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Bit of a biggie for me. Major epihany, which rarely happens in C-PTSD, imho.

So... I was investigating ADHD for the youngest daughter here. The more I read, the more the lightbulbs switched on. After about an hour of investigating I was in no doubt that I had it, or rather have it. At that point everything fell into place.

Firstly, I've always been massivly creative but useless at pratical cognitive tasks. I can create anything, in any media, but give me maths and my mind just runs for the hills. Attention span has always been goldfish like.

I was bullied extensivly by my brother over these traits and school, and life after was an endless exercise in work arounds. But I did find workarounds and to a large extent, I thrived because the positive side of ADHD helped me. But the negative aspects have dogged me very badly.

When the trauma period began unfolding my concentration, which had been an issue I'd largely overcome by my 40s, collapsed. This made work a major struggle further adding to my looming breakdown. Reading about adhd I saw that you are 4 times more likely to develop PTSD if you have it. Well there's a thing.
I think my ADHD and the trauma joined hands and away we went.

But... adhd was never picked up by my counsellors, by family, by freinds, or most importantly by me. It wasnt picked up by me because I'd learned to bury the shame I'd had because of the bullying and blank it out. I just couldnt see it. I filed ADHD as something other people had and passed my own traits off as a failure of charecter, or a laziness.

Well, finally I think I have my answers.

A diagnosis will be a long way off because health service backlogs are horrendous, but I'll put my hat in the ring for now and let it wait. Treatment I have two minds about because I'm feeling such a huge relief about it I think I can function ok. It just gives me this permission to drop this toxic shame I'd had rammed into me, specifically by my brother but additionally through partners and work over the years.

But there's a positive spin  to all this too. I've still managed to do some pretty cool things DESPITE adhd and the abuse it enabled. I've certainly done way more than my abusive sibling even with adhd and C-ptsd, partly because of the benefits adhd brings, but also because the coping mechanisms I created gave me strengths to push forward into life with.

Since this all emerged my mindset has been utterly different. My background stress levels have noticably dropped and I've been a lot kinder to myself. I'd clearly been thrashing myself along trying to compensate for something I had no reason to feel bad about. I wasnt lazy, attention seeking or unproductive, I was just wired up differently, and I really did not deserve the abuse it triggered. I made mistakes by the bucket load because I didnt know why I was the way I was and I didn't know how to master it for myself and instead, was being bent out of shape trying to appease my detractors. Money was a real disaster for me. I was a financial abusers dream. I lost cash to partners throughout my life and couldnt hold on to money for the life of me. Aged 60 I have nothing behind me whatsoever which makes me sick just typing it.

So, as my head clears, the world suddenly feels very different. Life at home feels a lot easier suddenly now that my hypervigillance is on holiday. Sound sensitivity is waaaay down. I'm resting my head more, seemingly because I'm not trying frantically to push through my adhd and ptsd to achieve the impossible. I've certainly achieved amazing things in spite of the rolling banks of brain fog that I've endured but it really is time to take a break from the struggle. My job is enough for the moment, I don't need all the side hustles I created, and felt the need to add to.

C-PTSD and ADHD share a LOT of symptoms, with me I think they were crazed dance partners that spiralled each other upwards. I couldn't see the ADHD because the trauma was masking it, but now, finally, it's blindingly obvious. It answers so much.

So for now, no big plans, I'll ease into the new frame of mind and see where it goes. I've enough on to feel secure, successful even, so no new ventures. I need to enjoy home a lot more. I was feeling it was blocking me from achieving the impossible every day, which is mad frankly.

It's time to rest.

Another of these 'ere brain dumps.

So, progress in fits and starts, but it IS progress.

Just coming down from a relapse. Causes... Let me see.

1. Lack of personal space and time. Young un is back from Uni, has raging ADHD and is feeling the lack of her own age group. She's not happy, needs a job that can get her her own place, and there's a heap of attitude. Proper in-our-faces stuff. She's not a bad kid, but she's noisier than a drunk howler monkey and is a classic tiktok generation airhead. My poor head is just overwhelmed, and she's there all the time. There's just no downtime, no space to think, and my coping mechanisms have been obliterated. I'm irritable and resentful, which is not like me. The entitlement is ringing all my bells, and I'm right back there in my trauma period, losing battles I really need to win. Try as I might, the only way to deal with it is to just accept that my life is on hold til someone is silly enough to give her a job. It doesn't wash well. I gave up 13 years of my life to deal with other people's lack of logic, and I really don't want to do it again. There are signs she's getting closer to sorting herself out, so there's hope. But yeah... for recovery... awful.

2. Just turned 60. Didn't expect the emotions with that. The loss of the best years is the thing. What a wasted life. Sheesh. I think I need to feel it to forget it but the waste.... argghhh. Not just those 13 years but all the years before that, even the good ones. Indigestable for a while. All you can do is shrug and try and steer the ship by the bows. Just not worth the mood. But it will go when it goes. I sincerely want to move on, but it's a * of a thing to just write off a life or to pick over the house fire trying to pull keepsakes from the ashes. The good is glued to the bad. Good memories pop into your head like picnics with a backdrop of impending hurricanes. Desperately sad to think how I didn't have a clue what was coming. I knew both my partner's family and mine were toxic, but I never imagined the way they'd rip us apart and trash us. Recently I've been mulling the injustice thing, which I thought I'd put away. My sibling is still out there. There's no contact, but his influence on me appears in so many forms. I self-sabotage, keep a low profile, and avoid mutual connections, and his poisonous view of me lurks like sediment at the bottle of a fine wine. You know it's there, so your pour slower, you tense for the last sips. Do I have to wait for him to die before I'm free of that...? man alive. Tough. Enough already. So, yeah... sixty. I want to live. It's time.

