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This article: https://www.outofthestorm.website/treatment/

This is only true if you can afford therapy.  My therapist said it can take years.  I told her, 1 year.  Right now therapy takes a full 50% of my income.  I can afford it only because I have lived frugally for years.

A huge number of people -- I think about 95% cannot afford therapy.

Big time need for:

Since parts mediation modalities work best (or only work) when the patient knows what's going on, then either books, handouts or youtube vids to educate people can leave therapists with more time to do therapy.

Group forms of therapy.  Probably work best in medium size groups 5-8 people.

AI to handle some of the routine stages, with alarms to call in a human.  Like chat support lines, one therapist may be multiplied by 3-4 doing this.

Self guided therapy.  Yes this doesn't work well.  But it may work better than drinking yourself to death.

Teaching self awareness and mindfulness to all people at an early age.

I will start off with a timeline of what I know, and what I thiink happened.

What I know:

When my sister was a baby, my mom shook her hard enough that she had injuries detectable by X-ray as an adult.
When she was a young girl (8?) my dad came home to find my mom trying to throw her through the wall.
When I was around age 2 my sister came home from school, and stopped my mother, who was screaming, from throwing me, who was shrieking, against a wall.

At age 3, my behaviour changed.  Before, I had the toddler's usual attitude toward clothing or lack thereof.  After, I had to be fully dressed, including socks.  Even in the house.  Even sleeping.

At age 3, I moved out of the crib upstairs to a second bed in my brother's room, downstairs at the other end of the house.

Age 4: I overhear mom yelling at dad about burning holes in his suit (pipe smoker). Dad goes ashen. Tight lipped.  Says nothing.  My sister says I echoed my father's body language. Even now I cringe watching total strangers yell at each other on TV.  Sister tells me that some kind of yelling match was a weekly or more occurrence.  Mom tells me later that she and Dad had a policy of never argueing in front of the kids.  This conflicts with above.


Age 5:  On a holiday I often had to share a bed with my brother.  I insisted on sleeping above the top sheet, so that, "Our parts won't get mixed up"

Age 6:  I get a birthday party.  About 6 friends come over.  This is the only party I ever had at home, for birthday or any other reason. I went other kids' parties fairly frequently. 

Age 6:  Brother requested, and got a 12 layer birthday cake. I helped mom make it. I didn't twig onto the irony.

Age 6:  I bathe alone now, refusing either parent's assistance.  Sometimes ears are sent back for redo. (May be age 7)

Age 7: Primary caregiver (sister) sent away because she's pregnant. Nothing was said to me.  Sister just vanished.  Parents want to hide scandal.

Age 7: Sis says in  hindsight, I'm dirty, clothing dirty whenever she visits.  House is dirty, cluttered and coated in nicotine. My memory is of weekly bathing.  Saturday night.  I apparently don't mind or don't notice. It still doesn't bother me to wear the same clothing for extended periods of time.

Age 8: Father has colon cancer.  Surgery successful, but becomes more remote. Operation resulted in total erectile dysfunction.  Parents show no physical affection for each other.  Later I found that dad had really liked sex, and touching created the desire, but there was no ability.

Age 12: I get a birthday cake. I think it's the last one. There would still be cake in the house, but not to celebrate my birthday.

Age 12. I get paper route.  Allowance stops. Now responsible for all clothing.  I buy first rate outdoor stuff, and the rest I get at thrift stores.  I deliberately dress in rags to embarrass mom.  Increasingly an outcast at school.  Total geek.  Love science, math. Despise sports, pop music.
Age 13:  I learn to wash my own clothes.   I dress in clean rags.

Age 14: Father has open heart surgery.  He comes home.  His mind, not really. Flee takes over as default behaviour.  I become increasingly feral.

Age 14:  Dad coming home unable to recognize me as often as not made me angry.  In one way it was a message, "You are so unimportant to me that I can't remember your name" But I knew that wasn't true, even at the * age of 14.  But I did wish that he had died in surgery.  Cleaner death. .  Then I would have one parent who would pay attention to me.

