- Thread starter
- #13
Thanks Angel, that will put me to sleep tonight. I am not alone. And neither are you.
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Wanting To Break The Isolation Of C-PTSD
- Thread starter bluecat
- Start date
- Status
Thanks Angel, that will put me to sleep tonight. I am not alone. And neither are you.
hi Bluecat
and welcome. It's difficult to "get out og" a flashback, my expirience tell me doing something that conects you to this world helps, like outloud telling your self how the chair, table, pictures etc. looks like, color, seize, etc.
Your can also activate your feet, by folding paper or something like that, but it's not always you have paper by your side, you should find what helps you the most, like music :-)
Rune
and welcome. It's difficult to "get out og" a flashback, my expirience tell me doing something that conects you to this world helps, like outloud telling your self how the chair, table, pictures etc. looks like, color, seize, etc.
Your can also activate your feet, by folding paper or something like that, but it's not always you have paper by your side, you should find what helps you the most, like music :-)
Rune
Clydiechick
Silver Member
Hi
Welcome to the forum, you are in excellent company. I hope you find some comfort here.
Clydiechick
Welcome to the forum, you are in excellent company. I hope you find some comfort here.
Clydiechick
Hi Bluecat,
I am just learning what my flashbacks ARE, I used to think they were panic attacks, until my therapist taught me how to zero in on what part of me was actually screaming for attention. Usually it's my stomach. So now instead of trying to make myself throw up, I sit still, and just feel it. It's awful. I took a trip out of town a few weeks ago, and was triggered by the end of another potential relationship, and I let myself cry for the entire four hour drive. Four hours! And I remember how my therapist told me to just try and think of how old I felt while I was crying, and I realized I felt like my four year old nieces. And I let myself cry the whole way back. It was exhausting.
So I'm not sure if that's a tip or not, but just try listening to yourself, fighting it makes it a lot worse. I also feel incredibly dizzy, and 'blurry' a lot, when it's happening, like I'm falling. Apparently that's part of the processing.
Good luck, look forward to reading more of your posts.
I am just learning what my flashbacks ARE, I used to think they were panic attacks, until my therapist taught me how to zero in on what part of me was actually screaming for attention. Usually it's my stomach. So now instead of trying to make myself throw up, I sit still, and just feel it. It's awful. I took a trip out of town a few weeks ago, and was triggered by the end of another potential relationship, and I let myself cry for the entire four hour drive. Four hours! And I remember how my therapist told me to just try and think of how old I felt while I was crying, and I realized I felt like my four year old nieces. And I let myself cry the whole way back. It was exhausting.
So I'm not sure if that's a tip or not, but just try listening to yourself, fighting it makes it a lot worse. I also feel incredibly dizzy, and 'blurry' a lot, when it's happening, like I'm falling. Apparently that's part of the processing.
Good luck, look forward to reading more of your posts.
- Thread starter
- #18
The Flashback Is Lifting, Thanks For Helping Me Out
:occasion: So my flashback is finally subsiding. I really believe talking to you guys in here is what made the difference.
So, bellow here I've written where I was for the past few days and why I am so grateful that someone was there with me and helped me pull out. Note, if you read on, this may be triggering and is also really long and generally not worth your time, lol.
When I was a kid, my home was a dangerous place. My father, who can be very charming to the outside world, terrorized my mother, my sisters (five of them) and me. He had an amazing nose for any "weakness" and he targeted it like a hawk. If you made the slightest mistake on your homework, or showed the slightest fear, need of any kind, even something as basic as hunger, being cold, or tired, or wanting friendship or love, sometimes even if you asked a question, like what is the meaning of a word or something, the response could be a demolishing explosion of rage. And I mean demolishing, a total wipe-out. And to make it more confusing, sometimes he would get enraged, if you didn't show those needs that I described above, because you were afraid to do so
He had a sadistic streak too, and loved to discipline us and try to make us "tough". The disciplinary actions, such as beatings with different tools, or pouring could water on you, or withdrawing food, I could take. They were humiliating, especially when we had to thank him for what he did to us - the little dickhead - and they were painful, but they had some logic to them, albeit twisted. I could imagine that I could prevent them by behaving better and thus control them. I could just clench my teeth, get the punishment over with and move on.