3. Physiology. The body has its own agenda I'm afraid, and the production of cortisol and adrenalin is a law unto itself. The triggers are not always obvious, but they nonetheless cause floods of gunk that warp my judgement, make me hard to be around and scream at me to just pull the plug on my life and run. Talked to the doc about this, and my dissociative tendencies and the plan is to send me off to a specialist NHS PTSD unit, most likely for EMDR. I think it's a good idea. Let's see. It's certainly not going on its own, and I'm sick of trying to work through it. I CAN work through it, but it's a zombie walk if I'm honest. I don't want that anymore... has to go. Will let you know.

4. Relationships. It's very clear to me now that I chose to be in a relationship when maybe... maybe... I shouldn't have. If you were in a fire, you don't get a job in a blast furnace. It's a real trial at times. Some of it is me, some of it is the past, but some is classic stuff... boundaries, personal freedoms, personal space. Where is it C-PTSD and where is it real battles that need to be sorted, like they do in any relationship? I find this hard. Really hard. I had the four most important people in my life batter me into the ground, day by day, week by week, year after year and every fibre of me is on alert to stop that ever happening again.

People are flawed, they have good and bad days, and even the best of people will push the boundaries if the conditions are right (or wrong). But when are you simply making the same mistakes again? The abuse I suffered started small, little gates gently closing, then being locked behind me, my escape routes blocked with a gentle click and not a slamming door. Then it ramped up, the proverbial burning frog, unaware that the dial on the hob is heading towards destruction. So, now, I overreact. Even then, I feel like I'm letting things slip. I just can't see it objectively and my view of things, especially when my cortisol levels are coming over the sea wall, is utterly unreliable. But my partner has been amazing, and she shows total loyalty and in her own, admittedly firey, way, she's fully supportive. I ought to be OK.

But I'm distant. Locked in a defensive posture, I just don't trust ANYONE.

I think I was terribly naive before, I just didn't think people could, or would, sink to the self-serving indifference to the discomfort of others I eventually witnessed. I NEEDED that changed, I was a sitting duck for exploitation. What I couldn't believe then, or now, is that the numbers would be so against me. I didn't have one angel among the devils, I was outnumbered, outgunned and out of my depth. It changes you... as it should, but it's changed me too much, way too much. My view of people, compounded by politics and public life which I think is at an absolute low point, is at rock bottom. It needs work, because it isn't realistic. You can't have such a polarised viewpoint. Angels to devils. People are never perfect and rarely... rarely, are they utterly demonic. Our abusers are not super-villains, they are pathetic shambling excuses, trivial morons and clumsy selfish narcissists who's major crime is their idiocy. They are scared of the light. It's tragic if we become equally averse to the best in people.

But being in relationships while you try to learn relationships again is tough. Work experience in bomb disposal can be short-lived. A friend of mine says that are actually five horsemen of the apocalypse, war, famine, plague conquest and.... relationships. He has a point.

But you have to try.

So...

leaving C-PTSD behind is a series of loops and curves. Some lead you back, some go to fresh insights but so many just waste time.

Right now I know I'm ready to start living again but have become mired in all the wrong things. Colds, flu, more covid, Christmas, Christmas costs, a dismal wet winter and too much work, I feel close to a new way of life, but miles away at the same time.

I'm certain my C-PtSD is skewing my judgement. Have I made new mistakes? Should I cut and run... but then I realise I'm missing the kindness and warmth I get shown and I have to put down the parachute.

I'm loved, no question... but it feels so alien at times. I lost a happy life to forces outside my control, and in a relatively short space of time. Part of me is still there. The disorientation is immense. I want it to go but if I'm tired, distressed or ill, up it comes.

Too many of us here at home too. Lots of young person drama, too much. I can't distance it from real deep drama. I had so much of that, I see the threats to the future everywhere. It's very tough.

Lack of privacy, quiet, contemplation...

really tough.

Things should improve shortly, but yeah... for now.

Tough.

So... after a bit f turbulence, I've noticed a major uplift in my recovery.

I think there has to be a depressive stage as the C-PTSD lifts where you are effectivly mourning the life you would have had without the trauma. Looking back now it's very clear that life would have been very different and i think I've had a patch where the anger at my family and partner for the unecessary pain and trouble that they dragged me into left a real sense of loss.

Well finally that seems to be lifting. It may be in part down to my medication, but I do also think that I've passed the period of resignation and loss and am able to finally face forward into the rest of my life, warts and all.

Time makes a huge difference, of course, but its much more about squaring things away and letting go of a need for vindication. I know that will never happen, and whilst I've understood that for a while, I don't think I'd made my peace with it until now. People are fading from view, and I'm ready to let them go, not because I've failed in anyway, but because I owe it to my present to populate my life with new actors and new landscapes.

Also, the sheer effort I put into getting out of trouble financially and materially is showing fruit. Lockdown definitly delayed this and contributed to that awful feeling of being becalmed while the fresh water ran out, but now the sails are strating to fill with the breeze my flapping wings have made over the last 5 years.

This has meant I can ease off and do a bit of self-care finally. Surviving c-ptsd is an epic drain of health and energy and frankly, I'm amazed things are not worse bodily. I was dog tired. But now I have a wave of little windfalls coming in and uplifting shoots of green in the ash field.

Go me.

C-PTSD does go, truly it does. If you play it right there will be rewards too. Keep your eyes on the prize.

Thought I'd take a rare chance to sit quietly and write down some thoughts. Good to do once in a while.

A lot better than of late as I settle a few issues down.

My medication is undeniably helping though I had to drop the dose by half once they settled in as the fatigue was a bit counter-productive. They make me very prone to negative results with alcohol, however, which is a mixed blessing. Now it just needs 3 small beers, and the next day I'm all over the place with fatigue and headaches. Getting used to zero alcohol is going to be a challenge; we shall see.

