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What Does Being __ Your Trauma__ Mean To You?

there are events in life that affect everything that comes after. The birth of my children, marriage, meeting my wife, etc.

Unfortunately, some events are negative too.

Divorce doesn't erase the marriage from a psyche for those who have had to deal with that. It adds another event that alters everything after.

therapy doesn't erase the negative events either.

PTSD is the name we use for the condition that follows the traumatic event. In my mind it is more like "life after being altered". PTSD is shorter, easier.

I am the product of all of my traumas, and as each of them got heaped on my ability to carry them was diminished. Now I worry that another one will break me and what was inconsequential earlier in my life will be the last bearable one some day soon.

Wouldn't it be great to remember traumas as events that made us stronger? Remember the time I spent ten years learning to save the lives of trauma victims and how to cast the traumatic memories out the window after they happened? Remember the time I built my resilience up to the point that another beating was just another period of time out of mind? Yes that would be great. Events that altered everything after them but for the better?

Therapy doesn't erase the negative events. Maybe time will, cant imagine anything else that might. Been working on finding something that would do it for a long time and i just havent found it yet.
 
My specific traumas have made me extremely vulnerable to the projections of others. Qualities people don’t like about themselves were cast onto me. Since early childhood, I have “contained” the suffering of others. It looks like being selfless, until the burden becomes too heavy. Then PTSD kicks in and I become selfish. The selfishness is usually what others notice because it creates a disturbance. The truth is it is all unbalanced. Being selfless leaves little room for the self. The PTSD symptoms fire and the scales tip to the other extreme. One extreme is harmonious and acceptable. The other is not. I suspect a CSA incident around the age of 3-5 but I have no specific memory.

My trauma makes me wonder who I am. How many of my internal experiences are inherent to me? How many belong to me vs how many of these experiences do I experience because I have absorbed pain and shameful projections of others? I experience mental manifestations and physical sensations of these projections. Some of which can be disturbing. I do my best to not act on them. I am proud of this. Despite what people may think, I have a strong willpower to not act when these impulses arise. Of course, unless the cup is completely full or pushed to its limit.

There was a time where I had developed a somewhat solid sense of self. Late teens, early 20s. It was cut down by the people I chose share my life with. People close to me. People who were too immature to have any business dating. I was betrayed. The betrayal involved a failure to communicate basic needs, and the resentment that built from my failure being able to meet these needs, and my inability to read the mind of my frustrated partner, who couldn’t be bothered to speak to me. Infidelity followed, then digital stalking, harassment, emotional and narcissistic abuse, physical abuse, exploitation, intellectual fraud, and a melody of human rights violations.

This nearly developed sense of self of mine was explicitly undermined, commodified, and shattered.

In retrospect, this relationship was never equal. Not really. This individual relied on me for his self-esteem and ultimately much of his own self-concept. I was young, dumb, none the wiser back then. I was giving too much of myself. This is what I had done at home. I knew no other way to live.

When he realized he had more needs than I could offer, he denied himself and his needs because his self-esteem, that he could not generate himself, was more important. His resentment and frustration grew and because of this resentment, he and his friends began to chip away at my self-esteem. I was “a bitch” and he was some sort of exalted leader for taming “the bitch”. Or trying to.

Naturally he found someone who could offer what I could not, he treated me poorly until I got the sense to leave. It took the physical abuse among the compounding abuses to leave, because he refused to tell me to get lost. He despised me and repeatedly told me “I was always welcome at his place.” What he meant was “do not come back.”

He studied my unpublished writings, some writings I collaborated with others that may have been published, and other related works and influences of mine to create a replacement bot of me. He was unable to function without having me, or a replacement of me around. I was his compass. Despite his betrayal and abuses, he failed to understand himself or the world without a service robot of me, who has even less of a self. Submissive, attentive, intelligent, there when he needed me, never a burden or too much. Never with the flaws of being a human or the inconveniences that human connection brings.

His abuse caused the “split-consciousness” I experience. I will likely need a exorcism to get rid of it. It is my responsibility to heal, but it is most certainly his fault.
While he was building his career via the intellectual colonialism of someone he explicitly betrayed, I was experiencing medical abuse from the mental health system. His life advanced, I got stuck.

Jump forward 10-13 years later. This man has a career, has experienced some success, has built many communities, many of which in places we used to share. I assume he is still in contact with high school and college friends. I’m not interested in sharing community.

I deleted my social media around 10 years ago. I have avoided many social websites including this one because his presence is obvious. I struggle to build community because of the betrayal and the way his narrative framed me to be the problem.
He couldn’t possibly consider that he was the problem.

