Day 10.
It has been 10 days since he walked out, hurting and confused as well as angry. I was so sure it was his Borderline that did the damage, never imagining it could be my fault too. I was so convinced he was to blame. But my calm detachment was not normal. I stared out the door, and his packing didn't even move me. I just stared... he was thousands of miles from me. Just sitting and zoning out - I felt nothing but a sense of resignation. It took almost 5 days to cry or feel anything. He asked me to see someone for help before he would talk to me. REALLY? I mean really? Isn't BPD worse than PTSD? So he was the problem - it had to be him. I am not angry, just traumatized, right?
I have learned so much since this morning. CPTSD is good at hiding inside and masking EF rages behind justification, righting wrongs or overturning injustice. Being marinated in trauma makes it okay to say outright how you see things - no matter how hurtful, right? "We're not gonna take it anymore" plays in my head... Wait a minute. Is his voice quivering? Is he hurt? Who hurt him? It would NEVER be me. I am keeping his heart safe, and I love him completely. Is that voice coming out of me? The dead-pan one... the one saying those things that I feel, but won't normally speak. What JUST HAPPENED??!? I would never... Oh yeah. The inner critic. The one who evicerates me inside my head on a regular basis. It now has turned on my lover. No patience, no tolerance, no allowance for his pain/anger or feelings. Only rigidity. Absence of mercy... brimming with cold indifference. This must end. This critical voice needs to die once and for all time. The battle has begun.
I don't have any wisdom for you, Solace. All I want you to know is that I've listened and I'm here for you. :hug:
Thank you DecimalRocket. :wave:
I appreciate your presence... even just knowing someone is there listening to my complete honest expressions with no fawning involved means there is hope for me.
Ever since I was a small child, everything had to be said with such a careful, apologetic stance, painted and presented like it was an undeserved privilege to express my own feelings. At 56, I think it's time to start being brave somewhere, some how. But words... I hate speaking them. Writing them is so much easier. My journal is safe here... only objective eyes can see it.
It sounds like you have had an important revelation Seeking Solace and one that could help your relationship(s). Are you thinking of seeing a therapist as your partner suggested?
I have my first appointment for starting a treatment plan on Tuesday of this week. I am armed with C-PTSD info and print outs from this site to go in and tackle this with a bit of a head start.
The fact is, G and I have been together 16 years and have fought to be loyal friends as well as lovers through thick and thin. He married me and took in my 5 children, I was newly widowed. He never backed down or faltered. The least I can do is face my demons for him so we can live out our time alone more peacefully and fulfilling. The 'baby' just left home and drove her car one state over to settle in there with her friends. It's finally time for us... and then this happens. No.
We deserve more. Our story is not over yet.
ss, you sound so strong, so determined, so full of righteous commitment. it's great to hear and feel. yep, i can feel it emanating from you. you go!
brave of you to take on that ICr. it's a biggie, but i have no doubt you'll be successful. love and hugs to you.
Quote from: Seeking Solace on May 07, 2018, 01:22:41 AM
I have my first appointment for starting a treatment plan on Tuesday of this week. I am armed with C-PTSD info and print outs from this site to go in and tackle this with a bit of a head start.
The fact is, G and I have been together 16 years and have fought to be loyal friends as well as lovers through thick and thin. He married me and took in my 5 children, I was newly widowed. He never backed down or faltered. The least I can do is face my demons for him so we can live out our time alone more peacefully and fulfilling. The 'baby' just left home and drove her car one state over to settle in there with her friends. It's finally time for us... and then this happens. No.
We deserve more. Our story is not over yet.
It's cliche I know but 'the best things in life are worth fighting for' and your relationship certainly sounds like a "good thing" in your life. All the best for Tuesday, I hope it is what you need :yes:
So Tuesday is finally here. The full impact of what I am about to tackle is right in front of me. It's like how I would imagine a soldier would feel looking down over the field watching his opposing force gather and ready themselves for a siege or battle. It's a bit daunting... to say the least. Especially because I feel the defense mechanisms in me gearing up for an emotional shut down -- making sure I come across as a cool, collected specimen who has her life in order. But has this 'small pesky problem'... :blink: Really?