I seem to be reconciling the loss of old friends as a by-product to my trauma and aftermath. Hey, ho... what can you do? I think I'm accepting this finally. It's tragic, but it happened, and no amount of hand ringing by me can make it any different. I have also come to realise the love I have now from people, something I've been a bit blind to if I'm honest. My workmates are solid friends, even more so given that they all know the story. Yes there have been a few moments where I tested that for them, but they've stood by me as I've recovered and are still there.. more than I can say for my older friends who have largely dropped me.

I'm also slipping more into accepting my new relationships. There have been times, many times, when I've wanted to run. It felt alien, an intrusion, like wearing someone else's clothes. It still does a bit. But less so. Mourning a lost life while being in a new one and not showing it has been a tall order, and I'm really surprised that my partner has kept with me. It made me unloving, distant and angry, feeling misunderstood and unable to give anyone what they needed from me. I felt savagely betrayed, unready for trust and commitment.

Key to getting past this has been to let the past go, and only as that has crept in have I been able to get anything from the present.

Letting the past go is so easily said, but so very hard. The past, for better of worse, is all we have, and it takes an unrealistically perfect present to distract from both the best and the worst of what came before. I guess I had to accept how I was obstructing the present, pushing too hard to recreate conditions that could never be reformed in my new life. Loss of the good is hard in C-PTSD. Those rubies in the dust torture you, hinting endlessly at what-ifs that are long past making real.

The dust... well I'm getting that squared away. My main protagonist, the one responsible for 80% of the trauma I went through is still alive. Surprising, really given his ripeness for a heart attack. Fading now is my desperation for him to finally go, to feel what it is like without his malign presence out there, wishing me ill. He's just one man, lost in the crowds, a menace to no one but himself, strangled by his own narcissistic hands. So much narcissistic abuse is done without the monster being there at all, as the poor victim self-sabotages or demonstrates with the attacker In their own head. Enough of that.

Somehow in all that has happened, I kept up employment, dod better than before even, keeping my own income for once and reaping rewards from the panicked driver to overcome my swan dive into trauma. But it's starting to feel a bit much now. Nothing felt like it was enough, somehow, and yet I've pulled a colony of rabbits out of this tired old hat. It's time to ease off. This I'm finding very hard. It feels crazy to talk of taking my foot off the accelerator, but if I don't then I'm gonna crash and burn. I'm hearing the advice there finally.

You can beat C-PTSD. But you have to cut those people away now, for good or you will be just postponing the job til later. It hurts, but your new life can't ever happen while the old life plays out. What is wrong is wrong, and no one should have to live with any form of abuse, especially that which deforms who you were meant to be.

Be free.

So, here I am. I've sorted 99% of the practicalities that needed fixing after my life exploded and yet I'm STILL fighting this thing.

Now it's all about relationships. I am just not coping with being in a relationship at all well. I just feel overwhelmed, constantly challenged and called-out, unable to think clearly if there's anyone within 20 feet of me.

I just can't separate my traumatic reactions from what I need to defend myself from genuinely. I swing from one to the other, trying frantically to keep a lid on my emotions, mangling my responses and either over or under-reacting to every nuanced up and down of domestic life.I just don't know.

A huge issue is my creative life. It was always such a safety valve, but I've actually done really well with it and given time I could easily scale up my successes. Instead I'm trapped in a small house overwhelmed by small talk and bickering teens. If I'm not there, I'm stuck on the hamster wheel at work. Headphones on, backpeddling through the day while my mind is tearing at the leash.

In theory... THEORY... it's due to change. In Jan I go part-time, I'm finally solvent, and beyond that I'm set to clear work altogether in a few years. I could do it earlier, my partner wants me to, but I'm wracked with doubts. I can't be creative around them all. I need proper peace and quiet to work, and I can't really talk about the C-PTSD anymore. I can't share about my ex, I can't share about how much I loved her before my family pushed her away from me and she drank herself to death. I can't talk about my sense of betrayal, shame and bewilderment. I need to be in the now.

The thing is, that even if you do square away the story, and you do separate yourself from the blame game and set out for your future, C-PTSD isn't just about that, it's about physical damage just as much if not more than the purely psychological. My physiology is just not OK. I get episodes where I'm all over the place. I get fantastically tired, my focus collapses and I have to drag myself through the day, then stay controlled in the evenings. There's just no end to it. I'm desperate to get back to my old life in some small measure. I can't have the life before it all went so wrong, but surely I can at least get back my creativity.

But there have been patches where it HAS gone. I've felt completely clear of it for months at a go, and then wham, it's back again. But I know it can go if the conditions are right. The problem is that the 2020s are all about the conditions not being right. There's just no plateau phase to anything.  Everything just ends up with me stuck in place, doing nothing but tread an increasingly muddy water.

Right now my mind is screaming to be alone, but I know that it would probably be fatal. I just want some clear roads for a while. I feel like I'm back to hiding my feelings, losing control of my own time and life and being overwhelmed by the needs and demands of others. I'm feeling I got into a relationship when I wasn't thinking properly, and I didn't get the time I needed to find myself before it was tsunami'd back into old patterns of people pleasing and self-neglect.

I'm exhausted.

Not been on here in an age, simply no personal space in life these days.

Progress is still ongoing, tho with C-PTSD still lurking as per usual.

My big thing now has been dealing with successive waves of depression rather than the panics of old. I think this is a natural part of the recovery, you put out the house fire, but the smoke and water damage leave you with a ton of work. Realising how little of my old life I could bring with me is a brutal realism, it seems like lockdown emphasised the separation hugely, and I'm left with little more than 5% of my old friends. Mostly they have just drifted out of range, but many have been "got at" or have taken sides, and there's nothing much I can do about that now. It's a profound loss I feel constantly. I NEEDED these people.

