Recent posts
#1
Recovery Journals / Re: Living As All of Me
Last post by HannahOne - Today at 08:33:14 PMToday I am signed up to tutor adults in reading. I'm excited to try this out.
Today I also went to the gym and did the elliptical! HOORAY!!! haha. I feel a bit pathetic. Compared to me earlier life of struggle and poverty, I am living the DREAM, going to a gym, so hoity toity of me! My past self would be shocked at the luxury. Why can't I just walk around the block? The PT said the elliptical is better for my knee for now. The whole thing is kinda silly.
But it's kind of a big deal. I got myself to get up, dress, leave the house, work out. That's huge progress. My cholesterol and other blood numbers were very bad, which is weird as I'm a healthy weight and don't eat meat or fried foods. Sometimes some chicken. They say maybe it's hereditary. Anyway, gotta get moving. And I have just a few weeks left before hiking so have to get stronger!
And, today I went to the animal rescue farm for my first day of work. All the animals were very happy and well cared for. The horses and rabbit see the dentist, the horses get their feet trimmed. There's a very large rooster commanding the place. Pigs, goats, donkeys. The main task at the time of day I go will be filling water buckets, checking welfare, and some poop picking. Luckily all the watering stations have a hose right there, so no lugging buckets which is good, as my back wouldn't allow it. I am scheduled for two hours once a week to start. It feels so good to be around animals that are physically and mentally well, there's a vibe in the air, like a rolling energy wave. Each animal made eye contact. They were curious and interested in me as a being. Each greeted my outstretched fist with a nose bump.
Each an individual. You could feel the difference in each one. This one moody, this one extraverted and curious and not too deep, this one a deep well. This one jumps in front of me and demands attention, this one leans on the fence and watches the scene. This one has to always be next to that one... When we see them as individuals, they become such. When we don't see it, we deprive them of their individuality, we make them just "a pig." But it's not just "a pig," it's Homer, and he has a life, a story, a unique personality, a unique way of connecting.
As kids we with CPTSD weren't seen and valued as individuals. We were just "a kid," a body, a problem. It's inhumane to treat a human as a thing. And it's not even mammalian to treat other animals as things. Sure, a pig can also be lunch. But it's still Homer, an individual pig. Happily, Homer will never become anyone's lunch. Animals at the farm stay for life, after years of being passed around, dumped, abandoned, left tied to a tree or on the side of the road. Each one has a story. I am looking forward to learning each animal. It will make me more of a human to do so.
I gave a poetry reading this weekend. I have to admit, it did not light my fire. Maybe that's another thing I'll retire along with spirituality/religion. I was amused though--I arrived very early, and as people trickled in, some stared at me. I checked myself: brown pin striped men's dress pants cuffed, blue button down, snakeskin Mary Janes. Was my hair sticking up? Finally someone said, "Are you the poet?" "Yeah, I'm the poet." "Oh, you look like a poet!" Mission accomplished, I guess? I was surprised I wasn't more into it. But that's what I'm trying to figure out. What's going to light my fire, what's going to keep me warm for the next few years, what's going to make me want to get out of bed? What's going to make life worth living? Not reading poetry, apparently. K. Noted.
What I did love was that the reading took place in an art gallery. I spent a lot of time looking at everything, and bought a painting of a dog on a path, in a forest, all rusty oranges and browns. A midlife dog looking down a path in orange fog. I mean, it's a metaphor.
There were many people working in individual studios in the gallery. I found myself longing to be one of them. I don't want to continue to paint religious icons as I've been doing. It's a very rigid art form and I've been doing it more than seven years yet still often feel paralyzed with perfectionism or scrupulosity. I'm not even religious anymore so technically I dont' have a priest's blessing to paint them anymore, either. I'm over it.
