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Holidayay, I can relate to pretty much all of what you've said, and am going through a similar situation; the cognitive dissonance (mismatch of feeling FOO is supportive and loving with memories of their terrible behavior), having to lie about family and be rewarded for it as "good", "loving", etc, feeling alone despite connecting with others, and anxiety being tenfold; I recently had an incident with my own sister, and since then trying to talk to anyone - including "proven safe" people - has felt exactly like trying to pull a dog who doesn't want to walk and is pulling backwards.

I'm in a somewhat similar situation in that I have a younger stepsister who is showing symptoms I have of being in an abusive family, and I feel like I should do something to prevent this cycle continuing, yet am legally helpless. Though I can't speak on what would help with your niece, I do find some solace in knowing that there are many others who can help her; the fact there's a case and social worker on it gives her a strong chance at getting out. And there are many people who do grow up in hardship who are successful later in life; Kelly Clarkson, Will Smith. Even more start out in similar lives and are adopted into loving families.

Ultimately, I agree with the other posters; self-care first. Any little bit you can do, even if it's getting up to get a glass of water. I can say from experience it does get better, and personally recommend cutting contact with abusive family as much as you can; maybe find some local support groups like NAMI, where you can be around others in similar situations. You've got friends you're staying with, and that's really good; you're prioritizing health, which is worth its weight in gold.

I can't tell you how you'll get through it, except one day at a time. Often, one hour or minute at a time. But I'm very certain you'll be able to get through it nonetheless.

Orion-
Thank you for your post. While I can't speak much on coming to accept it yet (my diagnosis and discovery of having CPTSD and not "just anxiety and depression" is only a few months old), it has been something that I've been struggling with especially lately. Specifically, accepting that there is anything wrong at all, and not just something temporary that will pass soon. I can relate to worrying that I should warn people about it, but my mindset has shifted somewhat to a lighter note; a more matter-of-fact "this is what I deal with, I'm working on managing it, but it's something that is part of my world and is important for you to know if you want to be part of it". So far I find that a decent amount of people are understanding (but may need to be educated) about it. The thing about it is, in this day and age, a lot more people deal with triggers and things like anxiety than is outright spoken. It's a fairly common thing.

At the beginning of this year, my mind was caustic. It felt like every moment of every day, there was nothing but hatred and deeply ingrained flaws and self-destruction. I wouldn't have even been able to type this, acknowledging it, because I would have been emotionally internally flogged for it. And it felt indescribably, absolutely and undoubtedly, permanent in how it would always be that way.

These days, I find a lot of hostility inside still. But I also find moments of light and love, the kind that I had always dreamt of having someone else give me, coming from my own heart and self. I feel like the person I was before abuse - the child I have memories of and have spent my life trying to return to, one of freedom and confidence and never doubting worth - for longer and longer moments. At the start of my recovery, I could only access this for a fragment of a second maybe once a month if I was lucky. Now it can last ten minutes or so, and a milder version - one of acceptance, hope, and what I feel a lot of us refer to as "normal" often bubbles up. Spontaneity, playfulness, hope. It isn't permanent, and progress has been very slow, but it is getting better, even when I feel like I'm messing things up and undoing progress. A lot of the hostility has softened somewhat, more like advanced agitation, and there is often a kind of internal hesitation instead of automatic self-attack.

I do feel most of the time that everything and everyone is out to get me (hypervigilance), but it has made a world of difference to envision this symptom as a person within myself who gets scared and takes over. I have a name for him, he has his own look and preferences, and I talk to him as a person, and that helps me remember that he is not me. I do this for all my symptoms (it's a therapy modality called Internal Family Systems), and it's enough to help me remember and experience myself as not being CPTSD, but someone who struggles with it. It's the difference between being A Crippled Person and a person whose legs no longer work. A subtle but life-changing difference. Talking to him this way and reassuring him in a non-denial way tends to help me see things more realistically; like maybe the cashier at Safeway isn't going to kill me. It's still a knee-jerk reaction, but each day with practice I'm getting better at catching it more, catching it faster, remembering it's a flashback (which often is enough to "break" the hold flashbacks have and restore my memory as an adult person), and recovering, as well as being triggered less often altogether.