Age 15:  Fight back when mom grabs me.  Shocked look on her face.  She never hits or grabs me again.  I think.

Age 15. I get my driver's license.  Swap errands (picking up groceries, etc) in exchange for use of car. 

Age 15:  I cry for the last time I can remember in gr. 10 French class.

Age 15 Spend summer in Peru with scout post. Most parents contributed at least what their son would eat.  I had to pay for the substitute lawn cutting.

Age 16:  Get summer work at university physics department as shop hand.

Age 17: graduate from high school get 1525/1600 on SAT  800/800 on Physics Achievement test.  Not enough to get me into MIT.

Age 17-20.  I pretty much live at the U.  I leave the house before Mom is up, come home for supper, then return to my desk in the Physics storeroom, or to the library until 10 p.m.

Age 21: Father dies.  I don't grieve.
Age 46: Mother dies.  I don't grieve.

Discussions between my sister and mother at a later time was they figured I'd been molested by a neighbour. 

My parents did not tell me of this after I grew up.

My sister says she tried twice to tell me, but I wouldn't hear it.  I don't remember this.

On 15 January 2022 I had a nightmare that left me awake for hours.  Digging into it, I eventually asked my sister if anything odd had happened when I was a kid.  On 28 January her reply mentioned the probable abuse. 

My mother through my childhood had badly controlled diabetes.  When her blood sugar was high, she slept – hibernating bear.  When her blood sugar was low she was irritable – angry bear.  She also suffered from depression, and would spend long period of time drinking coffee and chain smoking at the kitchen table.  I think she like angry as better than depression.  I have no memories of her being more than annoyed.

Deductions:

Age 3: Became 13 yr old brother's meat toy. Butt * or throat * for some unknown number of months. Deduced from reported behaviour changes and opportunity. I was probably told, "don't tell, you'll get in trouble and be punished" I'm left with the whole idea of sex is shameful, disgusting, not to be talked about.  This would mess me up more in puberty.  While sister says neighbour, that neighbour had his own 3 year old.  Didn't need me.  I think it unlikely that I would have been allowed free access to the neighbourhood at that age.  Since I moved into my brother's room (separate bed) at about that time, he had opportunity.  He was 13.  He had motive.
My brother was big in my life.  The best possible big brother.  I worshipped him.  So... his fan by daylight, his toy by night.  Big source of disordered attachment.

Age 5: Mom starts using slaps and door counselling when she's mad. 1 incident witnessed, rest deduced.  My default behaviour: fawn.  Backup: flee. She would push me hard from a standing position about 2 feet from a door so that I body slammed the door, pick me up and do it again.  Kitchen door was a hollow core.  It had some give.  Front door was solid fir, and 36" wide. It barely rattled.  While my sisters stories say "wall" our house at the time had very few walls conveniently placed for child slamming.  Either furniture, or book cases or pictures on most walls.  Doors were handier.  I don't know if the description of the abuse is real.  It just sort of poured out as I was originally writing this.  Maybe this is all made up. 

Physical abuse during my pre-teen, maybe early teen is only a possibility, but it does explain the paucity of memories in the house.  (Ask me about my memory project)

Emotional neglect.  There weren't a lot of hugs in our house.  There weren't many, "Well done, we're proud of you"  No, "You're looking down. Need to talk?"  I had to ask them for the standard sex lecture kids get.  Lots of embarrassment. Learned more from watching dogs *. This increased both my loner life, and the strong drive to get good at everything.  If my folks weren't going to take care of me, then I needed to. 

Age 8: I'm losing a caregiver.  This makes me push to become more self reliant.  But at 8, I'm still a little boy.  But in the basement, I'm growing crystals, inventing board games, making  hydrogen balloons, experimenting with metal casting, electrolysing water.

Age 14:  Really, I lost both parents.  My dad because he wasn't really there any more.  My mom because what energy she had was keeping Dad. 

I think I basically became feral.  I spent as little time at home as I could get away with and when I was there I was in the basement.  Parents were ok with this because I was a "good" boy.  Phone home if I'm going to be later than I said. I didn't act out.  Didn't drink.  Drinking as a teen requires socialisation.  I didn't do social.  Part of this was that being "good" probably resulted in less slapping around.  "Be Good.  Be Quiet.  Go down to your room.  Unless Star Trek is on."

Sounds like you are in hypoarousal most of the time. Been there.  Done that.  Got the t-shirt.   Google that, and also "Window of Tolerance"

Ways to raise your arousal levels:

- Good Any form of physical exercise.  Can be as light as walking.  I walk 6 miles a day. But running, swimming, skipping rope also work.  Heavier exercise (enough to get you breathing  hard) works better.  Weight lifting, chopping wood, hurling tires.  This is also a good way to burn off adrenaline if events push you toward hyper.

- Better:  Any form of exercise that also uses your brain.  I climb trees.  Rock Climbing, trampoline, parkour training, surfing, standing paddle board, trail biking, skateboard, long board would be good. kayaking, canoeing, sailing, especially in the ocean where you have to figure currents too. Active sports like soccer, hockey, basketball, water polo, squash, badminton.  Pickup games are best, little bench time. Avoid sports where you end up standing around or sitting on the bench a lot.  (I'm looking at you, Baseball)

- Best:  Any form of exercise that involves learning a new skill or pushing your present skill.

- Bester:  If it also has a scare element.

- Meditation.  Caution:  Certain kinds of meditation can slide you into dissociation.  Yoga and Tai Chi may be good forms..

- Certain breathing patterns. Find these in the same department as Meditation.


- Being outside in the sun.

- Vitamin D.  Try 2-5 thousand IU/day.  Takes a month.

- Music.  I find that music with a strong beat just a bit faster than I can comfortably
walk to helps. Songs that jerk tears from your eyes are good too.

- Learn a musical instrument.  Music teachers are cheaper than therapists.

- Cold showers.  You don't have to start cold.  In my climate I can't take full cold yet, as our well water temp is about 40 F.  The cold part doesn't have to be long.  1 minute is lots.  Enough to have a solid set of goose bumps and raise your pulse.

- Mild pain.  Rock in your shoe levels.

- Physical contact with someone you like.  Holding hands, hugs, kisses, massage, tickling, pillow fights, making love.  Snuggling with a pet counts too.  With pets, more contact is better.  Animal in lap, sharing a chair.

- Anything scary.  That's why those physical thinks like rock climbing and white water canoeing help.

- Anything that makes you feel vulnerable. These will also help with shame. If you are naturally modest, take your shirt off in a park. (It took me 10 years to be anywhere outside the bathroom barefoot. Today, I walked 6 miles on a country road at 0 C with a wind.)If it's too soon for that, try wearing daring clothes.   Bright red shirts. Out of style ties.  Thrift stores are good for this. You can start small: Neon green watch strap. Pink shoelaces in white sneakers.  Change your hair style.  Try a Mohawk.  If you have light hair, try coloured spikes.   Start conversations in grocery stores.  Be the first to say "I love you" in a relationship. (I'll try this when I have clue what "love" means)

- Anything that requires a commitment to others.  I just picked up a 4 month old puppy.

-  This sort of thing is ***really*** hard to do at first, so you probably need to get well into your WoT before it's effective.  Often even considering these activities will get your heart racing.

All of these require effort to do, will power that is hard to come by when hypo.  Give this message to a friend, and ask him to be your butt kicker.

I've read Fisher's "Healing the shattered selves..."

Through it I have gotten some contact with some of my parts. 

I don't get much opportunity to work with them.  One pshrink commented, "Patients don't come with their problems.  They come with their unsatisfactory solutions."