I also let people go I shouldn't have. I went from needing desperately to talk to people to being very wary of it. I grew tired of that look in the eyes, the disconnect that came from trying to explain things that were so outrageous and unfair that you simply made yourself look useless and guilty of exaggeration, even though you weren't even close to doing them justice. So I stopped.

Recently I went onto a proper anti-depressant for the first time since 2015 and this time it did its job. But unless I live like a monk, it bites back, and during a very busy period of work, it's been struggling to hold back the doubts. I've been exhausted, and if I so much as glance at red wine, I'm on the floor. Life plans are on hold for now; my creative projects, always such a pressure valve, are gathering dust. It's tough. It's demoralising. When will it ever just stop?

On the plus side, I'm looking at gaining a part-time role, and that will really lift the pressure. Time to think, hopefully.

Lockdown was tough, grinding relationship engagement when I craved isolation, silence, and thought. But this would have been suicidal, I think, the relationship is good for me. My partner is loyal, fiercely so, pushing for my happiness and stability... realistic. But this illness craves that perpetual licking of wounds, the sort of introversion that kills relationships stone dead. I've held it off, talked myself down a million times, but I'm tired. I've lost the person I liked being, and I just can't find the peace I desperately need to track him down. The real me is like some WW2 Japanese soldier in the jungle, unaware the war is over, still fighting in rags three decades after everyone else went home.

From the outside, it looks like wallowing, living in the past, not wanting to heal, but it really isn't. Your brain is injured, your trust has gone... you simply can't think straight. Sometimes I feel I've totally got it licked, then wham, I'm back in the harness, pulling thirty tons of rock up a hill with a face like under-cooked ham.

I band I loved, still do... had a song which I think sums it up.

I am angry, I am ill and I'm as ugly as sin
My irritability keeps me alive and kicking
I know the meaning of life, it doesn't help me a bit
I know beauty and I know a good thing when I see it
This is a song from under the floorboards
This is a song from where the wall is cracked
My force of habit, I am an insect
I have to confess I'm proud as * of that fact
I know the highest and the best
I accord them all due respect
But the brightest jewel inside of me
Glows with pleasure at my own stupidity
This is a song from under the floorboards
This is a song from where the wall is cracked
My force of habit, I am an insect
I have to confess I'm proud as * of that fact
Used to make phantoms I could later chase
Images of all that could be desired
Then I got tired of counting all of these blessings
And then I just got tired
This is a song from under the floorboards
This is a song from where the wall is cracked
My force of habit, I am an insect
I have to confess I'm proud as * of that fact
This is a song from under the floorboards
This is a song from where the wall is cracked
My force of habit, I am an insect
I have to confess I'm proud as * of that fact

Then I just got tired. That's exactly where I am. The big thing now is deciding to sacrifice income for personal time. My partner wants me to do it, but I'm wary. Financial abuse was a huge part of my trauma, having my personal security blackmailed into oblivion by a manipulative alcoholic trapped between conflicting financial obligations as my income collapsed. Deep down, I feel that anything but acceleration and effort in work and income will end in disaster. It's very deep. Trusting what my partner is saying is a huge ask. But she's right, I will die at my desk if I don't ease off.

Just so emotionally tired. It's been a long, long road.

This coming up on BBC

https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-61350174

So, a first social after lockdown with my work people.

All pretty light and cordial... but I made the mistake of forgetting to keep my mouth shut about my past and told too much to one of my colleagues about my not very pretty past. Bad move. She made excuses and bolted. Day after and I'm feeling lousy.

I think it's time I stopped sharing any of this, people just can't hamdle it. And do I really need to now anyway?

I've often been driven desperatly to share. I think because the key people in my life, my brother, mother, partner and business partner all caused my breakdown, there was no solid support available, so I leant hard on strangers, freinds and health professionals. Often this would backfire in some way leaving me feeling even more isolated.

It's a good reminder.

So...

such a mixed view of where I am now.

One thing that stands out at the moment is that 2 years of lockdown forcing me to be over-exposed to relationship interaction has been tough, and frankly not what you'd prescribe to anyone with C-PTSD if you had any sense. That being said, I have gone up and down in that time, sometimes benefitting from being forced into confronting what can feel like a phobia and on other occasions swamped by the flight or fight responses from my bruised Limbic system. Really exhausting.

Finally tho, I am letting go of the trauma that started all this. I've run the events a million times and really, truly, I did all I could to stay rational and in control in the face of forces far too numerous for one person to take. Yes, I did stuff wrong too, but I didn't do anything wrong I wasn't forced into doing under the pressures of utterly unreasonable behaviour over a very drawn out period. I wasn't equipped to get situations and decisions right 100% of the time, and you know what? So what?

But whatever I may have done, nothing... Nothing is as wrong as what I was put through.

But these things don't matter now. Two of my protagonists are dead, one is distant and contained and the other, the real narcicistic monster, is a bust flush, useless without hostages and probably now as physically ill as he is mentally. He still makes guest appearances in dreams leading to me thrashing about like a lizzard in a tin, but in real terms, finally, he can't touch me. He did wreck my life tho, and occasionally, my gentle soul finds itself baying for retribution. But that kind of closure can't happen. It's better I let him drive himself into the ditch he's spent 60 years making and burn his black heart out without my help.

I'm still deeply hurt by the lack of support from freinds. I'm not sure I'll ever trust anyone again really. When people you've gone the miles for won't so much as pick a phone up when you are so close to the edge you can see clouds below you it leaves the mother of all bad tastes in the mouth.

I now have a quite small circle, people who understand what happened and believe in me when I need that, and empathise when I start to flag. People like that are rare.