:blahblahblah: smokescreen.
None of that.
It feels more like this... :fallingbricks:
My life is falling apart and it's not funny.
I really hate what I am... inside and outside... it's easy for me to talk about that part. I have talked about that many times. But it never helps. All it does is stir up old wounds and cause pain without any benefit? What will be different this time? Will it be different? How do I go about making it different? Mere determination isn't enough. I have to be sure it works this time - my G is counting on me. But what if I am a curse to the men in my life? My first husband said I was the reason he was a failure -- and he meant it fervently. What if I am going to destroy the very one I love so much by drowning him in my uncertainties and insecurities? Or beating him down with my EF's exaggerated sense of justice or the huge pool of criticisms from my critic's overactivity?
There are so many things lurking along the way. This journey is fraught with dangers -- most of them from within. Repressed memories, pain untapped, anger-rage-wrath at those who have contributed to this self-loathing that has become my core... rage at myself for being weak and so vulnerable.
I literally hate mirrors. I think they should be outlawed. Like Captain Hook and his clocks, I would smash every one of them in my world. They have no place in my life. AT ALL. I can wash my face, brush my teeth, dry my hair and get dressed WITHOUT looking at my reflection. I HATE my body. Did you ever think that hate is just not a strong enough word? Yet, my husband wants to see it. How does that happen? It's so hard to do that. I hide it most of the time.
I used to be proud of my artwork, now all I can do is compare it to others and find the reasons why I am not good enough. But I can't stop drawing because it is the ONLY thing I ever fought to keep doing for myself. I stopped once for 15 years or so. I got lost.
These ramblings make little sense, but it is what it is. A journal, right? Oh well. I shall make myself some coffee... and try to leave my mask at home today.
Seeking Solace, you said: "These ramblings make little sense..."
In some circles, that would be an accurate assessment. But here, for better or worse it fits many of our struggles, to where all those doubts about ourselves have come to a crescendo. So we spill them out on the page, and somehow we're still here, living into the questions and not avoiding them anymore.
Even the masks we use might prove functional, but only in an emergency. Because it's also dangerous to travel too far without recourse to what's gone before, much as we'd just like to toss the masks; which is both a blessing but too often a curse that drags us down. I'm doing a bit of that here, throwing up words to help me communicate, as I've lost or felt like I've failed in so much of what I've tried. I sense some of the same has happened with your life.
So I'm wishing you well for today's endeavour. And congratulating you for taking the risk of reaching out. :hug:
I don't enjoy looking at my own reflection either. I don't brush my teeth in the bathroom and more near the kitchen faucet without a mirror, and avoid looking at my reflection on digital screens when it's a black background. Less to do with a need to look beautiful than it does with gender dysphoria issues, but I feel a similar disgust.
Lots of us have issues with our own selves -- outside and inside. People are expected to be special to be loved, but that's nearly impossible -- since special implies there'll be several people who aren't special that are left out. Even those who are special in some way in some talent or another aren't happy. Lots of them get bombarded with messages of envy and hatred for them being better than others when they're just passionate about something they enjoy doing, and it's a sad thing to watch.
I'm in both situations in different areas in my life, and it's a lose-lose situation if you think about it. You don't need to be perfect to be loved and worth something. You're alright as you are.
:hug: for you if it's alright.
How did your appointment go SS?
how are you doing? are you feeling a bit more stable?
i'm just glad you were able to get that ranting out of you. that's what these journals are for and why we're here. they don't have to make any sense to anyone, but they probably make sense to many. it's for you, that's most important.
so very glad you shared, and that you're here. we'll all keep chipping away at those ICr's. love and hugs.
So I went to my first actual therapy appointment today with my new therapist. The one last week was a clinic appointment just to get established as a clinic patient. The best way I can describe her was that she is very 'zen' and very intuitive. She pays close attention, but knows how to do so without making you feel like a goldfish in a bowl.
So, I am hopeful. I have a prescription for an antihistamine that I take at night to help me sleep and sedate me so I can relax. My husband is back now :hug: and we are both trying very hard to make things better for both of us. I am SO glad to have him back home. It just didn't feel like a home without him here. My kids tried to help ease things, but no one can fill the hole when he is gone. He is my closest friend and so much more. I haven't been on the web much except for working this week or last. Just tired and worn down I suppose. Also didn't feel much like talking.