But I had no control over his rage, there was absolutely nothing I could do about it. Any self-defense made him more angry and to be honest, I wasn't capable of defending myself anyway. There was also a reason why I couldn't tell anyone on the outside. My father was involved in anti-government activities. This was behind the iron curtain, before 1989 and the secret police was after him (this is objectively true, not just some of his paranoid crap). I believed that if I told on him, I would be sending him to a political prison, where he would be tortured and possibly killed. I was also afraid they would take us kids from my family and place us in better ideologially suited environment, i.e. state orphanage. Today, I don't think either scenario was very likely, but back then I believed it, so I kept my mouth shut. I said nothing, even when he hurt my sisters, which I knew was wrong. I didn’t feel that way about me, but I knew they were innocent.
So home was a mindfield, but because of his political activities, so was school. My twin-sister and I, and a couple other unfortunate children whose parents were not in the party were placed on the black list. We would be summoned to stand in front of our class, with all our peers and would be friends staring at us. Then the teacher would explain that we were bourgeouis, dirty, rotten parasites, that suck the blood of the working people. This was in the ****ing eightees!!! Communism was already falling apart from the inside. It was already after reforms even in the party, where they turned a wheel towards what they called "communism with human face".
I don't know if my school was just behind or if we won the lottery with a jackpot of sadistic bitches for teachers. There was one that was especially enthusiastic. She went out of her way to make our lives more miserable than they already were. She would chase us out of the school's dining hall, because such parasites should not be allowed to eat. We were literally f***ed, because there was no food at home and now we had no food at school either. And obviously, I could not trust these people and tell them what was going on at home. Because of all this ostracization, I started to believe that the other children would never play with me. I ate it hook and all, really believed that I was as dirty and rotten as the teachers said and rather than risk a rejection, I kept to myself and didn't interact with anyone
One day, I was already older, it must had been late eightees, I somehow ended up being invited to play volleyball with a few boys and girls from my class. And I did and it was so much fun. Nobody was mean to me, nobody picked on me, I was like a normal happy kid. I was absolutely elated, you can't imagine what this meant to me. So I lost track of time and probably spent an hour there, before heading home. My father was there and he was furious. Before I could even understand what was happening, he seized me by my feet and held me suspended in the air upside down with one hand - an almost grown up kid, he was tall, strong and in great shape - and with the other hand he beat the crap out of me. I was completely overpowered, totally physically helpless and I thought he was finally going to kill me. Actually, saying 'thought' is not accurate, because there were no thoughts. Just his pure, raw rage and my shock. I don't remember how it ended, probably with me sobbing hysterically and him kicking me with disgust and telling me I am a coward who can't even take her punishment
So what did I conclude from this? That my father is a psychopath? No, not until almost two decades later. Back then, I thought it was my fault. I allowed myself the indulgence of friends and play and happiness and this was the result. After this, I didn't try making friends again, until I left home, I think at 13.
There were many other instances like this, some involved me, some my sisters and mom. Many were just humiliating, but some threatened serious bodily harm, not even mentioning the distruction of things you cared about. My father pulled my elbow out of its socket when he was just having fun with me, being a good sport in a good mood. He was just such a lovely chap. I did not trust that I am safe around him even if he was calm, let alone when he got angry. It was impossible for me to gauge what was coming, so I really just tried to not make any mistakes at all, which was hard, since the rules didn't make much sense. Logic wasn't his strong suit. So I was constantly frozen in fear, barely breathing, not living my life out of fear that I'll make the last fatal mistake and it will be either me or worse, my mom or my sisters.
I am still like that, a perfectionist, overachiever, workoholic, never letting my guard down. I am even perfectionist about dealing with my PTSD. I work in science and have a pretty good understanding of psychology and neurobiology, so I learned everything I could about the molecular mechanism of the disorder, what clinical trials are under way for what therapeutics, how people respond to what type of trauma. And then I realized that this knowledge, while it helps me name and understand what it is I am dealing with, really doesn't do much for my recovery. The only way for me to heal was to get help from other people. With the help of my therapist, I've been able to understand how it affects my life and where it came from. I remember most of my life now and can put it into a narrative. I also learned to evaluate better what is right and wrong and how I can protect myself. I am better and better at recognizing when I am having flashbacks and have some healthy coping strategies.
What is still extremely difficult for me and what I've read other people voicing here, is basic trust. Ironically, I've never had a problem trusting strangers, a stranger has never hurt me. Just the people I know and should trust scare me, especially if I should have any needs around them at all. This weekend I spent freaking out over a mistake I made at work last week. The mistake was unfortunate but human. I was afraid that I’ll be judged by my colleagues, who are all very nice people. I fretted that they'll think that I am stupid and will reject me as a person. I have difficulty asking for anything anywhere, because it still makes me feel unsafe. I know its the damn behavior from my past and that it doesn't fit the situation anymore, but knowing that doesn't necessarily break it. Everyone at work is so calm, so well adjusted, intelligent, thoughtfull, and I don’t know how to talk to them. I am intimidated by normal people. I am afraid that I’ll say too much, cross some social line I am not aware of and then I'll be cast out and left alone.
