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I struggled also with my parents demands for clothing as a child, definitely treated like doll.
How or what I liked wearing was not the point, I have numerous memories of me struggling with straight up uncomfortable (and in my opinion, ugly) clothing while sitting in school. It was as though my internal experience was not worthy of being considered.
Thanks alot Mom!

I used to have her words running through my head whenever I was shopping for clothes or getting dressed, but thankfully I no longer really experience this.

I don't know if you experience this when you experience gifts from her, but when I get gifts from my mom, I often feel saddened by what she buys for me, it's often things I would never wear or buy or use, and it leaves feeling completely unseen as a person. Like why even bother, maybe she's still hoping I'll become the thing she always wanted me to be.

NarcKiddo,
Very much agree with Armee, I too burst out laughing at the reveal it was a hairball she had given you! I was not expecting that in the least.

On the surface it's a gift, so one thinks they should be grateful, but it's made out of something gross, so why would anyone want it? And why would anyone give it??

I find it interesting why I should have such a visceral reaction to the notion of giving her my hair. It's even worse than being given hers.

There is a sticky gross closeness I feel with parts of my family where I detest their desire to come close to me, whether that's through confiding in me, gifts, or physical touch. I think for me it comes from knowing the kind of closeness they want isn't safe and isn't in fact closeness but control or possession. They want me as an extension of themselves but not as the person I am. Their closeness is conditional and so it disgusts me, as I feel they are performing to get what they want.

So I feel repulsed at the idea of giving them even an inch of me. I feel very protective of what I share with my family and so can relate to that feeling of danger you express at the thought of giving her your hair or toenails.

Thank you for your reply PaperDoll,

I feel less alone knowing someone has experienced something similar, though I wish we both hadn't.

I haven't been able to speak to a therapist about it yet but what helped me a little what that regardless of whether the memory is entirely accurate or not, my body is trying to tell me something by bringing it to my attention.

This is true, regardless of whether or not the exact details are or aren't accurate, the body is trying to tell us something.
Though I find I feel a little out of control when the memories aren't clear, as I'd much rather they hadn't happened, so I find myself trying to doubt myself. I think this is a pattern my body follows where it slowly leaks out more information about a memory as I become more accepting that it in fact happened, like it knows I can only take so much at a time.

I don't have a therapist right now, I've been kind of looking but the options in my area with my health insurance aren't that great. I will continue to look for a therapist and reread The Body Keeps the Score. Hopefully we can both find some answers there.

I can't tell if I am misinterpreting these faint remembrances or not, but they scare me because they involve a female family member I thought was safe. She was one of the only FOO family members I kept contact with. She is nearly 90, her husband passed away recently.
I feel pity for her, and have good memories with her.

These faint weird memories don't involve her abusing me but rather my male cousin who was a year older than me. I have no contact with him currently and no one in my family has ever recognized other instances of abuse so I have no one to ask.
This memory was definitely at my grandmas house but I don't remember who exactly was involved except for my male cousin. And my other cousin, my sister, and I walking in on them while we were all children being watched at my grandparents house while our parents were at work.

I guess I just wait and see if more information shakes out of my mind? (as has been the case previously with other memories). I'm struggling with wanting to maintain contact with my grandma as this abuse is unconfirmed and with cutting ties, as I feel gross continuing to call her to see how she's doing with all this going on. I haven't talked to her in maybe a month or so and feel guilty as I know she is very old lonely, but I feel very conflicted.

Thank you for replies, I'm finding the rhyming helps me not overthink what I'm writing, I'm too busy trying to think up a rhyme.

Saluki, I relate to so much of what you wrote, thank you for sharing.
I was also forced to wear 'girly' clothing as a child and hated it as the dresses left me much more accessible for abuse. Presently, I also wear only men's clothing. I sometimes wear a skirt in my house if all my other clothes are dirty, but I always feel uncomfortable wearing them out of the house.

Thank you for sharing the hair trigger, I think that actually might be what's been going on with me. My hair has been getting longer, it hasn't been this long in a long time. Maybe it is reminding me of being younger.
I have also been having the urge to cut my hair short again. Maybe my subconscious has been more aware than me.

I guess feeling guilty about changing plans is partly our abusers' voices beating us up emotionally for them, and maybe partly it's our brain's way of trying to push us to do stuff that we know, logically, is actually probably safe to do, but due to trauma, feels like a threat. I have to really push myself to do things. I struggle so much with doing pretty much everything at the moment so I know what it's like.

I often get trapped in this loop of like trying to force myself to do something but then being like "isn't that what my abusers did to me?". And then I'm afraid of re-traumatizing myself. But I also find that hiding away can make me feel terrible also.
I'm sad to hear you're struggling to do things right now, if it's of any consolation I am struggling also.
At least we know we're not alone 

Does this happen to anyone else? If so what do you do to help yourself through it?

