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Thank You Moondance!

In fact I was referring to cold turkeying my C-PTSD, foolishly believing it can cure itself by just flat out facing it with no supervision. No cigarettes (my only drug, my only fleeing), no medication etc.

Cold turkeying. No cigarettes, no medication, nothing. It will be * I know. Nothing to lose. Time to set myself free. I got no money anyways, I'll go to a hospital if things get to chaotic. I'm nuts.
Wish me luck!

Establish feeling of safety. Once I'm in control of my self as a whole, I won't be bothered by those intrusive thoughts of my step-father intimidating me anymore.

Kizzie,

You talked about getting our dignity back. I already imagine the primitive laughing at that, and it makes me sick. In a crumbling civilization we get a lot of that kind of injustice, it's the lowest and the ugly that has the system arranged for them. So the noble and the humble are exposed to the danger they represent.

This is the one question that bugs me now though: how does one get one's dignity back? I feel this whole trauma problem, this whole suffering, falls back to that one question.

This morning, meditating on this:

The mere fact that my aggressor had me overlapping between safety and hazard - committing an agression to my person, and than the same day, acting normal to others and ACTUALLY wonder why I have a hard time staying polite with him, or what makes me nervous - we got quite a specimen as a study subject here folks. This overlapping alone is disturbing.

My home predator (aggressor) seemed to think I have time for this. The primitive, the low, seem to think we got time for them. They need to think that way, to optimize their chances of having themselves taken care of, to increase survival chances. Bullying is a sign of weakness, just as cruelty is.

Animals everywhere.

Better day today. I saw some girl friends lately, expanding my social network. One of them (she works in the mental health field) told me I have to accept what has happened to me. She says she knows it's easier said than done of course. But I will take back my confidence. The thing is really, my rational brains knows it wasn't my fault having been violated as a child, but my subconscious part still thinks I'm a loser for not having been capable of defending myself. I have to integrate that nothing, nothing could have been done.

I see in what way what I have is not completely unrelated to mental health, in a sense: some part of me won't make the difference between an instance (safety) and another (danger). Even when safe, meaning 100% of the time now and it's been that way for years too, some part of my mind is uncertain of being safe. The way I see it as for now.

Sorry Kizzie I just saw that you had replied before!

Well I praise you and your movement, for sure it has a lot to bring us, the tribe. It is absolutely unfair that we have to live with such a condition while others have nice lives, and often don't do much with it. I am in mourning.

Thank you for your though, and for the hopes

Hi,

I think of my position, that it is a very dire one: I have gifts but I cannot make use of them, thanks to this condition of C-PTSD, the one affliction that makes all the rest unusable.
Of course I've had the psychological reflex of telling myself ''yes but it confers me with other attributes'', which ones I don't know and this mentality kind of fades off anyway when I'm honest with myself, facing the fact that it's probably just for psychological survival. I probably will have to find something to fall back on, something creative like becoming a giver of hope to others, but I have to master the game first, meaning knowing what to do. And the truth of the matter is: is it really worth it? Especially when I think about the current world situation, everything that is happening: nothing to boost optimism, let's just put it this way.

Everytime I want to do something to distract myself, my abuser comes into my mind to remind me - in a way - that he can snatch even that away from me. I do not feel confident and for that I probably don't deserve my life back.

I'll read and re-read a bit of what is written on this forum. Thanks for reading.

I wonder if I should be living. The average and low-IQs they are happy and destroyed my life without even noticing. They win because they don't think, they just do. What am I to do?

Awful day today. My neighbors are scared of me, I've been in crisis since this morning. The danger that is the human animal won't leave my mind. They really did break me. I could have been the one. I was He. An absolutely great man, I was going to be. Accidence broke that. Look, it's not the end of the world, it's my end that's all. I screamed in the streets. I talk to myself and I exude a lot of aggressiveness in a general way.

I went to a lawyer this morning, to file a lawsuit against my aggressors. To what good, I don't know. What can I do? A friend told me to keep my composure.

I had the thrill of life as a youngster, now it's inaccessible or gone. That flame, that creative excitment you get when life awaits you. I had it. Now I'll just get older. When you're broken, you might not have access to yourself. It's a technical problem. It's where I am.

This is not venting, it is an attempt at finding solace in reporting what it's like. I did not make it. Stuck in the old paradox; it is precisely the state in which I find myself that prevents me from reporting on it, and if I were not in that state, I would not need to talk about it. Probably not the first one to mention this trap. The story of mental illness is a story of paradoxes. You might as well not even thake this seriously.

''There is never going to be a time when you can say X did this to me, but you know what, it is OK. Because it is NOT OK. You might choose not to dwell on it, heck, you might even choose to forgive X, but it will NEVER make what X did to you OK. I think what needs to fall apart is your trauma reaction to things that happen now which might actually be OK but which trigger you.''

Yes, I meant the traumatic reaction itself falling apart, not the phenomenon that caused it, that's right.

As for cutting the trigger threads, I would like know more about it, I'll see to it as much as I can, it's still kind of vague to me knowing what to do exactly. It's when I get up in the morning and when I eat, or when I do work, are normally the moments when I am more vulnerable to intrusive thoughts. Surely it has to do with the fact that the body is in a protection mode during those moments, so predators and predatory behavior from others, are what naturally come to mind, since I had a predator in my home when I grew up.

