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I started a new form of therapy last week. The therapist spoke of working with my 'different parts'. I finally was able to cry and feel emotions, I've been feeling numb and like an automaton recently.
She explained how previous therapy may not have touched the constant nightmares. That traditional therapy not be able to. That nightmares can be one of my 'parts' spilling over into my sleep.
I immediately felt resonance with what she was saying. I have a strong feeling this is the right modality of therapy for me.
It was interesting the next day..
I had brunch scheduled with some girls I met in the past few years. Instead of doing my usual 'put on a mask, give no real authentic insight into myself and just prioritize others comfort and listen to THEM, I had the urge to try remain loyal to my own authentic self, in that moment. I noticed space was given to the 2 more extroverted members of the group; they spoke of their troubles and their successes recently, and I tried my best to listen and be supportive and celebratory. Then I noticed...there were no questions in return. No inquiring or active open dialogue for ME. Instead of ignoring myself, I listened to what it felt like in my body. And it felt horrible. Like I was willingly participating in the narrative I grew up: passive relaying of a message that others are MUCH more important and 'valid' than me. I felt quite unhappy and upset, actually. I waited until I was one to one with one of them, who I know a bit better, and I 'unmasked' and said a little bit of my truth. That actually, I had been struggling and I wasn't sure how to also speak up and not just go along with the group chat to focus on others and not to take up space. i was hoping she would inquire more and show some maybe concern but she went quiet. The silence really felt like a horrific trigger and...i.dont know, it felt like a mortifying expression of 'downgrading me back into my place' when compared to just earlier, the time, space and effort put into supporting her and the other girl was quite substantive. My system immediately shut down and I have been alternating between dissociating and feeling like I am about to have a panic attack. Bad dreams woke me up, and the morning today was extremely distressing. I couldn't do anything for hours and finally dragged myself out for a walk with my partner which eventually helped shift a bit of the bad energy.
The experience yesterday has given me some valuable information, I think. Most importantly: how willingly and voluntarily I neglect myself and participate in dynamics whereby others also (inadvertently or not) do the same. And I don't want that anymore.
I am worth just as much as the other 2 girls who had space, kindness, acceptance, concern and freedom to be authentic and receive connection freely.
I will not trade in my authenticity for connection. What sort of connection is that? And I believe doing that makes you sick, over time. I will not disconnect from myself, for the comfort of others.
I am somewhat hurt and angry that concern wasn't given in return for me.
I'm not sure whether I should communicate it or not. I don't want to risk being gaslit or an argument.

