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The journey begins ... or continues ... articulating the rollercoaster that is my life

So I have stuck to no alcohol.
Feeling all sorts of things as well as numb.
I'm feeling needy. I'm so hungry for motherlove. I am someone starved of it. I've had to give out a lot of it though.
I'm so uptight I wanted to get back on the weed the other day, but I feel like it's already set me back emotionally a lot. Or maybe that's just the "developmental trauma".
I'm a tiger pacing in a cage.
A mama tiger who's had her cubs taken off her.
I'm a weary hag.
I need to tap into to one of my inner healthy people. This one is the "crazy lady in the attic".
My teeth are very grindy and my psyatica, no, I know it's not spelled like that but it's playing up.
Stuck in the attic of my mind.

Tomorrow I will go to my uni gym and do yoga.

I am so not enlightened today. Today I am in the dark, smelly, musty, dusty, cob weby attic with a lump in my throat and a bum pain and I'm bleeding and my "down there" hurts.

Where is that small, hurt child?
Where oh where is she?
She is hiding in a grotty corner, her face is smudged with tears and dirt, her lashes look like they've been rained on. She is so lonely and afraid. So neglected, like the little match girl, she is cold and raggy. A little raggamuffin.
Come to me, my darling. Let me comfort you.
 
I went back to yoga! So proud of myself.
And, I've made huge progress in that I recently started going down to the creek near my old house.
The house of my own personal hell and nearly-undoing.
Two of my wonderful son's were going to hang out with me there, but one, my oldest ended up staying to help his Dad with something. I felt resentful and cynical, thinking Dad manipulated him out of coming down to see me. Of course I might be wrong but my cognitively distorted psyche says, of course he tries at every turn to turn my children and keep my children away from me and from loving me. But he is losing the battle. They all love me. Deep down.they know that i have been a victim in all this. A victim who has always suffered from c-ptsd, their whole lives I have been.suffering from this God Damn illness (sorry folks, for my bad language, but this level of shitty suffering for this long needs strong expletives). I feel sooooo much grief, guilt, inadequacy, shame and empathetic projective pain for my children having this burden.

The humiliation, will it ever abate?

Anyway, I quickly put that behind me, because my beautiful son, who is 19 and a delightful young man, came down and spent time with me. He had been.feeling a bit stressed as a very old friend? Acquaintance? A lady I knew from my first days in the area 29 years ago, and from Kuranda, when I tried to escape the relationship with my first baby at 18.

I slept outside her house, in the rainforest, with my 7 mth old for a few days, also slept on the beach near the Daintree, lucky we didn't or my baby boy didn't get eaten by a crocodile!

That was the one who Dad called away from seeing me. I think he's still manipulatable but I know he stood up to his Dad recently coz he told me.

So
Anyway Digressions, my 19 year old was stressed because that lady had been over to their house and is obviously not real well in the mental health department. She basically talked at them all night.

I was emphasizing good boundaries and self-care to my son and he is pretty receptive. I told him about co-dependancy but he assured me he's not like that at all. If anything he shuts down a bit to survive. He had been very socially withdrawn in the past and had a meltdown and damaged his hand punching and destroying his door not that long ago.

We are really starting to rebond though. It still kills me a little that I lost years with them. I hung on to my kids for dear life but that's just wrong, when the father treats you as bad as mine did and the children grow up in that. I am so humiliated for being a victim and for having this damn disorder!
 
What I wrote above made me cry when I wrote it and rereading it now has me welling up again.
A LOT of charge around that stuff.

Before I left I tried so hard to get my baby Dada to help me, to realize I was really ill I was really ill on so many levels. I told the hospital staff that I felt like I had just come out of the third world, when I finally left him. It didn't go down well. They clearly just thought I was coo coo and just wanted me to disappear.

I only got medical physical diagnosis from this wacky homeopath that a wacky ex friend (now ex friend) insisted I go and see. She had this diagnostic machine. She told me I had to get out of this town. She saw a skull hanging over it. She said I had
Cysts on my ovaries
Lots of deficiencies
Was very "toxic" full of pollutants
Lymphatic system was full of mucus
"So many parasites its like I'd lived in India my whole life"
My lungs were close to collapsing (too many billys every day)
I was in constant extreme pain in my digestive system. I had "blasto" bad.
I couldn't sleep and couldn't remember how long it had been since I'd slept.

The day the hospital threw me out, after sending the psych nurse in to talk to me, who asked me " have you heard voices?" I told him yes but not for years, he said "well it looks like you might be mildly schizophrenic, but it's ok" and he sent me back out into the street (I was homeless at that stage). I was throwing up and pooing out blood. You can't tell you are bleeding blood out through your anus though, your poop just.looks very dark, kind of black.

The hospital had told me "oh we don't treat digestive disorders, you'll have to go and see a doctor".