Now after thinking all this through, I am feeling OK about going to work tomorrow. The worst that can happen is that I'll be fired, which is extremely unlikely. Nobody is going to beat me up, obviously, and if I feel ashamed for making a mistake, well, its OK, I can laugh about it. My boss will be stressed out, but he will just deal with it. And nobody will kill me. Yay.
So this is PTSD for me. Processing this shitload of crap just to reach such a simple conclusion.
:occasion: So my flashback is finally subsiding. I really believe talking to you guys in here is what made the difference.
So, bellow here I've written where I was for the past few days and why I am so grateful that someone was there with me and helped me pull out. Note, if you read on, this may be triggering and is also really long and generally not worth your time, lol.
When I was a kid, my home was a dangerous place. My father, who can be very charming to the outside world, terrorized my mother, my sisters (five of them) and me. He had an amazing nose for any "weakness" and he targeted it like a hawk. If you made the slightest mistake on your homework, or showed the slightest fear, need of any kind, even something as basic as hunger, being cold, or tired, or wanting friendship or love, sometimes even if you asked a question, like what is the meaning of a word or something, the response could be a demolishing explosion of rage. And I mean demolishing, a total wipe-out. And to make it more confusing, sometimes he would get enraged, if you didn't show those needs that I described above, because you were afraid to do so
He had a sadistic streak too, and loved to discipline us and try to make us "tough". The disciplinary actions, such as beatings with different tools, or pouring could water on you, or withdrawing food, I could take. They were humiliating, especially when we had to thank him for what he did to us - the little dickhead - and they were painful, but they had some logic to them, albeit twisted. I could imagine that I could prevent them by behaving better and thus control them. I could just clench my teeth, get the punishment over with and move on.
But I had no control over his rage, there was absolutely nothing I could do about it. Any self-defense made him more angry and to be honest, I wasn't capable of defending myself anyway. There was also a reason why I couldn't tell anyone on the outside. My father was involved in anti-government activities. This was behind the iron curtain, before 1989 and the secret police was after him (this is objectively true, not just some of his paranoid crap). I believed that if I told on him, I would be sending him to a political prison, where he would be tortured and possibly killed. I was also afraid they would take us kids from my family and place us in better ideologially suited environment, i.e. state orphanage. Today, I don't think either scenario was very likely, but back then I believed it, so I kept my mouth shut. I said nothing, even when he hurt my sisters, which I knew was wrong. I didn’t feel that way about me, but I knew they were innocent.
So home was a mindfield, but because of his political activities, so was school. My twin-sister and I, and a couple other unfortunate children whose parents were not in the party were placed on the black list. We would be summoned to stand in front of our class, with all our peers and would be friends staring at us. Then the teacher would explain that we were bourgeouis, dirty, rotten parasites, that suck the blood of the working people. This was in the ****ing eightees!!! Communism was already falling apart from the inside. It was already after reforms even in the party, where they turned a wheel towards what they called "communism with human face".
I don't know if my school was just behind or if we won the lottery with a jackpot of sadistic bitches for teachers. There was one that was especially enthusiastic. She went out of her way to make our lives more miserable than they already were. She would chase us out of the school's dining hall, because such parasites should not be allowed to eat. We were literally f***ed, because there was no food at home and now we had no food at school either. And obviously, I could not trust these people and tell them what was going on at home. Because of all this ostracization, I started to believe that the other children would never play with me. I ate it hook and all, really believed that I was as dirty and rotten as the teachers said and rather than risk a rejection, I kept to myself and didn't interact with anyone
One day, I was already older, it must had been late eightees, I somehow ended up being invited to play volleyball with a few boys and girls from my class. And I did and it was so much fun. Nobody was mean to me, nobody picked on me, I was like a normal happy kid. I was absolutely elated, you can't imagine what this meant to me. So I lost track of time and probably spent an hour there, before heading home. My father was there and he was furious. Before I could even understand what was happening, he seized me by my feet and held me suspended in the air upside down with one hand - an almost grown up kid, he was tall, strong and in great shape - and with the other hand he beat the crap out of me. I was completely overpowered, totally physically helpless and I thought he was finally going to kill me. Actually, saying 'thought' is not accurate, because there were no thoughts. Just his pure, raw rage and my shock. I don't remember how it ended, probably with me sobbing hysterically and him kicking me with disgust and telling me I am a coward who can't even take her punishment
So what did I conclude from this? That my father is a psychopath? No, not until almost two decades later. Back then, I thought it was my fault. I allowed myself the indulgence of friends and play and happiness and this was the result. After this, I didn't try making friends again, until I left home, I think at 13.