I switched to my laptop to continue typing because *finally* I have tapped into my feelings and now have the urge to type in more detail.
Where was I? Ah, yes. Moving and change. How it can really scramble us up. I was talking about how it took me a long time to make my old area feel 'safe' and like 'home'. I feel warm and fuzzy when I think about it. It sheltered me and gave me a safe, calm environment in which to bring my pain.
However, it did come with some problems. It is in an area where planes fly low, as it is close to a major airport. The noise of the aircrafts at times, were really antagonizing. Especially when you already have sleep issues and dysregulation and all of that.
Then, for 6 months of last year, the tenant in the flat downstairs of my block decided to renovate - and it was 6monthhs of DAILY DRILLING and banging and sawing. Noise aggravates my tense nervous system like that. Especially what I call 'obnoxious' sounds - like those of electric drills and saws. I just about got through those 6 months but not unaffected.
The other thing with noise in that flat was that it was on a somewhat main road which had potholes and the cars whooshing past were so loud and made my floors and furniture shake and vibrate. And it was a tad expensive.
And it was a rather small flat. So, with all this in mind, we decided we would move somewhere quieter, bigger and a bit cheaper.
We searched for homes within commuting distance of my partner and my place of work. We found an area we liked that would take me roughly one hour to get to work. It was still somewhat doable to get in and out of the major city, but definitely 'out' of it and more surburban. For some reason, in my bubble of love, I completely forgot about how moving to completely new areas triggers me so badly. And this new area was VERY unfamiliar. It was TOO quiet. We didn't know anybody there. And the houses in surburban areas can really be a triggering factor...there is something about the quiet, big, lovely houses that I spent some of my childhood in, juxtaposed against the awful, neglectful, damaging abuse that I experienced that makes me feel incredibly alone and sad.
So, I started to spiral. I missed living IN the big city I lived in before, with all its constant activity, and where I had friends and places of familiarity. I tried to sit tight and make it work and build new safety. Then, we found out we were pregnant. It wasn't intended and a complete surprise, but as we both always wanted kids, it was also a bit of joy.
Sadly, though, as the weeks went on, the mix of hormones and anxiety over being a new mum and being in an unfamiliar home took a huge toll on me. The CPTSD came roaring back with massive vigour. I had access to brilliant psychological services in the new area, at least, and the psychologist explained to me that moving house, being newly pregnant and CPTSD were the perfect storm. She encouraged me to spend time in my old area if possible, for the feeling of familiarity and safety. And that if it was possible, moving back would be a perfectly acceptable thing to do if that's what it took to make me feel safe and grounded.
This was an incredibly taxing time for my partner, who says he often felt helpless and fearful for me, watching me go through this and feeling like he couldn't do anything to physically take some of the pregnancy burdens away from me. We both stressed so much about the future, and how to get out of our new rental contract without penalty.
Somehow, the stars were aligned in our favour, and when we explained our situation to our letting agent, they came back to us and told us our landlord said he is happy for us to exit our contract with no penalty fees. (Sometimes, life can give you the glimmers you so badly need).
I began to feel better, knowing I'd be going 'home' and tried to calm my anxiety over the pregnancy.
We booked in our first scan. I was excited, and felt it would become more 'real' to see out baby on a scan. We made our way over, and I remember texting someone beforehand that we were going to the clinic.
Somehow, the next moments were a blur. One minute we were inside the room, waiting in trepidation to hear news about the progress of the baby, and the next....we were together in a quiet separate room, crying in each other's arms after being told there was no heartbeat. It was devastating. I was told I'd had a silent miscarriage. In all my anxiety and CPTSD flare-up...I hadn't realised - until I heard the words from the sonographer that the baby (foetus? embryo?) did not have a heartbeat, and had likely stopped having a heartbeat 3 days prior - how much I had, on some level beneath the mental health symptoms, wanted the baby.
We cried our way through the next few days, as we navigated attending hospital appointments for the next steps on miscarriage management.
Our friends showed up for us in abundance. I had never before seen such strength of force in support of my experiencing an adverse event. I was stunned at how much strength and comfort you can derive from others in times of distress - as many of us on here know, that is not often the experience you have in childhood when you have CPTSD - there is no template to let you know this is what CAN happen.
We were able to process it and get through it so much better than what I had experienced of surviving difficult situations previously.
And then, we took affirmative steps and looked for a new home. Close to my old flat, but not in the exact same neighbourhood to avoid the aircraft noise and the noise from the main road.
We found a beautiful little flat, with a gorgeous small balcony (I now have a balcony!! Ahhh!! I can drink coffee and sit and watch the beautiful gardens underneath!!) in a building complex that is friendly and had on-site management (makes me feel extra safe). We are close to my old neighbourhood, work is only 20 minutes away, and I feel very lucky and grateful for this.
And yet....emotionally.....I guess it would make sense that I am playing catch up. I have been working quite a lot over the past few weeks, and haven't had a lot of time to process everything else except the miscarriage. I've got quite a lot of intrusive thoughts and feelings and emotional flashbacks.
When I stop doing things and stop being busy, I feel....a bit lost. A bit empty. Sometimes angry. Lacking confidence. I've put on weight through comfort eating and I can't fit into my clothes. Old creeping inner critic thoughts have reignited. That I am ugly, unloveable, not normal, undeserving. Constant thoughts of comparisons taunt me. That I am not as accomplished in my career, that I don't earn enough money, that I am ugly, unfit, chubby. That I am undisciplined, that I had an abnormal childhood therefore who do I think I am to want to aspire more? 'Who are you kidding, get back in your place!' is a big one.
And the biggest thing of all that affects me - I feel often disconnected from my surroundings and my passions. It feels like a while since I've felt connected with myself. Those 6 months of daily noise from the renovation drove me to despair, then moving into the surburban house pushed me into a depressive hole. I didn't write, I didn't cook or bake, I didn't exercise, I just.....sat on the sofa all day and tried desperately to drown out my anxiety and depression by watching TV.
Now that I've come out of all of this, I feel a bit at a loss.
Maybe I should try taking baby steps. I went out for a walk today. It was frustrating cus I know this area well and I remember a time when a walk in this area would feel great. But I felt so disconnected. Like all I know how to do is distract myself with television. Like I've forgotten how to be in and with the outside world again.