Baby Dada Al told my kids "your mum's a hypochondriac". Told me I was as well. By that stage, I lost my shit. I told him, well you are a pedo. And that's because he treated me so bad, from 16 to 37 and he was twice my age at 16

According to him...

I was either "crazy" (only in a way that negated me, not like compassion for someone with a mental.illness). But when I begged him to admit me to a psych hospital, he wouldn't.

Or a hypochondriac. But again, not as if that was a mental illness that requires compassion, support and treatment. Which it is, but I don't suffer from hypochondria.

No, I'm more the opposite, keep going and going and looking after everyone else even when I'm really ill myself, until I'm so Ill and even then,.I'm worried about everyone else more than myself but I just can't function any more.

After he finally had to admit I'd actually been So ill I was kind of dying. The recovery story is a long one so I won't go into it here. He had to admit because my wacky friend and my now boyfriend came with me to the homeopaths and they saw how worried the homeopath was. She told them "she's worth fighting for." So eventually, he had to admit, I'd been so Ill, I honestly thought I would die, that's why I left my children. No. Other. Reason.
He said, in a very resentful, judgey, condemny way "Well I would have died, it would have been the honourable way out."

So pissed I didn't die, instead of leave him.
I'm dishonourable for being alive.

Also, I call bull shit. He's waaaaay too selfish and cowardly. He could have just treated me kindly. Looked after me. Gotten me help and medical care when I needed it. I would probably stayed with him, because I never wanted my children to suffer like I did and my parents separated and my life was hellish, growing up. So hellish, I stayed with a lying, hateful, manipulative, selfish, drug addicted narcissist for 20 years, because it was just more of the same shit, only I had my beautiful children that meant more than anything to me.
 
So I got my trauma clinic info in the post today. I'm so going.
I need some health insurance though.
It's a private hospital, no way I could afford to get in otherwise.
I have a Drs appointment tomorrow.
It's a doc recommended to me by my peer support study buddy who works in mental health reform now. We bonded over sharing DV experiences and recovery from them. I go dancing with her and stay up at hers sometimes. Her PTSD is kind of worse than mine, she talks to herself a lot, but she works, earns money, travels, and has lost her extra weight whereas I do none of those things, yet.

She said "He's very good with trauma stuff."
So I'm taking my trauma clinic info and hoping to get support and referral for an admission. Plus I got a recommendation for a local clinical psych, who's apparently also "very good with trauma." I got that from the student counselor I saw up at uni the other day, when I was trying to stave off a minor panic attack when waiting for my ex to drop off our youngest. So I'm hoping he will give me a mental health plan to see this psych.
 
I am on an upward trajectory.
My dancing queen got homage paid.
Ragga queen I've been called
Soul Mama too, it's true
They clapped and cheered, yesterday
Called "the hero of the day"
What a compliment to pay!
Nyah in her Rasta glory
My liberated self
Dancing, dancing, to Reggae
Wild and free and whole
My "crazy" in a good way
A young woman said I made her happy
To see me dance; so free I felt, so whole, complete, contorting, unconstrained, leaping, winding, unbound, bounding, shudder, shaking, I did make, the dancefloor come alive
Expressive me, I'm wild and free, my trauma shaken loose, this Nyah Queen was seen jivin' on Halloween.
 
I want to talk about the night that poem previous, was written about, but perhaps not yet. Lots of things welling up. Too appointments yesterday that has me ripped open. One with my "interim" student counsellor, up at uni. She was good, but didn't want to see me again, which triggered me a little. Instead had me book in an appointment with my usual psych, but not until next month so that's a fair while away. I wondered if my stuff was just to big, too multi-layered, too raw, too much of a chronic plate of pain, trauma, and disadvantage.

I have recently become aware that I'm always trying to protect my T's, whoever they are, from too much of my pain, the extent of my PTSD and all the terrible experiences that went into making this disorder.

Too much domestic abuse makes me overly hypervigilant about doing anything to incur wrath and rejection.

Plus the damaging experiences with various doctors, our local hospital and (very bad anti-anybody culture) psych clinic, and that horrible psychiatrist that graced me with the BPD. The doc that I saw on Monday was another voice to add to all the others disputing the BPD label.

So I now have a referral to see a clinical psychologist. My journey (I hope) with a psych qualified and up for it, begins. I have to be brave enough to go through some of the horror I've never gone into with any therapist. I was reading the near death thread on here and it got me thinking, did I "die" that time I got raped up the bum, was hospitalised but thrown out the same night (my stepdad came picked me up) left at my place, only to wake up with bruises and a sore arse and those monitoring buttons on my chest . So I asked my partner and had to divulge a bit more about what happened and he got angry about the rapist and how my mother neglecting me after it.

I felt so bad because I burdened him with that after a very gruelling day at work.
I also showed him my worst self-harm scar, that was a very near miss for taking me out, he said, on account of it being deep and very close to a main artery. My mother, typically, didn't bother taking me to a hospital or to anyone, probably because I did it as a result of her abuse.