If I wear a certain combination of long underwear and jeans or nylon pants I feel a disgusting feeling in my body, or like I'm floating. I can relate this back to trauma during camping trips. So I never wear that clothing combination anymore.

Wearing dirty clothes also triggers this for me, A disgusting feeling that incites me to clean everything or hide in my bed. It may just that I don't like feeling dirty, but I feel like it relates to the downward days when my mother was depressed and unable to wash clothes. When my mother was depressed my father had full reign of the house and everyone in it.

Certain weather also brings about that feeling, and this feeling like sadness along with it. I have a few memories of traumatic events during this type of weather/season that I assume is related.

Just today I had to go outside to mail a package and the weather affected me so much that I had to cancel my plans for later that day. I was torn between making myself go and letting myself hide. I chose to hide, I don't know if I made the right choice, I feel guilty for doing so, like my friend will hate me and won't believe my 'excuse' that I got triggered.

EMDR helped me with these issues in the past, but I believe I re-traumatized myself a few years ago with an overly long stay with my FOO.

TW SA

I wish to wash my hands of you, be free and finally me, but you are here and there and everywhere, in my eyes and holes and teeth

From the marrow to my seed

watching me change you told me you made me
that it was ok to parade me
that it was ok to fillet me
that I was just another part of you
to torture to please to be thrown down and chewed

Your epic hands around my waist
I wish I wasn't any place
any place that time could tell
at least I'd be away from *

Your fluids flowing off the map I see the white wall staring back
I see the paint stained across my hands
I see the future buried in sand

Hiding in plain sight, I am, hiding in plain sight I am, trying not to let my secrets spill, trying not to be your thrill
I'd chop your hands off for me to hold them, the safest way I'd know to know them
the only way I'm free of you, is when we are both through

It'd be easier, if you hadn't shown us the sunset
said to remember this when we were sad
How angry I am that you could also be bad

You kept us secret so we wouldn't know
That there was more places to go
to find love and protection
to be cared for without misdirection
You told me lies
now I know you were just scared to be left behind

hide behind your mound of trash, you had the option not to be trash, I guess your life is your punishment, both of you deserve punishment, I sorry you were made this way, I'll make it my life's work not to be the same

There is a place inside my essence, a closet I was locked in, no literally,
there way no light in there, so full of stuff it felt like no air,
what we kids did to pass the time
I don't think I ever want to find

A softest place I am alone, all alone, no one home
there I can live and breathe, and not be used and not be seen
and become a monster still, whose use of power turns the till
until it becomes a loop
a noose a neck
a future loose

remember when you taught me how
my necklace could be used to kill
me when I was on the ground,
you showed me
how I could die
and my mom ran off
when you would apologize and often cry
it left no room for me to be
anything other than a comfort to your apologies

Remember when you used to hurt use, call us names and betray us
and then you'd come and say sorry, say your dad had taught you poorly, that things were even worse for you
you used to tickle us until we smiled, don't you know it wasn't true
make us say 'I love you too'
nothing that you're forced to do
is ever true
I taught my body, how to control its reflexes, all this i did in spite of you, how happy I was to frustrate you,
not give you what you wanted
but now I carry my winces in my bones, and old warrior, all alone, to live out their last days, though I'm only 28


remember when it didn't stop
not even when I told my mom
remember how she apologized, said he'd still have to check between my thighs
for bugs when I played outside
and remember when his breathing varied, fingers up where they shouldn't be carried, remember when you said with a stare:
"There aren't any bugs in there"

you stole my life and memories
I hate you for it my enemies
you were my family so I was told
and that all together we'd grow old
and just that thought of knowing You, was enough to make me think I was through, of life and everything in it,
where was I to go?
The best place we are told is home

I am wondering when I will fall again
down the well
ever falling ever *
 heaven sent her
 so I thought
 pay the toll or get dropped

There is a old rain barrel outside the house, its grief, full of dead bugs, floating and breeding on the water,
why don't you dump it out
we save the water just in case

if we are thirsty
(though we were always thirsty)
from its poison well
what good will that water do, only kill us quicker

pour it out, whose eyes are watching
there was a time it was the only source
of nourishment
its maggots

i am watching
the sky is out
(though it has always been out)

the rain is fresh to my open mouth
I never drank from the source
new rain, same water, now new now clean, reconfigured, join with us but don't forget
can't yet, its molecular core
water never forgets the light shown to it
neither do we
walk towards the lightness
restore the balance
saving the best for last 

People say its very much better than earth
Remember: we already lived there before birth

beautiful to find the hope there, thank you for sharing, I feel every stanza

I am impressed by your willingness to push yourself to share a little more at a time.