I did cook yesterday though, for the first time in ages. Its funny isn't it, how even simple things like cooking can feel weird and foreign when you haven't wanted to do them for so long....again, I remembered a time when cooking would give me joy and happiness.
Maybe I'll get back there with that, too.

For now, I feel burnt out. Happy to have made it out of the last chapter, but still in a zone of...'what just happened?'. I've been sleeping...a LOT. Like my brain needs it desperately. Maybe the rest and recuperation will slowly bring me back. I hope.

So, a lot has happened over the last 6 months or so. My head is still trying to process everything so I thought I'd come on here and write it all out, to perhaps try to consolidate it all.
We - my partner and I (did I update this blog at all that I met my now partner a year ago? And that he is sweet and kind? Yes, ladies and gentlemen, it finally happened for me - I broke our of my old rubbish dating habits and gave one of the good ones a chance and finally in a loving relationship!) moved twice over the past of 5 months.
Let me backtrack a bit. My old tenancy was coming to an end. The relationship had been going pretty well, and he didn't want to stay in his old place sharing with someone he didn't particularly like living with, so we looked into joining forces and move in together.
The city I live in is pretty expensive and we were spending all our time together anyway so it made sense.
I loved my old flat; I spent 3 years making the area 'home' and 'safe. I still remember when I first moved in there - and I don't know about all of you but moving and change has been a huge trigger for me in the past. It takes a heck of a lot of effort and time to make somewhere 'familiar' and 'home' to me. I'm sure that's not just a CPTSD thing, seems like it would be a regular thing for most humans when uprooted.

Oh my goodness, this is so helpful. Thank you for your kind words. This sounds like such a powerful strategy, and I am inspired to try it! Thank you!!

You're in a profession too that breeds that type of self-criticism. Add in cptsd and ouch!

I don't know if this will help you...what I noticed to be true for myself was that the barrage of self-criticism and flat out hate would come when there was something else upsetting happening that would be harder to look at and deal with so the barrage of hate toward myself was this blaring distraction from whatever thought/feeling/situation I was unintentionally avoiding.

For me it was a very slow process of breaking down that cycle but how I did it just sort of evolved naturally. The first step  was just noticing the criticism to start with because for me and maybe you it just played in the background constantly I didn't even know it was normal to walk around without that horrible stuff in your head. It was just white noise.

After that step I started to notice sooner when it would start so that I could catch it at the beginning of the barrage.

Once I was noticing when it started then I started to wonder "now wait, I was just walking down the street feeling good and all the sudden I am hearing these voices about how stupid ugly disgusting and bad I am. What happened to make me feel that way just now?"

Then I started to be able to trace back in my mind and realize that something difficult had popped up in my mind and that these negative thoughts about myself were a massive distraction from the other difficult thing.

THEN I could start to push through the negative thoughts toward myself and pay attention to the trigger underneath them. "Oh. I'm not really a bad horrible human who's stupid and disgusting; I was thinking about my mom and that's so hard to deal with, let me go back to trying to pay attention to those feelings instead."

Or I became more aware of trauma triggers too. So being in a grocery store and someone would come close to me all the sudden I felt incredibly disgusting and gross and  completely overwhelmed with how everyone would know how disgusting I was and I'd need to get out of there and go wash myself in the store bathroom.

I TRULY THOUGHT I was disgusting and had to save people the horror of being near me. I thought that was why those thoughts were there....because they were true. But eventually I learned "ah: I was triggered. This is a trigger and I am having an emotional flashback to when I felt that way. It isn't that I AM disgusting, it's that I am remembering feeling that way and because hey because it's a flashback it feels like that is NOW, but it's the past."

