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The Life Of An Introverted Victim

  • Post starter Post starter Kashi
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Kashi

Instead of dumping my life story all in one post, I'm just going to share ideas and thoughts I have daily in separate posts.

I had a revelation today. Like the title says, I'm an introvert; I don't like to talk. I see talking as a chore. Yet, in my state, talking actually relieves my stress. It takes the load off me like once a day. So I feel like I have to talk at least once a day. This is something I abhorr, but I guess I'll have to do things I don't want to do to lessen my PTSD symptoms, right?
 
Well done for stepping forward, if you can't vocalise what needs to come out try write it down or come here, we will all help and support you, through this illness whether you are the effected or the family/friends of the person who is, we all become family :) well done x
 
Today, I met with my therapist, and I want to jot a few of her notes down here.

First off, I revealed to her that I had schizophrenia in addition to PTSD. She's known me for years, and is curious about the schizophrenia. Like I've been silent for over a decade, so most of my life takes place in my head, not in the outside world. Moreover, she tells me to try to think about whether the voices in my head are from schizophrenia or the voices of people I remember hearing---the people of my memories. I need to try to differentiate which is true, because it would be difficult to know without having knowledge of whether I'm dissociating or daydreaming. That's why I need to know. I'm the only one with the keys to the answer. No one can use these keys but me. That's why I have to find out to get better.

She also said things about my past. I told her that I always reminisced about it to find the good things in it. But I would always find bad things in the end. I always wanted to believe I had a good past---I didn't. People from all sorts of backgrounds bullied the heck out of me. It was unbearable. So I have to accept my past the way it is, a very dark place that I don't need to be in. She instead suggested I move toward the future (I told her I never think about it). 'Who do I wanna be?' 'Who do I wanna be seen as?' 'What do I wanna see MYSELF as?'

These are the questions I need to think about for the next week.
 
Today, I watched Winnie Mandela, and it reminded me of high school.

Eventually, I get to the memory of the one person who actually listened to me and understood me. She was the only teacher I liked, so I wanted to make friends with her. But I ended up scaring her instead, and she's afraid of me and hates me now. I feel so ashamed. She treated me with the kindness no other person in the school has given me and this is how I repay her. My mom told me that at the IEP meetings she went to, the teacher always mentioned good things about me. It made it even worse, knowing that she's lying in spite of the fact that I've done horrible, horrible things to her. And now, I'm stuck with this guilt.
 
@Kashi I'm an introvert; I don't like to talk
This sounds like me!!! People at work think I'm cranky but I just hate talking. I have to force myself to talk to them but I can't say too much. I feel I will let out something about my past abuse. And I've never been very good at small talk eg weather sports etc. I would rather just stay quiet , do my work and go home
 
Remembering that this teacher also bullied and stalked me in secret somehow gives me peace, that I don't need to feel this guilt.
 
Today, I remembered that in high school there was this girl who kept trying to tell everyone about my past to make them hate me more.

It was a difficult situation. She always brought up habits and mannerisms I used to do in high school and tried to force those images on my character. I hated that character so much. That's why I wanted to change, in middle school AND high school. But no one would let me. They just kept spreading my past reputation to other people to get them to hate me, and they tormented me by treating me like that person. It was horrible. What was so wrong about wanting to shed an old shell? Why couldn't they just let me be?

Anyway, the girl kept telling everyone in class how I was a bad egg in elementary. She kept bugging me to confirm it, and kept insisting that I was that person. I was never that person; I was just acting for the enjoyment of other people. In the end this was how I got repaid. Being known by everyone in the school as a sociopathic bully who only causes trouble. I was tired of that reputation; but at the same time, I wanted to make friends. So I just kept saying hi to people, but they got scared. The teachers AND students all scolded me for picking on them. They said I 'loved' to scare people. This was only because I followed the crowd in elementary that did this very thing. But no one would let that slide. No one. And that's partly why my high school career was so damn hard.

The other reasons I shall leave for another time.
 
I had an epiphany recently.

For the last year or so, I've always thought talking about my memories would help alleviate my stress. However, I've come to realize that it doesn't solve it. In my above post, I talked about a memory I had. But long after posting that message, even I'm afraid of reading it. I'm sure a lot of people are too. It's a chore to listen to the angst of teenagers, right? I've been focusing on the past too long, and I've been blaming my PTSD as an excuse for my inability to move forward. But I still have some control over it. I'm not that helpless. My therapist recommended trying to focus on the future whenever I can, because whenever I focus on the past, I tend to stay there. My mom has been saying this for several months, but only now do I get what she means. I get what a lot of people mean now.
 
I started to think about my mom today, and my dealings with the past.

Sometime ago, she told me about how she and my dad got married. Initially, she was in love with another person in her home country. But she had to immigrate, and her love was deserted. Here, in the state I lived, she settled for my dad, and had three children with him. Unfortunately for us, he grew more and more distant as time passed. They no longer do anything now. Not with each other. My mom immediately regretted leaving her hometown for this place, but she never looked back. She was always fixed on the present, never focused on what could have been. When I think of how much effort she puts into us, I start to wonder about myself. 'Am I doing the right thing by dwelling on the past?' If she took so much time to focus on me and my condition, then why can't I? I just dwell and dwell on these memories and she tries so hard to fix what she has now. Gotta make lemonade from an orange somehow, right?
 
You know, thinking about my life has really made me realize something---I always need something to fight against.

In middle school, the thing I was always fighting against was social acceptance. I didn't want to lose my identity and strove hard to seclude myself from anyone that might compromise it. I think I still feel this way now. In high school, I was fighting against vicious students and teachers, who bullied me chronically. They always stalked me and messed with my emotions so much, I always gave smartass replies to get back at them. It was a satisfying feeling, fighting against people; as I type this, I think that's why I acted like a bully in high school.

But now, I have nothing to fight against but the memories of fighting against something in the past. Now, I'm not so sure I want to get rid of my PTSD completely, and I feel just typing that sentence. 'I don't want to get rid of my PTSD.' I'm so obsessed with fighting, it's become so naturally a part of me as breathing or blinking. I know I should type "I have to get past my obsessions to fight to relieve myself of this disorder", but I'm not fully confident in saying that sentence.

As I was writing this sentence: "sure, my family's important to me, and I don't want them supporting me all my life" it dawned on me. I really DON'T want them supporting me all my life. I don't want the remainder of their lives to be filled with misery and burden. Are those really the thoughts I want them to close with? They have lives, too. I can't bear taking those lives from them. It would just be too awful for me to bear. And what of my life? I have one to live, too. If I keep fighting these memories, I'll grow old to regret it. And I'll have wasted my life on something for which my continued efforts will and always will be futile.
 
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