To be fair, the feelings I expressed to her were so vague I don't think she could take offense, but at least I said something as I was getting more and more resentful.

I have lived for decades thinking anyone who said anything nice to me was either just trying to be nice or was setting me up to humiliate me with a "gotcha".

Definitely, we feel like we can't trust their intentions. For me, I am sure they are only being complimentary to get something from me, which is how a few of my family members operated. I remember one who would be nice and then get what he wanted from me and then ignore me or be cruel to me after, and then he'd be kind and charming to me some other day and I'd give in and he'd get what he wanted from me. And the cycle continued until I learned to never listen to him.

When getting into a pool, I am always that guy who goes in one toe at a time, letting myself acclimate to the temperature before pushing another inch of ankle or calf in next. 

I admire your ability to pace. I struggle with the pacing of healing, I always just want to 'get it over with'. I find the spiral or the onion of healing difficult, at low points I wonder when I will finally be free of this. Though I guess that is the healing, that what has happened will always have happened, and it is how we relate to it I guess, that is what matters. I think I have been going too fast recently, I will try to keep your method in mind. Thanks for your reply

From what I read in your posts, you seem to be a caring and kind person. I admire your comments about your friend, and how you don't know why she's struggling.

I appreciate your kind words, though I initially felt a disconnect that caused me to reflect on my aversion to compliments. I think it is because I don't feel very caring or kind, I feel more like a lumbering monster trying not to move so that I don't inadvertently knock over buildings.

I find your writings though to be very thoughtful and full of honesty, so I'll try to trust your judgement, thank you.

I guess it doesn't matter what the diagnosis is if we go forward dealing respectfully with the behaviors. We can love people, and not accept their manipulations. Good people will learn and grow from seeing how we react to them while narcissists will decide we're not worth their time if we don't allow them to manipulate us.

I really agree with this for multiple reasons. Not only is it the easiest way to see if a person is worth our friendship, if they are able to grow from us sharing how we feel, but it's also the most efficient. Of course doing this is much easier said than done.

I been spend alot of mental energy trying to sus out how people may react to me sharing my feelings, combing over previous exchanges, questioning my own behavior, asking if my feelings are really worth sharing etc. I am geared towards thinking it's not safe or that my feelings are probably wrong. I conclude the relationship may be better suited to surface level only. While this does protect me from those who would respond poorly to genuine discussions of feelings, it also isolates me from those who would be receptive.

I recently expressed myself to my friend and found her receptive, though its seemed like certain word choice brought up more heightened responses than others. I gave a much more indirect explanation of what I was feeling but I think conveyed how I felt and why. Which I'll consider a movement in the right direction. 

I've found it useful to have the short term solutions implemented as a safety net, then if we start to feel an EF we can utilize the tools. The door lock for example has been really nice for me to just know I have, I rarely use it, but when I am feeling overwhelmed I am reminded I could close and lock my door and be undeniably safe. I physically feel myself relax when I do it.

How I feel selfish for wanting to have my own stuff/area that nobody touches or enters. Ever, unless they specifically ask.

Maybe giving the inner child the 'petty' things they demand will help them see that they no longer have to worry about them being taken away, that they are safe now to ask for what they need.

Sometimes short term solutions can help us feel safe enough to be able to look at the bigger picture, which like you said is to feel safe in yourself.

Phoebes, What you're going through sounds very difficult, not knowing which way to look or to believe when trying to understand your own behavior. I relate to the feeling of trying to get to the bottom of my behaviors and being unsure of what to believe. And the horror thinking I might have more in common with my abusers than I'd like.

I think that cptsd survivors are often susceptible to self deceptions, or rather our perceptions have previously been so manipulated that it seems difficult for us to pin down a 'truth', or at least for me it is. I wonder if it's 'fleas' or is it a pd, it's difficult to parse through what has been put onto us and what is a part of us.

When I read Understanding The Borderline Mother I immediately diagnosed myself as a Hermit Narcissist of the highest order. It took my therapist a while to talk me down from that one.

I have been struggling with this idea of labels recently too, I too have brought pd diagnoses to my therapist in worry that 'this might be what's wrong with me', though she says I don't fit she also asks what it is I would get out of having a diagnosis. I find I look at diagnoses like a hypochondriac, I read even a slight similarity in my own behavior and I start to panic, thinking oh no that's me, I am a manipulative monster who has no empathy.

Maybe it's just another way of catastrophizing, or a form of hypervigilance, assuming the worst of ourselves. Perhaps the only sure way to address our problems is to reflect and analyze or try to understand them as they arise. While a diagnosis is a valuable tool, the right one doesn't always exist or isn't always available.
Easier said than done though.