I feel angry.
Twenty years of abuse and neglect caused CPTSD in me. This makes me sad, not angry. The anger comes from the fact, that I fought them. I fought the abusers, their ideas, their power over me. I worked on myself since I had the first bitter taste of hope when I was 14, 15. When I got the idea that life could improve, the idea that the adults in my life were bad, not me.
Because I changed "care-givers" (what a joke) when I was 6 years old I could come to this perspective quicker then those who were stuck with one set of abusers. I knew things could change, they already got worse, so getting better must be an option. Another thing that helped me get perspective is, that so so many people in my life died. I understood life is short and precious in elementary school.
Things did not get better, they got worse. When my dearest wish came true, that my abuser die and set me free, things got really bad. The kind of bad where not moving forward is not an option.
Moving forward I did, even found love, and for years now I should be okay. For years now I left them all behind, expect in memory. I won the battle and lost the war.
It is so difficult for me to accept my diagnosis, because it feels like inviting them back in. I feel like being haunted through time and space, defeated after the fact. Was it all for naught? All those years I clinged to the idea that "One day this will be the past. I will look back on it and be proud." I do not feel proud. I feel miserable and defeated. I feel deep, deep shame about my problems, about past strength that now seems like dellusional daydreaming.
For now I lost my will to fight and work. I am wallowing in self pity and regret and it feels good. I feel, that if my past self would see me now, he would be dissapointed. I cant help it, not now. Idealism turned to bitterness.
For now fighting is over for me. There are storms I cannot weather, not naked in the dark. So I duck and take shelter best I can and wait for it to blow over. Light a candle, snuggle a blanket and wait for the sun to come out. I cannot fight right now, but I can wait.
I fought ferocious, now I want to sit and wait. Is that okay? It has to be, because it is the only road infront of me. I feel like crying would help, but tears do not come. So I sit and wait, gracefully.
In order to climb down from the cross, one maybe has to get on it in the first place.
Thanks for reading.
Twenty years of abuse and neglect caused CPTSD in me. This makes me sad, not angry. The anger comes from the fact, that I fought them. I fought the abusers, their ideas, their power over me. I worked on myself since I had the first bitter taste of hope when I was 14, 15. When I got the idea that life could improve, the idea that the adults in my life were bad, not me.
Because I changed "care-givers" (what a joke) when I was 6 years old I could come to this perspective quicker then those who were stuck with one set of abusers. I knew things could change, they already got worse, so getting better must be an option. Another thing that helped me get perspective is, that so so many people in my life died. I understood life is short and precious in elementary school.
Things did not get better, they got worse. When my dearest wish came true, that my abuser die and set me free, things got really bad. The kind of bad where not moving forward is not an option.
Moving forward I did, even found love, and for years now I should be okay. For years now I left them all behind, expect in memory. I won the battle and lost the war.
It is so difficult for me to accept my diagnosis, because it feels like inviting them back in. I feel like being haunted through time and space, defeated after the fact. Was it all for naught? All those years I clinged to the idea that "One day this will be the past. I will look back on it and be proud." I do not feel proud. I feel miserable and defeated. I feel deep, deep shame about my problems, about past strength that now seems like dellusional daydreaming.
For now I lost my will to fight and work. I am wallowing in self pity and regret and it feels good. I feel, that if my past self would see me now, he would be dissapointed. I cant help it, not now. Idealism turned to bitterness.
For now fighting is over for me. There are storms I cannot weather, not naked in the dark. So I duck and take shelter best I can and wait for it to blow over. Light a candle, snuggle a blanket and wait for the sun to come out. I cannot fight right now, but I can wait.
I fought ferocious, now I want to sit and wait. Is that okay? It has to be, because it is the only road infront of me. I feel like crying would help, but tears do not come. So I sit and wait, gracefully.
In order to climb down from the cross, one maybe has to get on it in the first place.
Thanks for reading.