There were many other instances like this, some involved me, some my sisters and mom. Many were just humiliating, but some threatened serious bodily harm, not even mentioning the distruction of things you cared about. My father pulled my elbow out of its socket when he was just having fun with me, being a good sport in a good mood. He was just such a lovely chap. I did not trust that I am safe around him even if he was calm, let alone when he got angry. It was impossible for me to gauge what was coming, so I really just tried to not make any mistakes at all, which was hard, since the rules didn't make much sense. Logic wasn't his strong suit. So I was constantly frozen in fear, barely breathing, not living my life out of fear that I'll make the last fatal mistake and it will be either me or worse, my mom or my sisters.
I am still like that, a perfectionist, overachiever, workoholic, never letting my guard down. I am even perfectionist about dealing with my PTSD. I work in science and have a pretty good understanding of psychology and neurobiology, so I learned everything I could about the molecular mechanism of the disorder, what clinical trials are under way for what therapeutics, how people respond to what type of trauma. And then I realized that this knowledge, while it helps me name and understand what it is I am dealing with, really doesn't do much for my recovery. The only way for me to heal was to get help from other people. With the help of my therapist, I've been able to understand how it affects my life and where it came from. I remember most of my life now and can put it into a narrative. I also learned to evaluate better what is right and wrong and how I can protect myself. I am better and better at recognizing when I am having flashbacks and have some healthy coping strategies.
What is still extremely difficult for me and what I've read other people voicing here, is basic trust. Ironically, I've never had a problem trusting strangers, a stranger has never hurt me. Just the people I know and should trust scare me, especially if I should have any needs around them at all. This weekend I spent freaking out over a mistake I made at work last week. The mistake was unfortunate but human. I was afraid that I’ll be judged by my colleagues, who are all very nice people. I fretted that they'll think that I am stupid and will reject me as a person. I have difficulty asking for anything anywhere, because it still makes me feel unsafe. I know its the damn behavior from my past and that it doesn't fit the situation anymore, but knowing that doesn't necessarily break it. Everyone at work is so calm, so well adjusted, intelligent, thoughtfull, and I don’t know how to talk to them. I am intimidated by normal people. I am afraid that I’ll say too much, cross some social line I am not aware of and then I'll be cast out and left alone.
Now after thinking all this through, I am feeling OK about going to work tomorrow. The worst that can happen is that I'll be fired, which is extremely unlikely. Nobody is going to beat me up, obviously, and if I feel ashamed for making a mistake, well, its OK, I can laugh about it. My boss will be stressed out, but he will just deal with it. And nobody will kill me. Yay.
So this is PTSD for me. Processing this shitload of crap just to reach such a simple conclusion.
- Thread starter
- #19
Hi Daisy_May, thats a great tip. I also find the flashbacks much better behaved if I don't fight them. But its hard, I think everyone with PTSD is a fighter, we all survived something. Its still a challenge for me to just let things take their own course.
Oh man, that is brutal. You grew up as a POW. I know what it's like to be afraid of making mistakes, I too have a very quick mind and am incredibly efficient, I enjoy having everyone at work rely on me for all the answers and getting everything done. I am a workhorse, I put in six days a week, I work all holidays and usually rack up at least 100 hours every two weeks.
I completely relate to the feeling of not breathing, of being 'stiff' and hoping you are not seen or heard or else there will be serious hell to pay. This is truly life or death, your dad dislocated your elbow! The adult thing to do would be 1. not be so rough 2. take the child to the hostpital 3. apologize. My mom choked me in front of a few friends once, making me bend backward over the balcony and loudly laughing and shouting at me, horribly embarassing and incredibly painful--just saying I can relate.
I have also done a tonne of research on all this, and can intellectually calculate where my therapist is going with sessions. Two years it has taken me before I can let myself go and give up control of the session, to let myself actually be led by her. You have been through hell, and as an outsider. My family was also very poor, but not to the point of no food. We were denied food for control purposes, and outcasts because of my mother's erractic behaviour and disgusting appearance.