All a very long way of saying...those negative thoughts are either a distraction from something else that is bothering you - smoke bomb! - or the symptoms of a flashback that feels like it is happening NOW. Get to the bottom of it and those voices will eventually soften and then eventually go away. Not quickly, but there's relief to be had.

I wish you luck in getting to the bottom of your relentless inner critic so you can have some peace. I guarantee you are not those horrible things. You're pretty amazing to be able to push through the things that happened to you and to make it in this intense intense field.   

Awww I've only just got around to checking this site again and thank you all so much!!! Your words have lightened me so much, on a day where it is so needed!

My inner critic has gone berserk the past few months.
It's urging me more and more to consider that I am a useless waste of space.
I feel embarrassed by myself. I feel like a let down, a loser and a reject and that I deserve all of these things.
How to quieten this down?
I'm at my wit's end.

I feel detached from myself a lot these days. I'm numb and overwhelmed and scared.
And in deep, deep grief.
I can't even see how I will get out of this and feel better?

I wonder if this is some sort of 'legitimate' stage in the healing...I've recently been feeling extremely shocked and disturbed by the unspoken rules and dynamics at home that governed my childhood.
Being around abusers - siblings and mother - and being forced into cognitive dissonance. Not even knowing the harm they are doing has a name or that it is illegal or wrong, and then at the same time being forced to live a life where by they are 'mum' and 'sister' and 'brother' even though they behaved nothing like these roles at all.
It's making me feeling rageful and shocked to think of this.
Years of being bullied by them AND at the same time, somehow behaving as though they were just family members and all this is just normal.
It's so messed up, it makes me mind hurt.
It's so hard to get healthier now ..to have a healthy relationship and healthier friendships where all it seems to do at times is shine a light on just how abnormal the 'rules of engagement' were, growing up.
It scares me to think I likely did have lots of disruptions to my development. And what this means in practice. And...can you catch up? Can you 'resume' the development growth?
I can't believe my development was stunted so much....it just keeps shocking me that I lived with essentially abusers and bullies until around 16-18 and somehow was conditioned and groomed into accepting all of it as normal.
What on earth did that do to my development?
To blame myself for bad behaviour?
To be unable to see bad behaviour from others in real time because bad behaviour doesn't get called out and there is no right to object against it and somehow I ended up fawning to try to make the situation better.
Fawning with my abusers...the thought makes me sick now. Eww. Trying to placate and look after their needs and put them above my own when they didn't give one shred of care - in fact, they were more than happy to actively be harmful.

It makes me feel extremely sickened and disturbed. Like I want to shake this off and put of my system.
It's repulsive.
Has anyone experienced something similar?

I'm not sleeping well, again.
My dreams consist of movie-like sequences, of people from the past, desperate states from childhood, and unresolved feelings.
There are so many of them and they feel so heavy, it's so hard.
Today I was incapacitated by them. When I first woke up. I felt such a heavy depressive sensation.
It took me a while to go have a shower, and then I was so exhausted from trying to hold on, I fell asleep on the sofa and had a broken sleep for 3 hours.

I'm not quite sure what to do with myself today.
Stuck in some limbo state between exhaustion and thick anxiety. I feel helpless. Like this will never get better.

I feel such despair that my life keeps playing out in cycles like this.
And how it all makes sense, this is how the people around me made me live until the age of 18.
I still remember when I was a child, confused and unhappy, wondering why I only sometimes felt okay and free and even like I could have fun ....and then all this coming to a complete end when my father passed and my NPD mum took full control.
She scowled on fun, on feelings, on needs, on anything that took the attention away from her.
I can't even think about it too much without feeling sick.
I feel like I am in shock.
Shock at the realisations of what I lived with for so long.
That life was just depression, anxiety, fear, very disturbed sense of self since I was young. And that this woman, this 'mother' did all of that.
It makes me feel sick to my stomach. I have such feelings of anger and frustration at her, and the situation.
My life could have been so different, just less torturous. Without these constant sleep issues.
I feel so helpless about the future. How will the sun ever really shine again when even when it does, I can't see or feel it? And can you really reclaim yourself after you have been spiritually robbed?
I don't know.