Really weary tonight... but feeling very hopeful. Good night.
Oh Solace, lots of us can feel lonely when someone dear to us is gone, and I'm glad your husband is back then. That must be good news.
Glad to hear that you are doing a bit better, may have a good T in your corner and especially that your H is home again and you are talking and working on things :hug:
So. I have been taking a fresh look at things. My sister, who never understood me at all, said to me once that I needed to take off my rose-colored glasses. Turns out I don't have any and never did. Things have often colored my view of the people in my life, but none of them rose-colored.
Examples: (Possible trigger warning on number 3)
1) GREY -- It all began with the belief that I was nothing important and was always in the way... It gave me the idea to turn the lights down and walk about in a dim place. Quiet and unobtrusive, furtively darting from shadow to shadow, careful not to tread too heavily or trample anything in my efforts to remain unnoticed. Grey shrouded everything. I only remember small pieces of color. My grandfather sitting quietly on his beautifully painted, shiny green glider-- me, peacefully leaning into his side, safe and secure while the orange end of his cigarette danced to and from his lips slowly and thoughtfully. Silently the breeze brushed my cheeks as we whooshed through the evening air listening to the night fall around us. Until the back door opened and broke the spell. Stark light fell across the porch erasing all color, as a voice clipped and businesslike stated matter of factly, "we are leaving. GET IN THE CAR." Poof. It was gone. Grey was everywhere. The car ride home was silent as well... gazing through the window up at the stars as the power lines danced up and down from pole to pole. The seat was always cold. The silence broken only by the tension crackling in the air.
2) School was stark white. Blinding lights everywhere. Noise everywhere. Confusion, the grating din of ridiculous laughter like branches scratching on a tin washtub. Books and new crayons my dearest silent companions. Rows of desks. Rows of faces. You mustn't ever miss the bus. You must always listen and I expect no bad marks on your report card. Children staring. My face is burning. They can see me. Too much light. I must disappear into the paper. I can draw and write myself away into the paper where no one will ever find me. I can write my own story there. It will be safe there. Only the pencils and crayons know where I am and they can't speak and they always understand me.
3) Light GREEN -- The attic room. Green is all I can see. Horrible pale mint green, a white hospital bed metal, bouncy and springy... then try to wiggle away... then fear. Pale green is all I can see. This tiny room must be a dungeon like in my stories of princesses and dragons. There is no prince, only monsters. Grey is better than this horrible green. I like grey, it's safer there.
4) Red -- embarrassment. Freak. Red blotchy blobs of ugly scales on my face, in my hair, all over my misshapen hormone wracked body. The one breast that grows is covered in lesions. Desperately I try to flatten it or hide it. Why isn't the other one growing? Soaking in stinky tar salve on my head all night to keep my scalp from coming off in dry ugly dragon scales. Doctors poking and prodding, burning yeast infections and a constant fire in my stomach. Red -- everywhere. Can't hide. No where to run. Girls in the locker room stare, laugh and point. Change in the bathroom stall. Hide out until the redemption of the bell. Then duck behind the comforting stack of books in my arms and run to the art room where I can find my silent friends again. The only ones who don't laugh at me or think me a disappointment. Will the red ever fade?? As I donned the red graduation gown... with the ending of school days, the red began to fade.
More colors to come... still no rose. Enough history for now.
I took a chance and told my therapist that I always come across as well-composed and put together. It is deceiving and a protection for me because it keeps me safe from uncomfortable things. I learned to be invisible without disappearing. I hide behind a collected mask. I hope that I did the right thing.
Quote from: Seeking Solace on May 06, 2018, 03:58:09 AM
No patience, no tolerance, no allowance for his pain/anger or feelings. Only rigidity. Absence of mercy... brimming with cold indifference. This must end. This critical voice needs to die once and for all time. The battle has begun.
With that approach it will surely die, but soon you'd become him/her. Would you really want that for yourself? Hate only begets hate.
Weird as it may seem... you just need to be
more kind to yourself and then project that kindness on others. Magic happens.