A new idea occurred to me. I would like to start painting animals. I'm going to use the same skills, egg tempera, gesso board, and make animal paintings. I can't rent a studio but I could work at home. And, I could sign up for a drawing class. I am looking at them, the timing doesn't quite work but if not this spring then this fall I'm going to take a drawing class. Visual art is more interesting than writing at the moment (as I write, LOL).... You have a physical object at the end of it. And I like the making of it. I'm gonna try it. Worst that happens is I can't translate the skill into drawings of animals and I end up with a bunch of ruined gesso boards. What's the point of a gesso board that stays blank, HannahOne? I have a little rigid efficiency monitor in my head, constantly demanding a reckoning, and account. You've wasted a gesso board! You've wasted a day! You've wasted your life!
It never shuts up. It's exhausting. Get a job! Get a better job! Get another job! Why aren't you working? when I'm parenting. Why aren't you parenting? when I'm working. What was the point of all of that suffering? Why are you still even here?
I can't answer those questions. They are the wrong questions. I can't justify what I went through. I can only get busy now. Get busy living, get busy living. Get busy, HannahOne. Life is worth living. I can make it worth it. I can let it be worth it. It's allowed to be worth it. I can accept what it took to get here. I can accept that I paid the cost. I can not hate myself for that. I don't have to punish myself and keep myself locked in a prison of misery for thirty years for the crime of escaping, surviving, fighting my way to get here. I can say that while the losses were terrible and the sacrifices inhumane, yet, they were worth it, because life is good. Overall. If not good, still worth it.
In struggling with the decision to have surgery I am thinking the same way. I'm lucky to have a choice even though all the choices suck. I'm sure I'll have regrets and wonder if it was worth it. I'm sure it won't be worth it, how could it be? It's my childhood all over again, I have to cut off part of me to survive. And, it will be worth it. Of course it will be. I had a choice then, and it led me here. I have a choice now. I can choose. Choose life, HannahOne. Choose life.
Today I also went to the gym and did the elliptical! HOORAY!!! haha. I feel a bit pathetic. Compared to me earlier life of struggle and poverty, I am living the DREAM, going to a gym, so hoity toity of me! My past self would be shocked at the luxury. Why can't I just walk around the block? The PT said the elliptical is better for my knee for now. The whole thing is kinda silly.
But it's kind of a big deal. I got myself to get up, dress, leave the house, work out. That's huge progress. My cholesterol and other blood numbers were very bad, which is weird as I'm a healthy weight and don't eat meat or fried foods. Sometimes some chicken. They say maybe it's hereditary. Anyway, gotta get moving. And I have just a few weeks left before hiking so have to get stronger!
And, today I went to the animal rescue farm for my first day of work. All the animals were very happy and well cared for. The horses and rabbit see the dentist, the horses get their feet trimmed. There's a very large rooster commanding the place. Pigs, goats, donkeys. The main task at the time of day I go will be filling water buckets, checking welfare, and some poop picking. Luckily all the watering stations have a hose right there, so no lugging buckets which is good, as my back wouldn't allow it. I am scheduled for two hours once a week to start. It feels so good to be around animals that are physically and mentally well, there's a vibe in the air, like a rolling energy wave. Each animal made eye contact. They were curious and interested in me as a being. Each greeted my outstretched fist with a nose bump.
Each an individual. You could feel the difference in each one. This one moody, this one extraverted and curious and not too deep, this one a deep well. This one jumps in front of me and demands attention, this one leans on the fence and watches the scene. This one has to always be next to that one... When we see them as individuals, they become such. When we don't see it, we deprive them of their individuality, we make them just "a pig." But it's not just "a pig," it's Homer, and he has a life, a story, a unique personality, a unique way of connecting.
As kids we with CPTSD weren't seen and valued as individuals. We were just "a kid," a body, a problem. It's inhumane to treat a human as a thing. And it's not even mammalian to treat other animals as things. Sure, a pig can also be lunch. But it's still Homer, an individual pig. Happily, Homer will never become anyone's lunch. Animals at the farm stay for life, after years of being passed around, dumped, abandoned, left tied to a tree or on the side of the road. Each one has a story. I am looking forward to learning each animal. It will make me more of a human to do so.
I gave a poetry reading this weekend. I have to admit, it did not light my fire. Maybe that's another thing I'll retire along with spirituality/religion. I was amused though--I arrived very early, and as people trickled in, some stared at me. I checked myself: brown pin striped men's dress pants cuffed, blue button down, snakeskin Mary Janes. Was my hair sticking up? Finally someone said, "Are you the poet?" "Yeah, I'm the poet." "Oh, you look like a poet!" Mission accomplished, I guess? I was surprised I wasn't more into it. But that's what I'm trying to figure out. What's going to light my fire, what's going to keep me warm for the next few years, what's going to make me want to get out of bed? What's going to make life worth living? Not reading poetry, apparently. K. Noted.
What I did love was that the reading took place in an art gallery. I spent a lot of time looking at everything, and bought a painting of a dog on a path, in a forest, all rusty oranges and browns. A midlife dog looking down a path in orange fog. I mean, it's a metaphor.
There were many people working in individual studios in the gallery. I found myself longing to be one of them. I don't want to continue to paint religious icons as I've been doing. It's a very rigid art form and I've been doing it more than seven years yet still often feel paralyzed with perfectionism or scrupulosity. I'm not even religious anymore so technically I dont' have a priest's blessing to paint them anymore, either. I'm over it.
A new idea occurred to me. I would like to start painting animals. I'm going to use the same skills, egg tempera, gesso board, and make animal paintings. I can't rent a studio but I could work at home. And, I could sign up for a drawing class. I am looking at them, the timing doesn't quite work but if not this spring then this fall I'm going to take a drawing class. Visual art is more interesting than writing at the moment (as I write, LOL).... You have a physical object at the end of it. And I like the making of it. I'm gonna try it. Worst that happens is I can't translate the skill into drawings of animals and I end up with a bunch of ruined gesso boards. What's the point of a gesso board that stays blank, HannahOne? I have a little rigid efficiency monitor in my head, constantly demanding a reckoning, and account. You've wasted a gesso board! You've wasted a day! You've wasted your life!
It never shuts up. It's exhausting. Get a job! Get a better job! Get another job! Why aren't you working? when I'm parenting. Why aren't you parenting? when I'm working. What was the point of all of that suffering? Why are you still even here?
I can't answer those questions. They are the wrong questions. I can't justify what I went through. I can only get busy now. Get busy living, get busy living. Get busy, HannahOne. Life is worth living. I can make it worth it. I can let it be worth it. It's allowed to be worth it. I can accept what it took to get here. I can accept that I paid the cost. I can not hate myself for that. I don't have to punish myself and keep myself locked in a prison of misery for thirty years for the crime of escaping, surviving, fighting my way to get here. I can say that while the losses were terrible and the sacrifices inhumane, yet, they were worth it, because life is good. Overall. If not good, still worth it.
In struggling with the decision to have surgery I am thinking the same way. I'm lucky to have a choice even though all the choices suck. I'm sure I'll have regrets and wonder if it was worth it. I'm sure it won't be worth it, how could it be? It's my childhood all over again, I have to cut off part of me to survive. And, it will be worth it. Of course it will be. I had a choice then, and it led me here. I have a choice now. I can choose. Choose life, HannahOne. Choose life.
#2
Recovery Journals / Re: Living As All of Me
Last post by HannahOne - Today at 08:20:53 PMNarcKiddo, thank you! I will PM here and you can send me the link to the page, I will check it out.
#3
Recovery Journals / Re: Dalloway´s Recovery Journa...
Last post by TheBigBlue - Today at 08:09:22 PM
- and so much more - to both of you, Dalloway and Marcine. OMG, I cried reading your words, cried in a good way. I felt your words in my body;
YOU spoke MY truth - and probably the truth of many here on the forum!
Thank You, just Thank You!!!
#4
Recovery Journals / Re: Dalloway´s Recovery Journa...