The real challenge for me now is easing myself into the new life I've made, sometimes made without noticing. Largely, the pronounced symptoms of C-PTSD have gone, leaving sharp deppressions that come and go in three-day cycles. I'm working them through now. I think the restrictions of lockdown meant my life wasn't full when I really needed it to be expanding, that created stagnation, and I think stagnation is kryptonite for me. That said, the frantic push to rebuild has exhausted me and frankly, I've done enough. I've paid out tens of thousands in debt repayments, worked fantastically hard but the strain of thinking my way out of trouble has to end now. It's hard to stop. I'm like a rescued sailor who can't stop swimming even after they put him in a bunk, the terror of going downhill in isolation with nothing but condescension from your peers will stay with me forever.

But it IS over. I just can't make my deep mind understand that. I'm still looking for threats.

It's a long, long road.

Very much a male-biased topic this, tho many symptoms are universal...

Nice guy syndrome... anyone else feel this has been a factor?

https://mindandpractice.com/nice-guys-a-background-common-traits-the-psychology/

I definitely swung into these areas once the pressure mounted.

Anyone else?

Since the new issue popped up there's been a bit of a seismic shift for me.

I think because it's so off the wall, (sorry, can't share as per usual), it's forced me to take action in a more dynamic way to push down the old habits.

Firstly, because my stress hormones were going bezerk, I went to the doc and after dodging the anti-depressant route, we agreed I'd increase my beta-blocker dose and take them on a set daily pattern. This has worked wonders frankly. My cortisol levels (I'm guessing that's what it is) dropped dramatically to the point where I'm clearer-headed than I have been for at least three years. Without that constant hormonal alarm bell ringing in my brain, I'm able to get back on the horse very quickly and start looking around me to see where I've washed up with an improved clarity.

Part of that has been to flatten down the story and start dropping some of the luggage and oddly, with that there is a kind of rejection of my old self. This is new, and I'm not totally sure I get it yet, but I've started to feel kind of angry with my old self for allowing things to get so bad without making any attempt to protect myself. This doesn't mean I'm beating on myself, this is more an objective assessment of how it panned out and my role in that.

To change we have to be able to see ourselves clearly, and to want to move away from one state of mind into another. If there wasn't a problem then why would you change? Yes the problem is that other people had a field day with your old pliable, lovable self, and that old self isnt an idiot, but that old self was wide open for abuse. That's how it feels suddenly. The weakened me isn't where I am now, so looking back at the damaged self gives me new emotions I can only have by being further down the road to recovery.

Life isn't repeating itself right now, but it is rhyming very loudly. It's as if I'm being given a second opportunity to see how human interactions lead to the dark places, and how victims and abusers take well trodden paths to exploit the kinder, gentler people around them.

To be someone new, you have to let many things go. To change you have to let some parts of yourself go, parts that seemed right and just once, but which don't fit the world we actually live in. We can't be innocents anymore, we can't advertise our weaknesses to the monsters in the forest if we wish to be happy. I was simply too kind, too accomodating and I gave too many people the benefit of the doubt.

Now it's a more measured view of reality, and of the benefits and flaws in a world at large. There are monsters, and there are songbirds. Both are rare, but the majority are in the muddy middle. You build your patch and you insulate against extremes. That's the only logical way to live.

I've obviously crossed a big line on this, it's a lot to digest.

Will let you know.

So... something new happened that is so off the wall, so strange and terrible that it's almost beyond reaction... but.... I can't share it, because it's in the news.

Just unreal.

It's an odd thing how sometimes tho, something new and awful removes some old and awful. It does that at least.

Determined not to let this push me over the edge tho, in fact... this has to be a line in the sand regarding fate and its dark sense of humour.

Nope, not gonna happen. I've done enough, thanks.

Interesting phase.

After a sharp relapse I've noticed, as I have before, that on the other side of these dips I tend to have made noticeable gains. It's like you are working your way through a series of cells, a bit like a honeycomb, and every once in a while you have to backtrack to secure one you thought you'd dealt with but which came back to life.

Metaphor on my mind is the Pacific in ww2 where you had this island hopping process. Some islands you assault and take, others you bypass in favour of more important or larger islands. Eventually, you take them all, but some have the odd enemy lurking in the jungles, sometimes for 20 years. The bigger islands are more costly to take of course, just as your issues will focus on the main events and the bigger traumas, but don't underestimate the way that down the line, the bypassed islands will need to be taken.

I've noticed a lot more 'living in the now' going on suddenly. Things that bothered me are now lessening and my cortisol levels must be dropping because my hyper-vigilance is falling away. Sound sensitivity is dropping which is good and I've not needed any emergency meds to lower social panic.

If I were to guess why I'm winning, it would have to be about accepting where I've ended up as being OK, good even, and also dropping the hurt and bewilderment at the way friends let me down so badly when things were at their worst. The judgement, often so badly informed and partisan hurt me hugely, it was not only so far from accurate as to be absurd, it was frequently deriving entertainment from what became a very real tragedy. I think I've been holding on for closure over this, waiting for some justice and realism that simply will not happen. Accepting that and letting people go for my own peace of mind has been hard, but I am palpably better in myself when I do.

But these things come and they go. The C-PTSD mind needs constant retraining, like brushing wayward hair, one stroke of the brush is not enough. When it comes back, I have to go back to my mantras and remind myself of the big lessons I have learned over these last 5 years.

People make their own choices.
It is normal to protect yourself.
You are not obliged to display loyalty without conditions.
This is your life.
There are rules in life, and those that play against them can and should be avoided.
C-PTSD is an injury, not an illness.
A small but dangerous element of humanity is beyond the pail.
Families are not a trap, if you have a bad one, you can, and should... leave.
Living for others will not end well.
Make boundaries... and keep them.
etc etc

Next year is set to be an important one. Restore, reclaim... rebuild.

So...

Well, I'm struggling to be honest. The dreary smudge at the end of lockdown, the political pantomimes and the economic sludge collide merrily with the coming of winter and my mood has fallen off the table. Kept at bay a bit with meds but it's time to fight back.

