Story For Explaining And Coping With Ptsd

[Phenioxrising]

Here's a story that I came up with awlie ago thats easy for others, as well as children to understand the effects of trauma and abuse.

As human beings were meant to do the best we can to survive. With parents or others that mean us harm, our minds arn't capable of dealing with the threat of death. Were meant to live and our minds can't process what might happen after the threat.

When under such duress our inner child escapes such threats into the relm, where such trauma is blocked from dealing with the nessary emotions of dealing with it. Children of abusers are taught to grow up fast, and not let to be themselves. Each time harm is threatened, the trauma adds up, and the babie's mind festers with the buildup of the damage done on our side.

When we manage to overcome,escape the abusers,we manage to live fairly normal lives. Going about day to day, makeing a liveing like everyone else. Untill such a trauma reacurs that brings a series of flashbacks. During that time is like an alarm into the relm, where the "dirty" baby is dropped back into our minds. Durring that time such repressed trauma explodes the mind wiht all the information of the past and also the emotions left to process, of such trauma. Leading us all deep into the rabit hole.

Hope this story may help some people, feel free to add onto it if you will.

 

[Deleted member 20280]

Your words have spoken volumes to me and I thankyou dearly.

I have over the years remembers horrors of childhood that disgusted me. Sorted them and dealt with them. Since seeing my psychologist I have had to go back even deeper because there has always been something back there I could not see.

I have been back in the room and have witnessed the true brutal horror that my mother inflicted me to thankyou again

 

[Lucasta]

I'm honestly not a big fan of explanations that involve fragmentation of the personality or an "inner child." I realize this concept helps a lot of people cope, and I'm not saying it's wrong. But for me, it's a lot more helpful to think of myself as having a single, integrated personality. The Lucasta who re-experiences trauma is the exact same Lucasta who does awesome, productive things. I might feel like I'm transported in time, but it's really important to me not to let myself disassociate and start to think that my flashbacks are happening to a part of me that isn't my normal self. This make me feel more in control, and allows me to better apply CBT strategies during flashbacks.


Again, I mean no disrespect to people who take a different view, and I understand that a lot of people find the concept of an "inner child" or fragmented personality very therapeutic. I think Phoenix's story is one good explanation of PTSD, it's just not mine.

 

[ExanimisRex]

One day you are just walking along looking at an absolutely beautiful day when suddenly everything goes black. You wake in darkness, surrounded by the smell of dust and dirt. Your mind searches for an explanation and your hands begin to explore your surroundings.

You begin to realize that you were knocked out, hit over the head so violently that you lost consciousness and that now you are inside some small dark box. You hear a rhythmic slash followed in time with a thump and you realize that you are being buried alive. The dirt pounds on the lid to the box growing quieter with each shovel thrown in. You struggle but there isn't any room, no were to brace yourself, no way to get any leverage that might help you to get out. With each passing moment the air gets thinner and dustier and you struggle with each breath until you are exhausted.

The sound of the shovel have stopped, whoever has buried you alive has completed their task and left you for dead. Fear has washed away any reason that you have ever possessed and you are more of an animal than you have ever been. The air thins even more and you lie there exhausted on the verge of total collapse the only sound now is the hard gasps for air rattling out of your body.

Suddenly you notice a slight, distant sound, you hold your breath and twist your ear toward the lid of your coffin. Yes! it's there, it's really there, the sound of digging, someone has found you, somebody knows that you are there and they are frantically digging down toward you. You claw against the coffin lid and shout for help. You plead for them to hurry and thank God for whoever it is that is going to rescue you.

The shovel digs against the wood of the box and you hear scraping as your savior brushes dirt off of the lid. The lid is pried open and light floods in blinding you. You gulp in the fresh air and cry thank you through tear strained gasps. Before your vision can clear and adjust to the flooding light you feel a crushing blow to the face.

You wake to the rhythmic sounds of a shovel throwing dirt onto the lid of your coffin. There was never anyone who was going to save you, there was never any hope of a rescue and you realize that your tormentor had taken the extra effort to dig you up, not to help you but to add a new lever of torment, to prolong your agony and the torture that you now endure.
End

My therapist once asked me to describe what my depression was like and that was the description that I gave. I suffer with being Bi polar as well as with PTSD. I'm not sure if I have an inner child it would depend on when you asked me but I do understand the depth of depression and unlike many people believe, you can't "just get over it".