I went down to his man cave and apologized profusely for burdening him with that stuff. I hate that he has to take on my pain and hurt towards my mum, on my account. Also he gets very protective and wants to reach in and take care of my inner child or inner teenager. It's very sweet and nurturing but I worry that it will contribute to too much of a build up for him, as he doesn't see anyone, gets no help other than from me, about all his trauma and his ptsd. He just smokes weed, drinks alcohol and listens to audio books, lectures and YouTube constantly, even all night.
 
(((@mumstheword ))):hug:
I just caught up on your last few posts. My son and his family were here for 4 days/5 nights and I sort of feel like I was "gone!":wacky: I loved every minute, but am in recuperating mode...

I am SO HAPPY that you have a psychologist! You are on the right path! Learning to take one day at a time is SO VERY hard... Especially when it feels like we are being chased by the past...right into the future! But, you are working on YOU, and it is the RIGHT thing to do!

I know it is more than difficult to start therapy with someone new, but try not to feel pushed or hurried... And know that you don't have to protect them from your truth. They are trained to deal with things that are out of the "norm."
(The one that you said didn't think she should see you, probably knew that it would be better for you to wait until you were connected with a therapist that could give you continuing care)
I will pray that this new T will be a good "fit."

You are doing really well at writing in your diary! I have been slacking on mine. Being on the go from waking up until falling asleep, has been fun, mostly, and brain numbing...

I am glad that you have your Sweetie, who wants to take care of you! He sounds like a God send! Try not to worry about him, too? It is ok to focus on you. REALLY!❤️

Keep up the good work, and be kind to yourself?
 
(((@mumstheword ))):hug:
I just caught up on your last few posts. My son and...

Thank you, once again, dear friend (((((((@AngelkeeperJ/AKJ )))))))) :-)
Things are on the up.
I have started back at uni too :-).

So happy to read/hear you had a good time with your beautiful fam :-).

I had a couple days off the journaling too. Head was too full, overwhelmed, tired, processing so much. It's good to just tune in and listening to your own heart and body about what's needed and to not be driving ourselves beyond what is helpful and kind to our recovery, I know this and it's a "work-in-progress".
Yesterday, after the psych appointment and the interview for the referral and Mental Health Plan, I was exhausted and ragged and no way could deal with journaling, I just wanted sleep, hugs and to switch off from all that "trauma stuff".

So triggered and teary yesterday. I started reading a book about a "Trauma Cleaner", it set me off loads, and peer supporting someone suicidal here, and lots of pain-memories and empathy floods me from exposure to that sort of stuff.

I am glad you are resting and pacing yourself. Having family over is a big big deal. Having anyone visiting is lots of energy going outwards but family is so emotionally huge, to be around, I find.

I haven't been able to tackle much reading of diaries. I am so grateful you have been sharing your energy and beautiful heart and mind and soul/spirit with me, by taking the time to come along on my journey with me and give me some hearty feedback. :-)
 
I am in a quandary about how to proceed. My parts are disputing and it renders me unable to act. No one is able to take charge when my parts won't get along. My mother self is very damaged and lots of her are in hiding. Just gone, dissociated, so time at home is very challenging. I feel I fake even being a mum for my kids and often revert to my child or teenage parts when I'm around my younger children, whom I have more to do with. My mother self is very heavily grieving and hurt. Too much abuse, maternal alienation, complicity in the abuse and denial of abuse by many of my children, neglect and trauma have rendered my.mother self very dissociated. She is hiding far away, licking her wounds and doesn't feel safe much.

My youngest son gets the most of me and he doesn't mind my child self joining him. He told his friend, in front of me, " I can have conversations with my mum that I'd have with a five year old, and I can.have conversations with her that I'd have with a quantum scientist". He's very smart and only twelve. We both have IQ's of 145.
 
(((Mother self))) Hugs and Love to you! You are safe...:hug:

I am SOOOO sorry that you are in...
Thank you Dear Friend :-)
I am getting by, by embracing some parts of me that I was having a very hard time accepting, and mostly by allowing my child self to be, and play. My guy is my safe person and my child self can safely come out and play, so that is what I'm allowing it to do.
I am back into the zentagling I started on Monday, so I'm drawing and being silly and watching my darling build a garden bed, so I'm ok! :-)

Thank you dear friend for caring. I am embracing my fractured self as it means some parts are able when others are not, and I must mother myself and all my parts as if they are my children, giving them attention and allowing them a say and attending to their needs.

It has been a hard journey to get here and realize why I fell apart when my guy went away. None of my parts were being given acknowledgement and my mother self and child and teenager parts are still very damaged and neglected, so when my safe person left, my child self (that I am a lot of the time) got too frightened.
My darling anchors me like no one can because I finally get to feel cared for and protected. So although I can't manage being a grown up very well at all at the moment, I am still ok.
 
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