Thank you for sharing your story, I know precisely how it feels to be scared all the time. To just be exisiting and surviving, knowing that love and being happy and warm fuzzy feelings, and luxuries like being well groomed and nice clothes are for everyone else. Even to be included in social activities is hard, I also assume after a few months that everyone finds me horrid and will stop talking to me--this is due to my awkwardness, and not any personal faux pas, but the rejection is the same.
I hope you find some comfort here.
I completely relate to the feeling of not breathing, of being 'stiff' and hoping you are not seen or heard or else there will be serious hell to pay. This is truly life or death, your dad dislocated your elbow! The adult thing to do would be 1. not be so rough 2. take the child to the hostpital 3. apologize. My mom choked me in front of a few friends once, making me bend backward over the balcony and loudly laughing and shouting at me, horribly embarassing and incredibly painful--just saying I can relate.
I have also done a tonne of research on all this, and can intellectually calculate where my therapist is going with sessions. Two years it has taken me before I can let myself go and give up control of the session, to let myself actually be led by her. You have been through hell, and as an outsider. My family was also very poor, but not to the point of no food. We were denied food for control purposes, and outcasts because of my mother's erractic behaviour and disgusting appearance.
Thank you for sharing your story, I know precisely how it feels to be scared all the time. To just be exisiting and surviving, knowing that love and being happy and warm fuzzy feelings, and luxuries like being well groomed and nice clothes are for everyone else. Even to be included in social activities is hard, I also assume after a few months that everyone finds me horrid and will stop talking to me--this is due to my awkwardness, and not any personal faux pas, but the rejection is the same.
I hope you find some comfort here.
- Thread starter
- #21
I know, I am the same way. And then I get exhausted and mess something up, have to take a break, recover my energy and go at it again. And on top of that I feel guilty for not putting in that time and energy somewhere else. Its a viscious cycle. And you know what? I've been watching my co-workers, they are all succesfull and accomplished people respected in their field, and none of them works like this. They work hard, but take off at 5 pm to go to their families and don't come in on weekends. They go see a doctor during work hours if they need to see a doctor. They stay home if a repair man has to come. I used to get mad at them for "slacking off", not working harder, but lately I've been realizing that it's me who is off. So no more. I'm breaking the pattern. Today, I left at 6pm, even though there were still things to do and even though I just screwed up last week. I can continue tomorrow. Of course I got an anxiety attack on the way home, but it seems to be getting better. So far so good : )
Jeez, what a horrible woman, she gives me chills. You got your share of crap too. Reading through your posts, I see so many similarities between your mother and my father. What is it with psychopats and food rejection, cold water, balconies - my father loved to hold us over a cliff or out of a balcony too (we lived on the 10th floor of a highrise, what a moron). Thats actually how he disjointed my elbow, dangling me off of a bridge. Its so absurd, I am actually laughing. You know, when I think about it as an adult and realize the sheer stupidity of taking your kid and playing dare with gravity. I mean, how do you even get the idea. Well, I guess I don't care how he got the idea, better not try to psychoanalyze him, it's a waste of time, because he is who he is and I'll never be able to fix him.
Oh no, don't make comparisons, you can't compare things like this. The grand total of all childhood abuse comes to the same awful experience. I think you're very brave, not just because you survived all of it, but you're even working on creating a better life. Some people just never change and pass all the violence on, like our parents. My father's mother was very abusive. Hw had a very bad PTSD (besides being a psychopath, lol). He was even hospitalized for a couple months, when he started to have these massive break downs that looked like seizures. But, he never made the mental leap that what happened to him was wrong, because he could never face his own vulnerability and actually face that she hurt him. We are able to do that.
That was. Now love and friendship and comfort and pretty things are for you too : )
azsummergirl
New Here
Hi Blue,
Nice to hear that someone else does the monotonous music playing too. Maxing a song out is now how I will think of it. :)
I've mentioned it to others, but no one else has said that they do it. I've told non-sufferers and they raise a few eyebrows, lol.
So sorry to hear about how your father was. I had a very sadistic mother, who abused me and my brother physically, emotionally, and verbally, some neglect as well. I have problems trusting women and feeling safe around them. Also, all of the child abuse from her really set me up for sexual abuse from people outside of the family as a child.
I have flashbacks that are physical - and sometimes they sneak up on me, and it takes me a while to realize what I'm experiencing is a flashback. I have only been diagnosed for 10 months. Hopefully these will subside with treatment. :)
I also have paralyzing fear daily, and other emotional flashbacks. My therapist says I'm still in shock. Do we all just remain still in shock?