Went to the docs and talked it through, initially without much joy, but then later with some real progress. Maybe I had it wrong, I do have a tendency to assume a negative response to me, but I had a call back that showed they completely understood what was happening and we're giving it some proper thought.

So... EMDR.

Will be in Jan/Feb most likely. I don't care what it costs, it needs doing. I'm just fighting too many negatives both internal and external and I can feel my emotional handbrake failing. Just knowing it's on the way is making a huge difference.

20 months of lockdown, I mean come on... it's a lot for us all. And it's not just the restrictions, but the lack of distraction, the momentum sapping niggles, the downbeat mood of those around us. It would be a trial for anyone, it has been, but with C-PTSD it's a real mind melter.

I've been really fighting bad temper and depression, struggling to relate to my partner and anything but my battle with C-PTSD and the processing of the past. But I've not been winning. The aim is to beat the thing, not churn it like butter for the rest of my life. It has to go. I think it's the sheer frustration of swatting it away all the time in company. At home, it's constant interaction and I just can't spend the time I need pointing my fire hose at the smouldering embers. You have to keep jumping on moods to keep them from escalating, and yes... you can do it, but it takes so much out of you and is a huge drain on your relationships.

It's exhausting.

Everything I'm seeing about EMDR, despite its strange method, seems to be glowing. Assault victims, abuse survivors, it really does seem to rewire the brain. Whether it can affect more varied trauma types is the question. In my case the trauma, though at its worse as an adult, had childhood origins, but there are few major moments, more a long drawn out series of slow-motion declines under the oppression and madness of others.

Can EMDR budge that? We shall see.

stage after stage after stage... that's the thing with C-PTSD. Oh well, you run with it, only way.

The last few months have been a bit of a roller coaster, the point between lockdown and normality... whatever that is. It's really perfect for creating aggravation and uncertainty, I find - that mix of on and off. You can do more, for sure, but you run into a mass of inconvenience and inefficiency, and the momentum you crave to make life feel back on track just seems to suffocate under a wave of niggles and restraint.

Restraint is the thing. I feel like I'm held in this constant state of tension, my senses held in place... waiting for life.

One interesting observation that throws a lot of light on C-PTSD.

I decided to replace my phone. I am really not interested in tech, but my iPhone needed swapping out for something with a better camera for art and the likes, so I went and grabbed an android. That led to me discovering my ancient email address was about to expire. Mayhem. I had to go through decades of web connections, personal contacts and passwords. It made me VERY unhappy. It dredged up so much feeling, the abandonment, the attacks, the time wasted, the rotten freelance clients, everything.

Finally, after about a month of this process, I suddenly realised what a good metaphor the whole exercise had been for recovery. Yes it was nasty while it lasted, but ultimately I'd started with chaos, but finally, I'd got to a stage where I had a fully functioning phone as good as the one I'd started with. Now, after settling down, I realise it's better. BETTER.

That's the point really. My life is like a phone. It seemed stable and happy, familiar, but once changed was forced it went through the same period of chaos and unfamiliarity. Gradually I've loaded the new apps, learnt the operating structure and now I can live in a rational, normal way again. But while you have this effectively dead new device stage it's really stressful, your life has been bricked, rendered useless by change and you can't see how you'll ever be able to do even the most basic of things you used to.

Recovery is about accepting the trauma of recovery, in addition to the trauma itself. I really feel that I had two traumas, one the collapse of my life and the terrible behaviour of my nearest and dearest, and then the horror of C-PTSD itself, a very frighteneing and bewildering event. That's the phone metaphor right there. The phone breaks, then you have the chaos of learning a new one. You can't just swap the sim card of your life and get started again, like I thought I would because the sim is ruined, cracked in half by C-PTSD. It's like a flood.. yes you nearly drowned... but after the flood you face a wrecked house, destroyed possessions.

So how does this help?

Well, I think now that I am well progressed enough with recovery to see the recovery as inevitable. Like my phone, finally, it just feels like life again, just like my phone now feels like a phone again, and I don't have to think about it and can just... live. Accepting this and switching off the endless struggling and thinking is now where I am. It's a challenge because it is all about habit really. I'm used to the panic, hooked on the cortisol, ever ready for trouble.

But in all honesty, I've never had stability like this.

One day, like the new phone, the new life has to stop being new. You have to accept you've arrived at a destination and are no longer fighting to get somewhere. It may not be perfect, it may not be ideal, but it's most definitely not the terrible place you came from. I'm now ready to start overriding the habits of C-PTSD and to see them for what they are... habits. The past will not repeat itself, though it will keep on rhyming forever. But, if you have taken the vital step of cutting the cord to the sources of the abuse, condescension and pain, you WILL be on your way to a proper life. Resetting that life is not immediate, like the new phone, it will take time to learn all settings, load the contacts and make it yours, but it WILL happen.

The sooner you start that process, the sooner it will end.

Hi all,

I've been watching myself closely recently , (when do I not?) as I start to come out of CPTSD and have been trying to think it through in ways I can articulate and pass on.

It's been tough because this phase seems so fast and quickly changing, moving from one state to another at a much higher rate than it did when things were more chronic. What's noticeable is that my self-perception is more constructively critical, with my view of the events that led me here suddenly less subjective, more objective and free of the wild sting of hurt and grievance. A lot of self-doubt has gone, as has the feeling of having let myself down and been weak. The 'why me?' thing is still occasionally there, but the more distance you put between yourself and the crisis years, the better you can sort through the dust and find the rubies they didn't get to.

The best metaphor I can give you to describe the later stages of recovery is this:

Life, if it goes the way it should, is like a railway line. It travels pretty much from A to B, negotiating natural obstacle through dynamite blasted tunnels and over bridges that span the typical life dips without too much trouble. But C-PTSd and the incidents that cause it throw you off the train and on to the old road that went from A to B via Z J K D and all points in between. The old road doesnt have the tunnels and the bridges, it has to clamber up hillsides and wind down switchbacks and meander along river beds. Driving is hard work.