In regards to allowing myself to feel safe: I understand, it's just a little vague for me too. Those moments of reaching a truly relaxed state with friends, not thinking about being misunderstood or attacked, are absolutely priceless to me, and are rather rare, even though the setting - the conditions for them to happen - are not. They still sort of come up incidentally, while I do not really know how I brought myself to those moments. It's like I don't really believe I deserve to be relaxed and in a humurous mood, even though I am made like that in the first place, being naturally sociable; because of the tauma those moments feel weird, out of my comfort zone. As crazy as this might seem; but I think it's normal with trauma. Anyway feeling safe is the core of my goals for now, indeed.

Again, baby steps, but in which direction? Finding myself a good T, looks like a good goal for now.

Thanks a lot guys, reading you helps a lot. Have a nice day!

Moondance and Blueberry,

Your responses reassure me.

Yes I have heard of titration - going one drop at a time - otherwise it can be explosive.
But also, each time I try to do some work, physical or intellectual, it doesn't take much time for the trauma to manifest itself: feeling overwhelmed by memories, by how it is nonsensical to leave a dangerous adult such as my stepfather with a kid, how harmless I was anyway, etc. etc. and there is no way I can keep up with the said work. It's like a handicap. Even reading can have that effect  sometimes, studying, or having a job of course. My dream is to be freed from this, aiming at that end result - indeed it is hard and dangerous to do this alone. I need to tell my social worker (he studies on trauma to help me) that I need to dig (slowly) each memory that comes to mind that day, with him. I think it has a lot to do with relating and being understood by others.

Moondance, reading someone else's story can be efficient to dig in my own emotions, thinking about it, thanks for the cue.

I have some acceptance work to do, wishing it would unlock itself. The problem is it does, only with looooots time...

I am looking for ways to unleash the frozen emotions. For long, writing was impossible, it would trigger me. Now I can write, but I just don't really feel the traumatic memory fall apart. I can only see that it does, with time. It's like I would like to cry or fell any kind of relief, but I cannot reach that point; I know it doesn't come up instantly, but what work needs to be done?


Regards,

Wyge

Thank You for the kind response Kizzie,

Indeed, not alone anymore, that is key. I have counselors and docs that really do want to help me now too. I will read.

Truly Yours,

Wyge

 

Well thank you so much for greeting me in this way. I was a bit triggered when I wrote my first post, glad I found my way here as well. My triggered states often involve feeling transgressed for having been abused precisely, that's why the seeking of what to think of agressors philosophically speaking. I find solace in understanding.

I read on this site a little before typing this here text; as you know reading on the subject can be a trigger in itself. I'll do my best to reply in this state. Actually I think I'm in just the perfect state for writing, being connected to myself, but not too mad to type either. Intellectual work is rendered difficult by the trauma. It's contextual and technical. Always. Principles and the essence of things hardly have their way and it sucks.

I'm a single man in my thirties. I grew up alone, one child, with my mother who was a social worker and her boyfriend, who would turn out to be my secret bully, being animalistic to me as the archetype of the agressor-type step dad. No sexual violence though, but mental, psychological, physical, emotional and moral torture nonetheless. Chronic, incessant, solid transgressions and intrusions in my personal space, threats, insidious berating, violations of my integrity and dignity, bullying, unnecessary punishing or excessive and unrealistic task giving, generally making my existence a martyrdom, etc etc you get the idea. It's like the guy was phycically incapable of leaving me alone, makes you wonder if he was even aware of what his body was doing. Let's just say it wasn't an interesting position for me. I was seen as a territorial threat by someone in a position of power. The damage is non-neglectable, as my life is, I say, not a life so to speak. I got stuck in that gear. It hurt a lot folks.

I am not dead.

In short, I grew up with a dangerous animal in my enclosure, and here I am, monkey trying to cope in a jungle I sometimes perceive as being hostile to me. The last five years of my life, I had a metamorphosis, a huge developmental phase, reading daily, all kinds of books, non-fiction - by need not by discipline - acquiring many skills, if only the vocabulary and the efficiency of communication required to signify my thoughts already.
I won't even go through all the episodes and varieties of anecdotes that happened throughout the years (the meditating and screaming alone in the rainy forest; the reading my philosophers to myself out loud at the park, pretending I was addressing a crowd as a natural substitute for lack of being understood by physically present people; the being banned of some venues for having been mean to some employee; the cosmic pain associated with incidental reminders of my assessment, taking metaphysical proportions, etc we all have our story I know) Looks like I had to let the fog (the storm?...) of my 20s pass, after which I could find the way back to where I was at as a precocious child: learning, self-educating myself.

I am unable to keep a job. Need medication I think. That is yet another issue. Well, here I am.

That's it for today I wrote a lot. Have to make sense of this life, I'm incomplete and change goals all the time. As a man made for action, it sucks to not have a direction obviously. Am I seeing a semblance of a base emerging, being capable to tell my story at least? See, there is progress, but I feel that I need a click somewhere.

When the very prospect of finding your purpose is in itself your purpose, there's a feeling of entrapment. Sort of.

Thanks for reading,

Georges
Canada