How do you work so hard? That's amazing to me.
Thanks for your posts and uplifting attitude.
Carrie
Nice to hear that someone else does the monotonous music playing too. Maxing a song out is now how I will think of it. :)
I've mentioned it to others, but no one else has said that they do it. I've told non-sufferers and they raise a few eyebrows, lol.
So sorry to hear about how your father was. I had a very sadistic mother, who abused me and my brother physically, emotionally, and verbally, some neglect as well. I have problems trusting women and feeling safe around them. Also, all of the child abuse from her really set me up for sexual abuse from people outside of the family as a child.
I have flashbacks that are physical - and sometimes they sneak up on me, and it takes me a while to realize what I'm experiencing is a flashback. I have only been diagnosed for 10 months. Hopefully these will subside with treatment. :)
I also have paralyzing fear daily, and other emotional flashbacks. My therapist says I'm still in shock. Do we all just remain still in shock?
How do you work so hard? That's amazing to me.
Thanks for your posts and uplifting attitude.
Carrie
BloomInWinter
VIP Member
Bluecat,
I wanted to share one other thing about group therapy.
I hate watching the suffering of women too. My paramedic years have several traumas involving the abuse & suffering of innocents that I just can't even open up any of those years of my life yet. It's too hard for me to begin.
I have found that in group therapy, what strikes me most is the amazing amount of strength and other gifts displayed by women while in the midst of their suffering.
It's like seeing just the bad news but never seeing the rebuilding/recovery. Group therapy gives me connection, relational reference to a real peer group I'd be highly unlikely to see anywhere else. It also shows me gifts of other women's personalities I'd have never noticed had I not seen them in action.
You might be surprised if you give it a chance.
I wanted to share one other thing about group therapy.
I hate watching the suffering of women too. My paramedic years have several traumas involving the abuse & suffering of innocents that I just can't even open up any of those years of my life yet. It's too hard for me to begin.
I have found that in group therapy, what strikes me most is the amazing amount of strength and other gifts displayed by women while in the midst of their suffering.
It's like seeing just the bad news but never seeing the rebuilding/recovery. Group therapy gives me connection, relational reference to a real peer group I'd be highly unlikely to see anywhere else. It also shows me gifts of other women's personalities I'd have never noticed had I not seen them in action.
You might be surprised if you give it a chance.
- Thread starter
- #24
Your mother sounds horrible, I am sorry you had to live with her. No wonder you don't trust women. I have the same thing with men. Rationally, I know my father was an abberation and as an adult I've met many more men who are kind and have integrity, than who are messed up, but I am still on guard around men. Especially if they have a big beard, lol. And I also made a lot of mistakes in my life getting involved with the wrong kind of people because I was trained to ignore fear and minimize danger. My exhusband was sadistic too. Now I can recognize it, but back then I was blind to it.
I think they will get better. They got better for me when I learned where they're coming from and healed those wounds. What do you do when you get physical flashbacks? I used to lie down in my bed, with soft blankets and a teddy bear (blushing, but it helped, that kind of comfort was a new experience for me) and just kind of pitty myself. My joints used to hurt, so I would just hold them or stroke them and tell them that I am sorry for the pain and that its going to get better. I guess I did for my memories what someone should have done for me back then. I don't remember when it stopped, it used to be very frequent at the beginning, and then come only once in a while and now I don't remember having one like that for years. You know I am still not sure what that was related to? I remember the pain from when I was a kid, but don't know what it was from.
It will get better over time and especially with therapy. And you're so much ahead of me, being here and reaching to other people, only 10 months into your diagnosis. It took me almost 10 years. Are you still in shock from something that happened 10 months ago or from realizing what you've been through? I was really shocked when I first remembered. I stored all the emotions of all the scary times I went through as a child for later, when I'd have the ability to deal with them. I was really shaken by it, my whole sense of the world and of who I was fell apart. It felt like I was a puzzle that was put together wrong and once it all fell apart, I could start picking the pieces and putting them into the right picture. Like realizing that violence is wrong, what happened to me was wrong - it sounds so basic, but I didn't know. It was shocking to admit that evil exists. But you have to, or you can't protect yourself from the bad people. For me, that was worth the shock and even getting PTSD, knowing what happened and having a chance to change my life and not pass the legacy on.
How do people balance work with fun and relaxation and pleasure? Thats what amazes me.
Thanks for your posts too, I feel so much better just from talking to you : )
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