And no I'm not your inner critic so feel free to ignore me. :)
Quote from: Seeking Solace on May 06, 2018, 03:58:09 AM
Ever since I was a small child, everything had to be said with such a careful, apologetic stance, painted and presented like it was an undeserved privilege to express my own feelings. At 56, I think it's time to start being brave somewhere, some how. But words... I hate speaking them. Writing them is so much easier. My journal is safe here... only objective eyes can see it.
:hug:
"Speak your mind even if your voice shakes."
― Maggie Kuhn
your color-coded images were fascinating, altho not necessarily enjoyable. i like the idea of giving some of those situations another perspective, such as color. i think it helps make them more whole, thus more accessible. and, when they are more accessible, i do believe they can more easily be captured, explored, understood, and resolved.
do you have a color for your inner critic? some color that is all encompassing. it may help to make the battle a little less cumbersome.
keep taking care of you first, always. if i may respectfully add another aspect to bhupendra's thoughts, i have also hated some of the people in my life. it's been a phase that seemed necessary to go thru. some of it is still there, but much of it has dissipated over time and thru recovery. i think it's ok to allow our feelings, but just be careful that they don't run or ruin our lives to the point of no return. that would also come under self-care.
i do agree with bhupendra tho that magic happens. while we continue with our healing, things can have a magical way of changing. getting some of the venom out can be a first step. love and hugs to you, s.s.
sanmagic7: If I had to give a color to the inner critic, I would say Brilliant Shining Yellow. (Really? That was unexpected.)
My inner critic, when planted gave the dangerous illusion of being helpful, sunny, bright and perfect in its intentions (thus perfect in its expectations). It was to brightly expose the weaknesses in me and light the way to become a better person. It seemed to be under the impression that its the voice of what it takes to be without fault... and wholly good. But it blinds, overwhelms and washes out all uniqueness, fading detail, and over time making many things brittle, easily broken or hard and inflexible. This relentless critic is merciless in its pursuit of making all it touches into works of vain perfection, but if left unchecked, makes shells of the subjects that are constantly subject to its voice and thoughts...
As bhupendra says -- if I allow my inner critic to reign unchecked, I will soon become him. A prospect that will cost me dearly and will literally be the end of 'me'. -- Thank you for your insight.
Love never fails to help. I choose love and kindness... patience and consistent hope... Magic does happen. I have seen it. No forced or professed perfection exists where it is.
The inner critic has no presence there. I MUST keep reminding myself of that.
:blink:
Pretty much sums it up right now. I have had a rough day. Lots of work and household duties. Tired. A bit under the weather... But overall, other than my kitten spazzing out all over the house, things are pretty low key. She is really going nuts. I wish you all could see this!!
Made some changes and some progress the last few days. My T is still taking my assessment... halfway through and I got flushed and shaky. Next Tuesday we should finish it up. Hopefully.
She is trained in EMDR -- has anyone done that? What is it like? I am a little curious and need to look it up. So tired. Good night for now.
hey, s.s., actually, i'm an emdr therapist for about 25 yrs. it's a therapeutic tool that can be utilized to help the brain reprocess traumatic memories so that they lose their 'punch' in our lives. of course, that's simplistic, but i do know that with the right t, it can be a very powerful tool to help us heal.
may i suggest that it's ok to speak up if things are going too fast or you're being asked to take on too much? with c-ptsd, at times slower is faster, a paradox that allows us to make more progress if we don't become overwhelmed. you have the right to ask questions if you're confused about something, to ask to take a break from the process, and to basically let your t know if you ever feel uncomfy about something being asked of you.
if you have any specific questions, feel free to pm me. others here have experience with emdr, and hopefully you'll get more client-centered responses from them. i totally recommend emdr as a helping hand to healing when used correctly. best to you, and i'd love to hear how it goes. love and a big hug moving forward on your path to health and well-being.
:fallingbricks: :stars:
Trying to stay positive. Trying being the operative word here.
The inner critic got some very useful information last night. I guess this whole honest communication thing is a risk. Now I have to figure out how to keep the info from being used to sabotage my efforts to be better in my relationship with both my husband and myself. It would be easy to plant it in a landmine and just wait for my husband to step on it, but that was the old way. I will see if I can wrestle it away while the inner critic is busy with another demeaning project.