Gradually though, the bad countryside with all it's hills and forests, rivers and marshes starts to gve way to rolling gentle hills and the train heads towards the coast, and at that point the road rejoins the rail line. And that's where the metaphor kicks in really, because you start to see the train from the car, and the car from the train. You begin to see normality getting nearer - at times being where you should have been all along...  watching the car flip back and forth alongside the carriage as the obstacles lessen. Or, you are still in the car, mildly frustrated as you get close to the direct path of the train, only to be forced away by yet another hill or river.

That's what it all feels like to me. Sometimes I'm on the train, sometimes I'm in the car.

Which makes me think about the whole process really. Is it realistic that anyone really ends up on the train? Life never has it's bad moments blasted out of the way by dynamite before you even get there. And people who have all the privilege and help that can be imagined can fall off the train or are pushed, so one way or another the railway metaphor makes you see that the idea of a direct route through life is never anything more than the point of a compass, suggesting where we should be headed, but never able to remove the obstacles we will encounter.

The road, always points the same way, but it is by necessity, winding and tough. Where you fall off the train matters, because you can drop in a desert, lush pastures or a war zone. How you fall or how you are pushed matters too, of course, but what matters far more is your realism about that fleeting view you get of the train as you start to fight your way back.

At this stage, I am tantalisingly close to the train at times. I've rebuilt virtually everything that constitutes a life, but the pain and hurt still lurks. Realistically, I will never get closure - that's impossible. What I CAN do, is live now, in the moment, as much as possible. When I do that, I'm in the train, watching the car as it follows the same river valley. When I don't, I'm back in the car chasing the train.

But wow, what a difference. Once I was deep in the valley, hood up with a dead engine, and all I could see of the train was a plume of distant steam rising above distant hills. (Metaphor overload, but you get the idea)

Later stage recovery is like that... on the train, in the car, on the train, in the car, on the train, in the car, on the train, in the car, rinse and repeat. Sometimes it feels like it will never end, but it's amazing to be so close that you can see yourself looking back at you from the carriage window.

OK, that's enough metaphor for today.

I need tea.

Fair winds people!

Going to keep posting these updates because I think there is so little out there on the final recovery process I'd best do a bit myself.

I am undoubtably well advanced in recovery now. I can look back at even 6 months ago and see a huge gain, despite occasional sharp dips. Each dip seems to make me stronger so I can only assume that you have to conduct mopping up operations, identifying and then engaging each obstruction to your future as you go. These can be very tough tho. The in-out nature of recovery is in some ways worse than the full on stage because you taste freedom and have to then go back in the cage with the animals.  Steve McQueen in the GReat Escape springs to mind.

But each rebound, once I've identified causes and triggers and rationlised my way out of the ditch, makes me stronger. Metaphors abound. Burning off the stubble, sailing towards the splashes (naval warfare) what doesn't kill you makes you stronger etc etc. All work I think. It's like making something in wood, you sand it smooth, then run your hand over it for abrasions and often, you pick up a splinter.

Most of these splinters have been relational, seeing as it's C-PTSD. I've felt both nurtured and threatened by my partner, mourning my old life before the asteroid hit or waiting to feel safe enough to get back to my old activities. I've had huge issues feeling safe enough to turn my back and lose myself in things. I think, KNOW, this was because trying to appease 4 very separate horsemen of my personal apocalypse meant that I'd put one fire out, turn to address another or to let off steam and when I'd turn back, it would be on fire, rinse and repeat. It conditions you to feel that rest will be punished, so you don't... EVER. The way that relational abuse homes in on the scapegoat's repair time is insidious. "it's ok for you," "I wish I had time for walking/fishing/sleeping/to be sick". The same people did what they wanted 24/7 but I was so far gone trying to keep things balanced I just didn't stop to point it out, I just played for time I couldn't afford and burned myself out.

Learning that you have the right... THE RIGHT.. to react to your personal needs and to maintain your energy is pivotal in recovery. Not just energy. Affections, interests, beliefs, hope, dreams... anything that makes you human. They are not up for debate, they are yours to embrace and secure. But it's taken so much time and energy to pull all these things apart and as time advances I'm seeing it all a lot clearer.

The people who hurt me so grievously were fantastically flawed. Two are dead, one through nature, the other through stubbornness. The other two are so mad as to defy classification and all were emotionally incompetent. All saw my failing confidence and energy as a chance to build their own mismanaged attitudes and my ill health barely impacted upon them. That's the truth. It wasn't me.

Saying it wasn't me isn't new, but I feel it deep now. I know it in my knower.

I also know that any mistakes or misjudgemnts I made were human. I was forced into scenarios that no one should have to endure and for a long, long time. Who is equipped for that? Yes, I made mistakes, and yes, they were probably a gift to my protagonists, but hey. And these mistakes were not even that big a deal, I left my alcoholic ex after building a relationship with a female friend in the USA, I burned through my savings laying on my back looking at the ceiling in a flat I couldn't afford as the PTSD raged, I hung on far too long with work that seemed to cost me more than I made... I think that's about it actually. It all feels worse than it is because the people I was dealing with were so keen to exploit mistakes that I lived in terror of dropping the ball in front of them. Two of them were borderline stalking in the way they monitored my online presence so I just went silent, further cutting me off when I should have been expanding outwards.

I see all this now and I've analysed it to death. The thing is that you recover when you accept. You recover when you humanise your own responses and you recover when you admit that the world around you is not very pretty. Human nature is often very dark. For all our optimistic media and feel good memes, people are ruthless, negligent, lazy and malicious. It all hurts a lot more when you expect more. Lowering your expectations is crucial. It isn't a defeat, but no one ever one a war underestimating an enemy. Relationships you don't choose are often a war. Relationships you do choose can become wars. It doesn't rule out happiness and love, but it does lead you to make knew relationships containing balance.