Last post by HannahOne - Today at 08:05:48 PMBeing misunderstood is so painful. You deserve to be seen and heard. Your feelings and reactions are valid and make sense in the context of your life. You know the reality of your experience, and you can trust it.
#5
Recovery Journals / Re: Dalloway´s Recovery Journa...
Last post by Marcine - Today at 07:16:02 PMDalloway, my friend.
You wrote,
"I don´t like this story I´ve been told. My reactions are not disproportionate. They are aligned with what I´m going through and experiencing at the moment. There´s nothing untrue about it."
This powerful awareness belongs to you.
No one can take away your truth.
Your voice is beautiful, sister.
You wrote,
"I don´t like this story I´ve been told. My reactions are not disproportionate. They are aligned with what I´m going through and experiencing at the moment. There´s nothing untrue about it."
This powerful awareness belongs to you.
No one can take away your truth.
Your voice is beautiful, sister.
#7
Self-Help & Recovery / Re: Not being able to ask for ...
Last post by Kizzie - Today at 04:31:01 PMSaluki, I wonder if being reluctant to ask him is not only because you need to be fiercely independent, but maybe because you're also afraid of how he will react. And by this I mean it's an in either case I'll be triggered kind of way. If he reacts by helping you are no longer as independent, it feels like you are being dependent and for us that can be quite triggering, especially for you given what you went through with your ex. And if he does something like sigh and get up reluctantly, then he is not the person you think he is - "loving and caring and reasonable and kind" and instead a throw back to your ex.
I can hear the frustration in your post and the sadness about life not being simple and kinder and less confusing and I 'm so sorry you are dealing with that. CPTSD sucks. In my experience understanding why I feel the way I do in certain situations and being compassionate with myself has helped and given me the emotional wherewithal to try to do things differently. Maybe it's what will help you.
I can hear the frustration in your post and the sadness about life not being simple and kinder and less confusing and I 'm so sorry you are dealing with that. CPTSD sucks. In my experience understanding why I feel the way I do in certain situations and being compassionate with myself has helped and given me the emotional wherewithal to try to do things differently. Maybe it's what will help you.
#8
Personality Disorder (Perpetrator) / Re: Undiagnosed Autistic Mothe...
Last post by Whobuddy - Today at 04:15:34 PMThank you for your reply. I have been thinking about it a lot.
My recent discovery of my M's likely Undiagnosed Autism in some ways changes my whole life story and in some ways changes nothing. As you point out: motives may not be conscious. How much were our Ms in control of their motives and actions. If a narcissist cannot act any other way is their behavior actually their fault? Same with BPD and autism.
There is a disconnect between their actions and the damage they did/do to us. Were they purposefully hurtful?
I had previously believed that M's actions were at least partially conscious, at least partially based on something I did, said, didn't do, didn't say but now I am processing that her outbursts and insensitivity were solely a result of overwhelm that she didn't plan nor could she control. And then she didn't remember what she had done - at least not with clarity.
There will always be the fact that she could have made an effort to be a better parent but in her generation that wasn't as much of a thing as it is now. Parents could be mean to their kids and little or no notice was taken.
My recent discovery of my M's likely Undiagnosed Autism in some ways changes my whole life story and in some ways changes nothing. As you point out: motives may not be conscious. How much were our Ms in control of their motives and actions. If a narcissist cannot act any other way is their behavior actually their fault? Same with BPD and autism.
There is a disconnect between their actions and the damage they did/do to us. Were they purposefully hurtful?
I had previously believed that M's actions were at least partially conscious, at least partially based on something I did, said, didn't do, didn't say but now I am processing that her outbursts and insensitivity were solely a result of overwhelm that she didn't plan nor could she control. And then she didn't remember what she had done - at least not with clarity.
There will always be the fact that she could have made an effort to be a better parent but in her generation that wasn't as much of a thing as it is now. Parents could be mean to their kids and little or no notice was taken.