It may not be curable, but as time goes on and the subtleties become more familiar (like what triggers you and what you can expect to feel when it does), it does become significantly less of an issue. It's like moving to a new place; at first everything is new, you don't know where anything is, sounds are unexpected and weird and overwhelming, but after a while you learn where to find things, what sounds are normal and when, how things work, and eventually everything in it is comfortably familiar. It can also be analogous to inheriting a large garden of unknown plants with no instructions; at first it's a lot, you don't know which is what or what to do, some plants are withering and dying, others are overgrowing. But over time, through trial and error and snippets of advice from other gardeners, you learn what kind of sun each plant needs, when to water certain ones, when certain ones flower, what fruit they produce and when, and eventually you know how to navigate problems, properly nurture each plant, and things go much more smoothly.

At the risk of sounding cliche; it gets better. Even if it feels like it absolutely without a doubt for sure won't, or that you're somehow the exception. I know it's true because I'm experiencing it, even though I was the one who believed wholeheartedly that literally everyone else had that certain something that made improvement possible for them but not me. You're trying, and the trying alone makes a massive difference. And as time goes on, the silver lining will start to come out; lately I've been learning how my hypervigilance - noticing tiny little otherwise-insignificant details - also means I am acutely aware and able to appreciate subtleties in art and music, which allows me to experience them much more richly. I'm sure they're there for you too, and am confident you can find a way to harmonize with what's going on.

Thank you everyone, for all your replies. They've been helpful, and I've thought about them over the past couple days. I've started looking for PTSD or specific-trauma groups, with mixed success (most are either far away or on working days/times), but I'm sure they're out there. I'm in a major enough city I figure there must be one out there. Jazzy, you mentioned asking T about resources, that's a good idea I hadn't thought of. I've been wanting to go to a group for a while. Jazzy, I'm not familiar with the journaling on this site. Is it a publicly-posted/commented place on your profile where you just write stuff?
Kizzie, I'll try out 7Cups when I am not in a great place, thank you for linking me to that. An issue I'd had before is the other hotlines I know of are for more... critical... moments, rather than just needing to talk.
Gromit, I'll look into the ACOA meetings, I hadn't thought of that, and it looks like there are some in my area.
Notalone and Saylor, thank you for sharing. Your stories are helpful, and I appreciate you taking the time to be open and accepting about all of it.

Hello everyone. Lately I've been processing and investigating a lot of stuff about my past, and I find that I want to talk to someone about it. Specifically, there's a lot that builds up, discoveries made, frustrations, loneliness, and I feel like I'd like to just vent and rant about all of it; but, then I feel an anxiety that most people don't want to hear it, others would exploit it, others would criticize it, or it would damage what few meaningful relationships I have. As far as my therapist goes, I only see her for an hour every two weeks, and most of the time we're processing something; it isn't enough to fully vent everything I want to say. As far as this forum goes I worry that I would be too much, and I'm still dealing with the diagnosis being new and an imposter syndrome. By the end of catastrophizing all the reasons I can't share, I end up giving up on the idea altogether, until it reaches a critical point and I vent parts at my friend, then proceed to feel ashamed at being so "overdramatic" and an "attention whore" (inner critic words, not his). On occasion I have the time and focus to journal, which does help, but doesn't do much to help the feeling that I can't talk to others. I have theories about where this issue comes from, but I'd like to hear what advice or insight any of you have.

Thank you for clarifying. I don't believe my mom has NPD, but there's a strong my chance my dad does, and her depression was largely in correlation to that. And yes, with her improvement there has been a lot of relief and some reconciliation, though it's where the dissonance comes from; kind of a blending of experience of comprehending the past as bad as it was, with trying to have a relationship with her in her more respectful present state.

Thank you for your responses. I'm still processing that trauma can still happen without (as much) direct intention, but your words help me accept it a little easier. I think with time things will get clearer and make more sense.

Kizzie, it's sort of bittersweet to hear you say you've struggled with it for so long; I often find myself expecting that healing means completely "getting over" it and not being dissonant ever again, so to know that it may not happen like that takes the pressure off. I'm hoping that there's a way to at least live somewhat peaceably with the memories at least, and not so controlled by them.

I'm glad it has been relatable; I find I sometimes forget others do these things too. What ended up helping me most with figuring out what to discard was a book called The Magic of Tidying Up, by Marie Kondo, which approaches discarding not from "what can I get rid of" but "does this spark joy?" and if it does, keeping it. It focuses instead on surrounding yourself by what is most treasured, rather than hard amounts, and I've found it made a huge difference in my ability to not only downsize, but be more mindful both of what I have, and when I'm shopping. It may be worth a try.

Hoo boy do I have experience with this, for a multitude of reasons. Overall I say that at least in my case, it's definitely related to the past.