I don't know how to look after myself today. My partner has been looking after me and I am worrying I am putting a lot on him. He is sleeping right now, on the sofa.
The cat is curled up on the sofa next to his.
With a cosy lamp on.
I'm looking at them thinking how much the real me, under all of this darkness, would love such a scene. And remembering a time when such a scene would bring me joy and comfort. And yet I feel nothing besides despair.
I just feel sad.

Hey holidayay,

In my experience growing up in a NPD household, I was constantly "not good enough," which I even probably started feeling from an age I don't even remember. Comparing myself to other people and how if I could only have x, or look like x, or not do x, was a way try and get the love/acceptance etc that I never received growing up. Perhaps this internal compass of feeling less than is still active in your subconscious?

Sending you support,
dolly

I resonate so much with this. And your astute observation that it's still active in my subconscious. It absolutely is    I find I still have to actively convince myself I am just as deserving as others and it's okay to just be me. It's very hard to remember this all the time, especially when I'm stressed.
Hope you have been keeping well.

I've just woken up from dreams where I was watching people from my old and present life going to an old school friend's birthday party, evolving, growing up and I was excluded and I felt so, so distressed. The feelings have carried on with me now and I feel distraught, somehow?
My heart is pounding so hard and I feel really distressed. Why would such a dream cause such a huge reaction? And how do I calm down?

Thank you Dolly. I really appreciated your kind message. I understand the fear of been seen and humiliated. It's startling to read someone who posted such a kind, thoughtful message, feels that. I suppose because to me it feels like you sound like a warm person and don't deserve to feel that way at all. I guess that's with most of us on here.

People do keep saying the healing is happening. And I guess I can see it. It just....seems to get deeper the more layers I go through and the innermost ones hurt so bad....but I will continue.

Today was a win. I woke up from bad dreams, decided to take on some of the things I've learnt and not to sit in bed and wallow. Accept that the dreams are my subconscious trying to process things and leave it be. So I got up, stroked the cat, brushed my teeth and went to the gym. I had a really invigorating workout.
Then I came home and did therapy - EMDR via Zoom.
Stuff came up that I didn't expect and then I cried and it felt like it was released. I've felt tired and worn out since, which is to be expected.

So I'm sitting watching Monster In Law for an easy watch, whilst my boyfriend is out for dinner. He gives the best hugs though, so I'm excited for him to come home.

Also, just realised I think I posted about my cat when I first got her as a kitten on her? Wow...the time has flown and so much has changed. She is now 4 and a half and is a big, fluffy, cuddling furball!

I'm back here again. It's been 9 months since I wrote in here.
A lot has happened since.
Some good.
The best of all: I met my now boyfriend not long after I last posted here. An incredibly kind, loving man. He makes me feel loved and cherished and valued. And most importantly of all: safe.
And with that, came its own challenges. First, how to learn to trust in safety with another, in an intimate relationship.
Then, how to let him in.
Slow and steady really was the best way, in this case.

I found newer depths that needed healing, that comes with this new experience. Firstly, the disparity between healthy love and care, and what I received at home. The gap is highlighted, so blaringly, when you have something in real time to contrast it against.
It has made me feel sick and horrified and traumatised all over again. Knowing just how abnormal it is and just so far removed from how more healthy people treat people they love.
It made me realise: I didn't have a single person growing up, with whom I felt safe with. Safe to express my feelings and needs.
There were obviously 'dangerous' people then there the less obvious, but for whatever reason, still unsafe. Maybe partly because I had learnt too strongly from early on 'people' aren't safe, so I stopped trying. Or maybe everyone else around me was also damaged and traumatised, too much so to be able to offer anything safe.
It's a horrible, sobering realisation.
My brother who everyone generally said was my 'special connection' - not really. I was both scared of him and felt like I had to look after him and somehow take care of his comfort. He was volatile to people around me. Sometimes he also lost his temper with me. Never hit me, but had extremely short fuse that had me always anxious about when he made pop off.
It was all fake. A fake pretense that we had a special bond. Because we looked alike and supposedly he was fond of me.
I didn't feel fond of him. I felt like I had to be, to show it, and to convince myself of it.
I didn't feel safe with him.
I felt scared and anxious around him and FOR him. And I felt incredibly sad for him. Sad for his depressive episodes, for his painful anger, for his distress.
He died aged only 25 and I was 16. I cried endlessly in the 19 years since. Not because of his death, but because of his life. His suffering.
His suffering that was as valid as mine. That prevented us from having the bond we could have had. That prevented him from being able to exist beyond his crushing suffering.
I don't know really why I am saying all this.
I feel like I am grieving. Not as I said, because he died, but because he never really lived.