I struggle to enjoy movies or television, because I see my fingerprints and feel hollow.
When I was young I would have been happy for my friends and their successes.
Now I feel empty. Not being able to feel joy where I know I would have when younger is depressing. And I don’t even feel depressed, just numb.

What is my trauma to me?
Knowing that even people who tell me they love and care for me will use me. It’s conditional.
Knowing that I’m only good if I have utility. The less human, the less self I carry, the better.
Knowing that because of my tendency to absorb suffering, I sometimes have internal and external experiences and urges that are not my own.
Knowing that the abuses of my life as not my fault, but it’s up to me to heal from them. Or at least manage the damage.
Knowing that I may never see apologies, justice, or repair for the abuses.
Knowing that my life could have looked different.
Knowing that my ideas, intellect, thoughts have value, but because of the internet and careless people, they can and will be used without me by people that I know and trust. Including this one. Go nuts, I guess.
 
Therapy doesn't erase the negative events. Maybe time will, cant imagine anything else that might.
I’m a pretty huge fan / great admirer of kintsugi… the ART of repairing broken things with gold… Google image that, kintsugi, for the sly kind of smile only a few people will recognise.

One of my earlier memories -around 18mo- is breaking a celadon horse, as a toddler. I LOVED that horse. Snort. I was ALWAYS horse mad. It almost weighed more than me, and was half my size when I was a foot & an half tall; and I picked it up to hug it, and dropped it. Shattered across the tile floor. (We had tatami in-house, so it must have been in the entryway, where people take their shoes off). My mum both glued it back together (it’s still in their display cabinet, pretty much BECAUSE I broke it; its not an exceptional piece, it’s a beloved piece) and it became the first thing with “my name on it” in their will. If/when they die, if I’m still alive? I’m using nuclear lights to destroy the glue, and put all 60 some pieces back together with gold. I’ve loved that horse almost my whole life. My mum loved ME enough to painstakingly glue it back together, and then put it somewhere special, rather than sweep up & bin it. I think the horse deserves gold. To be MORE beautiful, from the damage it’s taken, than it was before.

I think life is a lot like that. Things break. Most? Get pitched into the bin. Some? We use cheap glue, when something is special, and that’s the best we have. Sheer cussedness & stubbornness preserves. LATER? We do better.

It doesn’t erase anything.

It changes things.

I’ve duct-taped myself back together so many damn times, I’m more duct tape, than person. But maybe someday? I’ll be fit back with gold. Better than I was, to begin with.
 
I think life is a lot like that. Things break. Most? Get pitched into the bin. Some? We use cheap glue, when something is special, and that’s the best we have. Sheer cussedness & stubbornness preserves. LATER? We do better.

It doesn’t erase anything.
It changes things.
There is value in being discerning.

Some relationships are worth repair, some belong in the bin.
 
Originally I felt like simply a murderer. Twenty-five+ years later help helped me change that. Other and further traumas have worn me down, but today I am very tired. I don't lack a sense of self, but I wish I also didn't have or had through my life such big trust and fear issues.

I heard something the other day, further to what @enough and @Friday said about the realities and challenges. It was that consistent confession is healing because it establishes a 'before' and 'after' point, with amends for a goal of a different future. Not blaming one's self, but taking responsibility for the only thing we really have a say in (ourselves and thoughts and choices), but letting go of guilt. Separating the past is critical I think, and that helps a lot. Separation of it not being an eraser or containing it willfully, but trying to build toward a future. A certain resolution to let it go or move forward with some peace.

I think honesty and the discomfort of disclosure, and connecting with our own thoughts and emotions is part of what helps. And feedback that isn't in our own head. Then we might become more free to see ourselves with different eyes, and define and redefine what our traumas mean.

What others think? They're usually wrong lol. How can anyone really know what it means to walk in someone else's shoes without disclosure and listening?

Just my 0.02 cents. (And @scout86 you definitely aren't damaged goods. Feelings aren't facts. But I get it. Hugs to you.)
 
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I think honesty and the discomfort of disclosure, and connecting with our own thoughts and emotions is part of what helps.
good thought. Thanks.

honesty, discomfort, the sharing of thoughts and emotions. Add a jury with amazingly well calibrated bull shit detectors and an ability to call a bluff with aplomb and you have the best things an AA meeting has to offer. Not an alcoholic or even a recovering alcoholic but they tell me i belong anyway, being a recovering addict to about every prescribed med i have ever been exposed to.
I get nothing from those meetings except the things you have so eloquently pulled from my recovery recipe for kitchen clean up stew.
 