One reason I used to hoard was we didn't have a lot of money, so when I got new things (this was when I was still a kid), they were precious. I recall holding onto a tiny valentines box of chocolate once; it was empty, but the smell of it was apparently enough reason to keep it for something like a year. There was also a very strong sense that we were barely scraping by (we were) and that food and other things were in very limited supply and may not be available in the future; people and animals both tend to hoard resources in this situation, instinctively. Hand-in-hand with this is that at this point my access to meaningful human interaction was, at best, also very limited; we were very rural and I had given up asking to have friends over, so food and stuff was my way of cheering myself up and distracting from loneliness. Stuffed animals and toys were the friends that always there, always accepting and nice (not critical or judgy), and never leaving or rejecting.

A little later I hoarded sentiments; birthday and holiday cards, childhood memorabilia/toys, etc, and the thought of getting rid of them (especially the cards and toys) brought a crushing sense  of guilt, like I was spitting on the sentiments and abandoning the stuffed animals. I fully felt that the stuffed animals had feelings (I sort of blame Toy Story, half-jokingly) that would be crushed if I threw them away, and I couldn't bear the thought of doing that to something I loved. I've heard this phenomenon often happens to others who hoard. I believe this was also due to being blamed and guilted for others' unpleasant emotions which got transferred onto the toys.

More recently, I've found myself shopping almost daily; very little things, $5-10 a day maybe, but slowly creeping upward. Mostly food, snacks, but also other things that catch my attention; I recently wanted a snake, and when I discovered that, I needed it RIGHT NOW. When my headphones died, I decided to try a Bluetooth pair, and I needed it RIGHT NOW. Not even Amazon Prime's 2-day shipping seemed good enough. Things like food and snacks mostly come up when I'm agitated, since food was my first self-soothing practice; I'll find myself suddenly craving a Starbucks drink after a perceived criticism, for example. Or wanting to buy things (kind of anything) when in a long-drawn-out flashback, just to break the discomfort, because I had never been taught how to actually manage difficult emotions by my parents.

What I've learned is that for me hoarding is about trying to have a sense that I can have stability in my environment, and be surrounded by "loving" things (and/or actually-loving things, like pets) that won't be abusive or leave. I could lose my human friends to moving-away, but knew my stuffed animal from 6 years ago would still be there; familiarity outweighed the fact they weren't actually capable of giving a social experience. I was also very good at detaching from the world into fantasy, and having as much stuff around me that reminded me of those worlds kept me there. There was also the distraction; stores are notoriously good at drowning out your own awareness, with all their colors and rushing and ads, which drowns out self-criticism, and making a purchase can bring a rush. In a way, I've also found that there's a sense of proving to myself that I now have enough money to care for myself, which is done less from a loving perspective and more from an afraid one; a way of proving that even if I am abandoned by loved ones, I can still get resources (though I am not dependent on their finances anyway). Lastly, there is a fear that is very common among those who hoard that I have noted in myself, that is relevant to one of the previously-mentioned reasons: I used to be very afraid that if I threw something away - especially anything craft-related - that I would later need it or miss it badly and be completely unable to replace it, left with only a void inside and no means to do anything about it. I'd keep things I didn't even like, "just in case".

Maybe something in there is relevant and insightful to you.

Hello all. I was hoping to get some opinions/suggestions on some cognitive dissonance I've been having lately.
Recently I've begun to comprehend that my childhood was abusive. Specific chunks of it at least; moments that are blatant enough they can't be explained away anymore, especially on my dad side (my parents divorced when I was young, so I sort of feel I have 2 childhoods). That one I can accept.

However, as I explore my memories on my mom side, as well as my years before 6, I hit a couple of walls. For the earlier part, as a very young child pre-divorce, there's a lot of positive and "normal" memories; it's very middle class home, two loving parents, stay-at-home mom, safe friendly neighborhood, golden retriever (very '90s). The problem with this is it doesn't entirely match up with my symptoms, and a couple of little memories, and there's a sense that it's almost... too perfect. But I can't think of anything that stands out as particularly damaging, pre-divorce.

On my mom's side of childhood memories, there's mostly a lot of guilt. Though I remember a very distinct feeling of being alone emotionally and sometimes physically (not to the point of physical neglect, but because we lived very rural, no neighbors or friends), I also have memories of periods of time where there was more casual lightness; like joking and watching tv shows together. I also know that my mom tried her best and was simply overwhelmed with being a single parent of two kids, during the recession, with at least severe depression. There are also a number of memories where she was very comforting, especially in the first couple years after the divorce. The challenge has also been compounded by the fact that recently she and I have spent some time together, and she's made a lot of progress with her own therapy to the point I'd say our relationship is healthy. All those contribute to a sense that it's unfair for me to consider her a neglectful or abusive parent, despite other memories that fall along those lines, and some very distinct periods of time where I felt outright abandoned.