I show a lot of the markers:  Difficulty in decision making, low self esteem, a very inventive inner critic,  feel that I'm a burden, I'm broken.  One list of 56 markers, and I have 40 of them, emotional numbing, lack of interent, lack of ambition, NSSI, suicidal ideation.

But overall I'm a functional producer/consumer economic unit.

A nightmare in January started my journey, and my diagnosis.

Fisher opened my eyes.  She gets it about the self loathing, the internal conflicts.

But Fisher's examples all deal with people who are to some degree non-functional.  Emotional numbing is mentioned a couple times in her book, but not dealt with in any detail.

I have so deeply buried this stuff, that I have the odd emotional flashback, when an odd mood comes.  And some interesting somatic flashbacks.  Fisher's patients have intrusive memory of one sort or another frequently. And those are the contacts that fisher uses to help patients get re-acquinted with their parts.

I get so few, it makes me wonder if I'm really sick.  But I'm tired of having no emotions, or rather watered down ones.  I'm tired of the loss of interest.  I'm tired of cutting myself just to keep the depression away.

While I've identified parts, my communication with them mostly are pretty feeble.  With a few  exceptions they don't speak to me.  I project an idea, and sometimes there is resonance.  I sometimes think they are all just imaginary friends.

Any pointers to a book of similar scope to Fisher that deals with hypoaroused folk, that live 90% of their lives on the bottom edge of window of tolerance?

(Chorus, Hi, Dart)

I don't know that I have CTPSD.  One therapist thinks PTSD because that's all he can find in the DSM.

One thereapist accepts my self diagnosis, but admits I'm quirky.

The  instructions say not to be too graphic.  I don't know a lot.  What I know:

* At age 3 my behaviour changed.  Before that age, I had the toddler's usual disregard of clothing.  After that point, I insisted on being dressed up, including socks, even in the house.  For 10 years no one saw my toes, except for whoever was bathing me.  I was withdrawn for a long time, and was sufficiently off my feed, that mom would bring poor neighbour kids to have lunch with use to try to inspire me to eat more.

* As a young child, my sister was my main caregiver.  When I was 7 she was sent away in disgrace for getting pregnant without the saction of marraige.  A year later my brother went off to college.

* My mom shook my sister hard enough once that it was dectable in x-rays as an adult.
* My father caught my mom about to slam my sister into/through a wall.
* My sister caught my mom about to slam ME through a wall.

* At age 8, my father had surgery for colon cancer.  A side effect of the operation was total impotence.  My parents never showed physical affection again in my presence, so I had no role model of what what a romantic relationship should look like.
* At age 14 my father had open heart surgery to replace valves that were damaged by rhuematic fever when he was 19.  He was 14 hours on the heart lung machine, which induced a series of micro strokes throughout his brain.  He did not know me when he came home.  All of moms energy was involved taking care of him.
* My dad was weak for years before the surgery.  Also very much aloof.  Mom had badly controlled diabetes, with long periods of high blood sugar where she slept almost all the time, and short periods of being really angry when her sugar was low.  She also suffered from depression.

The time from 7 to 14 was intermittent neglect, living in a dirty, cluttered house.  Food on the table.  Warm place to sleep.  Short of hugs.  Short on praise. With Dad's surgery this got worse, and I was essentially feral, using the home as a source of meals and a place to sleep.

Raised roman catholic, my parents never spoke of sex.  I learned from watching dogs.  The church gave me some weird ideas.  I was ace until in my 40's.  I'm still sorting this out at age 69.

This did not leave me in a good place when I started a career as a teacher in boarding schools.  Three times I was fired, for some form of insubbordination, apparent lack of religious conviction, and daring to call the admin on their hypocrisies. Since the schools generally were live in, I lost my home, my job, my culture,  and my "family" each time.  All things that are high stress.  I wasn't ready for this any of the three times it occurred over the next 30 years.

All of this was buried.  I have no memory of the probable CSA, mostl likely from my 13 year old brother.  I do remember my sister vanishing.  I have no memory of physical abuse, although I've made about half a dozen freudian slips that differ on that.