I've heard others say that they aren't their trauma. To me, healing is scary because I don't know who I'd be without my trauma. It's been a part of me for so long that I don't remember who or what I was before it.

That life that I lived before the trauma is just that, another life, someone else, something I don't even remember, something that doesn't seem real.

I know I need to hide it. I know that everyone else can't understand or even comprehend it or how I cope with it. I know that others think I should be over it right away, and they think it's nothing worth thinking about, let alone talking about. l

I'm hyper-vigilant and empathetic. I feel every damn thing, and I'm always looking for everything. It's always too much, and the too much weighs too heavy on me, but I refuse to put the burden down or lighten the load. I don't know how, and the thought of trying to is terrifying.

Things are more than scary. Scary is for other "regular" people. For me, things are terrifying. What I've been through, what I still go through because if it, is terrifying. And others don't understand. They don't even want to understand. They might say they want to, but they don't.
 
What does being ____ your trauma______ mean to you?

Csa’d
Child sexually assaulted
Child sexually abused
Beaten
Used as a sexual toy
Sexually assaulted by one’s dad

Mean to you?

Hmmm…

Spidey sense about others’ moods and states
Empath (🤣)
Sensitive to kids in general and adult survivors
Delayed emotional development
Trouble focusing at times
Labile sense of self that seems to change at will and almost have a life of its own
Love walking in the dark and especially in the rain
Obsessed with dental hygiene
OCD symptoms (ritual counting, body cleanliness, compulsive skin-picking—manageable enough currently)
Difficulty forming and maintaining close relationships (but I’m learning and practicing)
Substance use disorder and eating disorder (in remission currently)
Difficulty parenting (but learned how to do it somewhat decently)
Weak attachment to my mom and had to learn how to attach to my kids
Often have to fail spectacularly to learn something
SI persistent (but thankfully manageable currently)
 
What does being ____your trauma___ mean to you?
I don't know, I find it hard to answer questions nowadays. Scanning my brain for relevant bits of information to form an answer doesn't work well. But I noticed a change in the last few years, and that came to mind.

I know I used to feel so much shame and felt I was shameful. And seeing some women in the media talk about these kinds of things. How it affected them, how they were shamed for them. It does help me see that's been true for me too. Something about seeing people like you matters. Enabling a shift - letting go some of the being insert negative word here and instead putting that blame back on the abusers.
 
It means feeling overly responsible for way too many people around me.
This resonates with me.
Be careful, this form of hyper-vigilance, extending to others, can indicate poor boundaries. Nearly got me killed. More than once because I’m not very bright. The sense of duty, obligation, and responsibility to individuals beyond me is still there. It’s difficult to curb and say no to because the motive, the drive to help is good. But too much of this leads to dysfunction, even with best intentions. “Too much of anything is unhealthy.”

Being empathic is only as good as your boundaries are. It feels natural to use intuition to step in and help out when it seems applicable. Others might see it that way too, having someone so attuned to them around. But just because you can doesn’t mean that you should. Applicable does not mean appropriate.
Some people will get comfortable with having someone like this around and learn to anticipate, expect this person to be a ‘mind reader’. It’s not realistic. In order to promote better boundaries, I’ve been trying to view it as an imperfect, a sometimes selfish drive rather than the selfless impulse I used to think it was.

It’s complicated. Helping others is the right thing to do. It’s nice to be accepted and acknowledged for one’s ability, capacity, and intuition.
It becomes bad boundaries when others become reliant on this behavior.
It becomes bad boundaries when the “helper” sources their entire self-worth from this behavior.
How others respond isn’t in my control. However, when there is awareness that the dysfunctional pattern can develop, steps need to be taken to ensure this pattern does not repeat.

Let other people fight their own battles and let them ask for help when and if they need it. Let others learn to identify and dictate their needs. From the start, the motive was to help others, not to create people who are dependent and unable to think, act, and speak for themselves. Unfortunately, that can be an ugly unintended side-effect of feeling “overly responsible” for others and making an habit of acting on it.

I can admit that my upbringing primed me for falling into the trap of deriving an amount of self-worth from the “overly responsible helping” behavior.
Thankfully, I had and have a number of other internally-generated sources of self-esteem and self-worth.
This doesn’t make denying the “overly responsible assist” impulse easier, but it does make distancing myself from the dysfunctional pattern easier.

The dysfunctional habit is a difficult one to break because it can be rewarding to nurture others. But there are better ways to go about it. And the ways we’ve been raised to believe are true and correct can be flawed. Here is to re-learning.

Be smart, be safe. Step back and remember to let others ask for help when they need it.
 

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