So my questions here are: how do you reconcile being unable to recognize/accept a person as abusive (or previously abusive) with such conflicting memories, especially without delayed resentment affecting the present, and is it even necessary? Or would avoiding labeling it be denial? Any advice/insight would be helpful, and I do recognize the answers of what works are highly individual, so I'm largely looking for what works for you guys. Also, I do intend to bring this issue/dissonance up with my therapist as well.

Thank you for the warmth, everyone. It's funny (/not funny) how things that seem normal and reasonable at the time can be quite the opposite in retrospect.

Thank you for your replies, and helping confirm it. I wasn't certain since it didn't follow the traditional model, but I feel more confident in seeing it for what it is.

Hello all. In wading through the quagmire of memories, I've come across a couple instances that are at least emotionally abusive, but I'm not certain qualify as physical. I'm hoping to see if anyone here may know.

Trigger Warning (I think)
So in my family with my dad and stepmother, it was one of the top themes that being overweight (ie, not stick thin) was unacceptable. Exercise was required when my sister and I went for custody visits, and we often did things like a 7 mile bike ride despite us not being at all prepared for or eased into it, or in shape for it (the rest of the time, with mom, we ate normal American diet and didn't exercise so were chunky). We weren't allowed to dismount our bikes on the hills, and I recall being told "if you can still talk, you aren't going hard enough". Pain was dismissed. We were also required to eat whatever we were given, even though I was made sick by dairy, as my dairy allergy was undiagnosed at the time and therefore "fake". My sister was also required at one point to only eat food from a particular diet plan, though it made her sick from non-allergy causes.

I recognize the emotional abuse aspect of this, but would it qualify as physical abuse as well?

I can relate to this. Recently I moved into an apartment with a roommate who has a dog, and a dog park maybe a third of a mile walk away. When I go I try to go at times there will be less than 5 people: enough for the dog to have others to entertain him, but not so many owners I am likely to be engaged. On some days I'll tolerate small talk (my job has given me enough experience I can do it enough to get by), but generally I lurk in the back or walk around the edges of the park with him. When I really dont want anyone to talk to me I'll use my phone or have headphones. I consider a social success for myself; I'm in proximity to others and can talk to them if I want, but dont have to. Honestly I dont care for small talk with strangers anyway so I usually dont engage.

In Buddhism, its encouraged to face fears. But it's also specifically instructed to do so at a comfortable pace, not forcing it. I've come to see this is beneficial, and make a point not to push myself to go or talk if I'm dreading doing so. It's a bit of a balancing act, but it sounds like you're already making a lot of progress.

Thank you for all the clear and thoughtful replies. I've thought of them the past few days and they've been helpful, if for nothing other than resetting my mind to recognize progress isn't always linear or obvious. I haven't had the chance to talk to my therapist yet (that'll be another week) but have used simpler methods, remembering that it's about the effort rather than precise actions, which has helped. So thank you.

Hello all. Lately (entire past year to be honest, but especially the last couple weeks) I've been struggling with a sense of anxiety and internal pressure to "heal" perfectly. Specifically, using techniques I learned in therapy and practice each day in a manner that is right. Part of it is using flashcards which direct my thinking to a certain thing and then I envision or try to feel warmth towards it. But what has been happening with increasing strength lately is I feel a sense of dread and worry as soon as I pick up the cards; worry that if I don't do it right and perfectly, it'll get worse and worse and eventually undo all the work I've done, backfiring everything and causing more problems than it solves. This compounds when I remember it's supposed to be (more or less) effortless and natural and that stress blocks it.

I often have a sense that I'm subconsciously waiting for some epiphany or life-changing breakthrough to happen in healing and therapy, some undeniable marker that my healing is complete, and that I can relax and be normal again. Or that I'm somehow slowly drifting from a healthy path, despite my efforts and marked progress. There are a million ways to heal, but my mind tends to think that because I still have symptoms, something must not be working right (or I'm not doing it right) and I either need to try much harder or try some other tactic.

Overall it just gets to feel overwhelming, and makes it difficult to enjoy and be optimistic about healing practices. Any advice on handling perfectionism would be appreciated.