Keep waking up throughout the night, feeling distressed and remembering different things.
My poor mind feels like it doesn't know where to start, in trying to work through the flashbacks and emotions.

Yesterday night, I kept waking up and remembering my older siblings. Siblings I found terrifying when I was little. In my family, everyone was always trying to get their needs met. It felt like because you couldn't meet them by turning to those older than you, or our actual caregivers, then they would turn on those younger than them, who were vulnerable and easier to scare into submission.
Home felt like where my bullies resided.
I was particularly affected by how they mocked me and sneered at me. And how they spoke constantly of themselves: of all the horrible things they would do such as getting into fights and harming people who they felt wronged them. My brother in particular was grotesque with his details. I would feel so pained for the people he hurt. He seemed to feel it was something to brag about, as though it made him cool or masculine.
I thought it made him seem monstrous.
I didn't want to hear the stories. I already felt terrified and anxious from my mum and other siblings. Hearing these stories of wannabe-gangster type behaviour would push me into the brink. Just leave me alone, I wanted to say.
As I grew up, I assumed some sort of role of listener and comforter/advice giver even though I really felt so drained and traumatised. It felt like the only way to have some sort of control in the situation, to commandeer it into some way of normality.
I feel sick remembering this.
It's like being given no choice. Crossing a young child's boundaries so often, and then the child grows up to believe they should fawn over you and look after YOU.
I am so angry at this.
It sickens me so much.
The very people who hurt me, stressed me out, I was then growing up to placate them and listen to them and become more traumatised hearing their insane stories and being expected to be a dutiful audience?
Laugh when they expect you to laugh.
Call them cool and interesting when they expected that.
Give them comfort and advice and soothe them when they expected that.
It makes me think everyone in the family had their needs so poorly recognised and met, that they went about it in disorganised and nonsensical means of getting them met. Who turns to a young sibling, 8 years younger, to tell them their problems and insane stories of violence and hatred, in order to get kindness and care from this child?
It was all so topsy-turvy.
Mum was too self-centred to do any of that. Even if she wasn't, she didn't have the skills anyway. She didn't seem to think like an adult. She seemed distant and full of hatred herself.

What a mess. How do I untangle this sorry unprocessed messy chapter of my life and let it leave me be?
I can still feel the fear and confusion and anxiety and sadness and helplessness that I felt all those years ago, in the pit of my stomach.

I guess I will bring it to therapy this week. I have an appointment in 2 days time.
First, today, I have to get through a work shift starting soon.
I thought I'd post some of my thoughts on here before getting up, to try to release some of these heavy emotions that wrecked havoc on my sleep yesterday.

Thanks Papa Coco.
It's been a while since I checked in here.

Happy new year to all.

I'm hoping for a steadier 2024. My only wish for this year is to get further back in alignment with my real self.
I wish I could say I have made massive leaps and bounds in this aspect. I haven't. I feel more disconnected than ever.
I don't enjoy much these days. My false self has well and truly fully shattered. There's not really anything left of it. And with it, has gone all the false fragments of identity I'd pieced together that were mostly in the interests of placating others.
I don't care for that anymore. I thought it would be liberating. It isn't. It has just scraped away to leave the full nothing that was underneath it, the very nothing that I always tried to avoid.
It's desperately terrifying.
Today all I could do was cry and feel sad. Again and again, the waves washed over me.
What's next from here? Where will my soul end up?
Because I'm skeptical I can live a life like this.