It isn't right for one person to sacrifice themselves for anyone, even children. Too much sacrifice encouraged more. Narcscism will suck dry all the goodwill it is offered, psychosis will play with a kind heart until there is nothing left, negligence will watch an innocent fade from view without a second thought. These people do exist, and they always will. What counts is how YOU live for yourself. You are none of the above, you know that, but you have to lose the bewilderment and hurt and realise that those emotions are not air raid sirens that will attract justice or change. In 90% of cases, the abusers in our stories will slip through the net, or bounce the barricade. We can't rest our future happiness on closure, because it almost certainly can't happen. Much of the abuse we suffer isn't criminal (yet) and much of it is so nuanced, targetted and prolonged that really only the victim can see it. That doesn't make it any less potent, most KGB interogators would feel very familiar with the emotional tactics we have experienced, from false hopes of deliverence to sleep deprivation and never ending negative reinforcement.

No wonder its so hard to square away, no wonder it's impossible to explain to others and no wonder they get away with it.

So if there is no closure what do you do?

Well you don't care. Simple enough but impossible eh? Well yes and no. The thing is you have to ask why you DO care and identify what has set up that dialogue. Traditions, duty, shame, guilt... they are glue that keep you in place. Yes, a shared child or a financial bond can seem impossible to escape and often are, but the damage isn't done by literal connections, it's mostly done in YOUR head. You do the worst things for them. Making that decision to switch that off and rise above it is massive. If that person has literally gone , then it's a huge advantage, but it isn't impossible otherwise. You can at least diminish the self abuse by asking why it is there in the first place.

Who's voice is speaking your doubts? Who's voice is screaming your inferiority?

It made a huge difference to me, and still does. I found Stoicism vital in this, especially Derren Brown's book "happy". His section on hurt and anger is probably the single most important thing I've read on emotional pain.

Finally I just want to say that going no contact is hugely important. Abusive people will never change, how can they? Why would they? Narcissists and psychotics have no reverse gear, no reflection, no guilt. They will pour all the pain you will take upon you no matter how small a threat you make yourself. You have to go. It will never end.

But yeah, huge changes. I think less, relax more and my obsessional responses are fading. It's not a return to anything, it is all new. I'm ending a period of shock and mourning and planning a new life. I think I got off very lightly. By rights I shouldn't be here. How I didn't lose every wheel and overturn I can't say, but here I am.

I know it can seem impossibly dark, but hang on in there and have faith in yourself. Be good to yourself and take action to get out of harm's way and to safety.

Wow, this is tough.

I don't think I really felt it this bad til now. The weather has postponed the lifting of some basic effects for a month now, horrendous weather for May. I think I've been just hanging on by my fingernails waiting for it to lift so I can begin to live again. But no, this.

In some ways I've really made progress and I think many symptoms have gone in lockdown as I've been forced to avoid avoidance tactics, but now it's different.

I've worked so hard to rebuild my life and now I can feel those gains starting to drift backwards, Hugely frustrating.

I can count my blessings, put myself in the same boat as others and all the other tricks and dodges but they just don't work anymore somehow. It's utter exhaustion. I can't think, concentrate, lose myself or laugh. Totally flat.

Beginning to worry about myself.

Still weathering sharp depressions. Nothing was lifting my mood this week and that includes getting bestseller status on Amazon UK.

I feel stalled, overwhelmed by the dreary weather, the differences between myself and my partner and the relentless negativity of lockdown. I'm combating this mainly by a huge drop in expectations and beta-blockers. Noise levels in the house have been really high, hitting me bang on my nerves. Will calm down soon as youngest goes back to Uni.

A happy and productive routine seems a long way off.

I am consciously waiting this out to see what the positives arriving will do to my mood, the relationship and the people around me. On paper, so much is right in my life, but my mood regulation is paper-thin. It is extremely rare for me to be genuinely distracted by anything. It makes me want to run, be alone. I won't, but I do feel close to those kinds of lines.

Was watching a vid on trauma and avoidance and it seems clear to me that my trauma is focused on drawn-out humiliation, disempowerment and constant negatives. These are triggered easily in constant proximity to everyone here whether there is a real issue or not. I'm aware of it, but I can't regulate it well enough.

It's a flashback of the trauma years. I was trapped in a house with no personal space that wasn't fought for. My partner now a good person, with no sinister flaws, but I can take her direct nature as an attack if I'm not on the ball, especially if tired or unwell. The more tired I was before, the more my boundaries were assaulted.

Regarding what I wish I'd known at the start of all this: I think the big recovery starts when you accept that morality is not universal and that people can be spectacularly unkind, selfish and negligent. It's very hard to take that in. I am still shocked, not just by the behaviour of my inner associations, but by the relationships beyond that. Part of it comes from not "seeing" some of the support, but mostly I was profoundly let down regarding my ex-partner's decline. No one wanted to get their hands dirty. This is not rare, I wish I realized that earlier. You cannot live your life with high expectations regarding people, you have to see the best in people as a bonus, but never as part of your own personal defences because if that fails, you have nothing. I think it's also vital to accept that taking measures to defend yourself is a right. In abusive relationships, this is skewed endlessly with accusations of selfishness, weakness and oversensitivity, but it's as real as anything gets. I left my alcoholic ex because if I'd stayed I would have gone down with her. I don't need anyone to understand that, it's my reality. I wish I'd known that in a deeper sense. Also, you crave people to say something, anything... but mostly, they won't. You simply cannot hold out for intervention, the solutions have to all be homegrown. Knowing that people won't get it is a hard lesson, but you have to digest that or you will eat yourself up forever.

You have to lose your innocence.