Change is hard.
i think you're right - honest communication can be risky. from my perspective, i would rather have it than not, tho. at least with honesty, i know where i stand, can see the cards on the table, and make choices and decisions based on a solid footing.
change can definitely be hard. here's hoping that you are able to navigate these waters in the healthiest way possible. best to you, s.s. love and hugs.
Quote from: Seeking Solace
I choose love and kindness... patience and consistent hope... Magic does happen. I have seen it. No forced or professed perfection exists where it is.
Yes. :thumbup:
Quote from: Seeking Solace
:fallingbricks: :stars:
Trying to stay positive. Trying being the operative word here.
You don't need to force yourself. No need for any operative word. I hope you know that the word 'trying' also mean difficult to endure. Refrain from using words like 'try' and 'trying' in your actions as it often leads to 'tried'. You
are kind, positive, optimistic, compassionate.... You already know that. Now you are simply being.
Quote from: Seeking Solace
Change is hard.
Change is never hard or easy. Change is change. It is the only constant.
This time you have chosen the change. The change has not chosen you.
It has been quite awhile since I posted. Not sure what to say. One step forward, ninety steps back.
Life is so completely ridiculous.
I have decided to literally stop everything. Why am I trying to fix this? Yes - I said 'trying' because I am not successfully fixing anything. The more I dig, the more I try, the bigger the mess gets. The more happy I get, the more miserable my home environment becomes. I try to take care of myself by taking down time and I am a 'bad' person if it affects others expectations. I have no rights to being a genuine me. I am cursed to being what is expected. I am to be a stepford wife. Not allowed to grow old, not allowed to be cracked or let emotions come through in my voice... not allowed to be tired or say that I hurt. I must push-push-push. Must be smiling and happy. Must let my cat be threatened, bullied and chased around like a frightened mouse. Must let my adult children be eviserated verbally and then banned from my home. I must forgive with a big smile and lots of hugs, reaffirm my oodles of love for this man who berates, curses and manipulates me when I speak up and communicate my conflicting thoughts and views. When I reach out for something good - if it is not about him, he permits it, but soon resents it with seething jealousy. He must be the 'allspark' center of my world to feel like he is loved.
I have just decided to stop trying to be anything but what I have to be to get through this life. It may be miserable, but at least I am 'loved'. Ironically the good book says "True love leaves fear outside..." 1 John 4:18. Is this really love if I am constantly in fear of being ostracized or abandoned because of my imperfections? I must be crazy because that is the only kind of love I have ever known from a man.
i don't think you're crazy, ss, but i do think you've been conditioned to accept abuse as an adjunct to being 'loved'. you've been taught well, and you've learned well. that's not crazy - that's survival.
i'm glad you were able to write about it here. perhaps you'll find some clarity thru your words and some support thru the words of others. i don't believe that love has to include either pain or fear. i do believe that too many of us were told we were loved by parents, relatives, friends, partners, etc. at the same time we were loaded with unrealistic expectations to accept any and all abuse that was meted out by them.
i don't believe that's love, but words that were meant to be used against us as a way to manipulate us and keep us within reach of those who want to vent their own displeasure with themselves and their lives on someone near. they kept us near, and we not only bore the brunt of their own self-negativity, we came to believe we had to tolerate and accept it as 'normal'.
no wonder your 'trying' doesn't work. the perspective you've been handed has been skewed and distorted. you are 'trying' to be and act sanely in an insane paradigm. no personal boundaries allowed - that's not sanity. no weight nor credence to your viewpoint or perspective - not sanity, either. your world has been handed too you upside down and you've been trying to be functional in the severe dysfunctionality of it.
just want you to know that i hear you, and my heart is with you. sending love and a hug filled with calm, peace, caring, and acceptance of you just as you are. you don't have to be any different than yourself to deserve and feel real love.
Quote from: sanmagic7 on August 19, 2018, 07:25:04 PM
i don't think you're crazy, ss, but i do think you've been conditioned to accept abuse as an adjunct to being 'loved'. you've been taught well, and you've learned well. that's not crazy
:yeahthat: