is hard to hear. For every little moment of hope, there seems to come a backlash of some sort of pain...sometimes blinding, scalding pain. Sometime pain that drives us to self-harm, to suicidal ideation, and even to suicide attempts...all attempts to escape the pain.
Our healing...if we want to heal...depends to great extent on to what extent we can tolerate this pain and use it to learn about ourselves, people we know, and how we fit into the world. If you've ever worked with or read about burn victims, you know that their physical healing process is hideous...as wounds begin to heal, they need to be abraded and cleaned so they can heal again. It is a cyclical, seemingly endless process, and easy to drown in the pain and lose hope, yet, at the end, so many will heal completely and be stronger and have more life force and healthier perspectives than many people who did not have that experience. They'll have scars. They won't forget the pain. Their lives will be different. They become survivors and thrivers.
I am so sorry you are going through all this pain. My heart is with you. I hope you will find the energy to hope, and to be able to gather up into a critical mass some of those tiny moments that make you see the possibilities in life.
From your post it sounds as if you are simply exhausted in every way, particulary in having to meet the expectations of others and the obligation that arise from that. You say you've spent your entire life living for others. (I get this). When we do this, we often lose total track of who we are ourselves (vs. who others want us to be) and what we want. When that happens, as it has to me, it feels like the only choice is to keep doing what you're doing, or remove yourself. That's extreme thinking (typical of most of us who have PTSD). There is a whole potential life of longing and loving and losing lurking in between those extremes. But we need to be patient while we make our way to that middle ground.
The healing journey is excruciating, I think. I've been told that things are likely to get worse for me before they get better. That is hard to hear. For every little moment of hope, there seems to come a backlash of some sort of pain...sometimes blinding, scalding pain. Sometime pain that drives us to self-harm, to suicidal ideation, and even to suicide attempts...all attempts to escape the pain.
Our healing...if we want to heal...depends to great extent on to what extent we can tolerate this pain and use it to learn about ourselves, people we know, and how we fit into the world. If you've ever worked with or read about burn victims, you know that their physical healing process is hideous...as wounds begin to heal, they need to be abraded and cleaned so they can heal again. It is a cyclical, seemingly endless process, and easy to drown in the pain and lose hope, yet, at the end, so many will heal completely and be stronger and have more life force and healthier perspectives than many people who did not have that experience. They'll have scars. They won't forget the pain. Their lives will be different. They become survivors and thrivers.
I am so sorry you are going through all this pain. My heart is with you. I hope you will find the energy to hope, and to be able to gather up into a critical mass some of those tiny moments that make you see the possibilities in life.
