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Topics - DecimalRocket

#1
I've been told I ask too little help, so I went to the extreme of asking a lot of help. Then when I went to ask for too little help again, and people told me otherwise. This confuses me.

Maybe I should ask different amounts of help from different types of people. Maybe it's the way I ask for help that's bad. But not sure about the specifics.

What can I do?
#2
A part of me is still anxious and afraid of not being accepted, but for some reason, I don't have the same pangs of loneliness anymore.

What got better? My emotions of connection towards others aren't dissociated in fear of being hurt anymore. I'm willing to speak up for my own boundaries now, especially in regards to needing to be alone and resting. I also can avoid the other extreme of taking my anger out on others because I haven't asked for my boundaries sooner.

I trust opening up to ask for help more -- whether in intellectual or emotional problems. I've gotten better at conversation skills and can think a lot more on my feet to adapt to different topics. I thought I'd relate to no one, but if I look closer, I can find more areas to relate with. My empathy catches up with my logical thinking, so my words aren't as blunt.

My curiosity winds up as a strength that I'm easily fascinated by different people's different interests, beliefs, and motives to ask questions. My sense of wonder has become a unique signature charm, even if I can be a little slow in forming my ideas, but I can call that being thoughtful, right?  :whistling:

I still get nervous and leave too soon or say too little, as well as other people's body language doesn't always full make sense to me. I'm still on the spectrum and will probably have a couple quirks or clumsiness all my life, but it won't be a dealbreaker for deep connection.

I'm not exactly joyful, really. But I'm not disappointed, and more fully relaxed.
#3
OOTS seems to have been the first place where people really get my issues -- instead of me having to explain through their misconceptions repeatedly. To be honest, I have a certain need for routine and support that makes me expect certain people to drop by for me at different times. I hold it in because of course. They have their own stresses to deal with and it'd be pretty rude to ask them to come all the time when I want to.

But having gone through most of my issues either entirely alone or misunderstood, I've gotten dependent on this place.  A part of me wants to be heard over and over again -- that more people would listen or spend more time with me -- but honestly, it never seems enough.

I wish I can learn to be a lot more emotionally independent so I don't have to bother people here that much. I've learned to nurture my own hurting little self more and more over time, but it just doesn't seem enough.

It's never enough.
#4
Friends / Intellectually Lonely & Emotionally Shy
May 09, 2018, 02:11:16 PM
I'm a little too tired now to explain the whole thing. Just see my recent journal entry if you want to see it in more in depth. Basically, I met someone who had as much varied and complex interests as me and it was a wonder.

I was recommended by my therapist to join some social skills classes for my shyness and social clumsiness though. I was paired up with other people my age and we just began getting to know each other with small talk. But it drove me crazy. I want as much complexity in a conversation as the first guy I mentioned, and to have to start with simpler topics before getting to the deep ones drove my frustration.

I'm just . . . I guess pretty intellectually lonely, and seeing something as rewarding as the first person compared to this group made it harder. I'm considering I'm judging it too soon though. Usually, in new paid situations like this, I get amazingly suspicious if it will work out and have to ask multiple questions to analyze every part of it if it's worth it. I'm a little embarrassed by my asking questions though. Maybe I seem overly suspicious. More information helps me to relieve stress and I don't have enough information!

Though, one of the other guys had this interesting hobby in studying different cultures and histories. I kinda like him. The activity today was controlled though, so I couldn't talk to him at length in freestyle. I'm probably being judgemental towards most people there though and just freaked out because of how nervous I am around them. My fear of emotional rejection and increased intellectual isolation as part of it. . .

I asked more questions, but he said he'll leave the next sessions to surprise. 

Well, I don't find surprises very fun. . .
#5
Well, this is going to sound a little crazy to most of you, but I'm not DR.

Not the DR you know at least. She/he (apparently they're a they. Weird.) is apparently off schedule now, and now I'm here. Haha. That sounds entertaining.

DR will probably freak about this after I post it, but well, call me Maya. A pleasure. I'm not as profound as the usual DR. Think of me as the part of DR that's more carefree and lazy for once, because damn does DR sound a little too err. . . disciplined to me.

Looking back at previous posts, DR fell in love and had an existential crisis. Looking at my moronic grandmother and her exploits, I can tell there's some tension DR was worried about.

Though, I think I have at least the honor to my main self to tell you what's going on. . . seriously. At least I'll try to be serious. Haha.

I only have vague memories of the day. I remember being a much more excitable ambitious side of myself. Then DR. Then a very kind and nurturing side. Then a very logical and tough sided side. Then me.

All I remember is that barely any of them would think this is a good idea. Mostly because sharing it would make things more stressful. But hey I'm bored, and I thought it'd be something to watch.

Hey, I know I'm not as filled with euphemisms and niceties, but I respect DR. I think this needs to be shared for their own good. If the dissociation's this bad then, then somewhere inside my own psyche . . . well, DR's stressed as *.
#6
I notice even without flashbacks or an obvious stressor, I'm charged and tense nearly all the time. It's summer vacation here, and a break from my formal education, but for some reason even when I'm taking a break, I get exhausted.

At times, I'd start to get dizzy spells and need to lie down for a few minutes or a little longer. Even getting up feels like it would take a lot of energy, and sometimes my muscles and head ache from it. Even back in school, I had some of these. I'd just physically collapse and when someone would check my temperature, though it seems a little more heated up, my body's not hot enough for a fever.

Sometimes I would need to rest for about an hour away from class in the middle of the school schedule. And compared to the first week of summer vacation, I feel a lot stronger, but just . . . not quite. I just chalked it up to my own trauma exhausting me, but I wonder if there's something more to that. . .

SIgh. I'm too young to be sickly.
#7
Letters of Recovery / Dear Almost Adult Me
April 23, 2018, 07:30:41 AM
Dear Almost Adult Me,

I'm sorry I didn't live up to your standards. I'm sorry I wasn't a good enough kid for you. I know you're trying to give all the compassion you can for me, but I think I'm a lost case. I'm worthless to society. I'm worthless to the people around me. I know you care, but I don't care about myself. I'm someone from the past that has never evolved, because you're what I've evolved in, and so I just better disappear.

But I'm not, and I don't know how. I'm still scared through you. I still feel alone through you. I still feel ashamed and guilty through you. I haunt you through your present life, and I'm sorry. But I wish I could have tried harder, and even though you believe I could be better, I can't. I'm little you with the memories of older us, and because of this, I know I deserve better.

I'm no coward like an older 15 year old self. I fight. I believe in us. I'm tired of this illogical bull. It may be naive optimism, but I know I did well. You've forgotten when you've got your panties in all this emotionally mushy stuff, and I agree, that's mature. But man up now, and show yourself some compassion like a real damn father to your inner child, or else I'm going to shower you with more insults I learned from Google.

Sincerely,
12-13 Year Old You.

Dear Almost Gone From The * of Puberty Me,

I-I- I know I'm jittery. I know I'm anxious. But I'm not a coward like . . . someone else mentioned. I- I know what I'm doing! But can you please give me some encouragement? Maybe love and care? I fell in love with a girl, and I never admitted it. She was sweet as a friend, and then she had to leave.

The nearest stable joy I have is in thinking, and I'm not sure if it's a joy rather than a safety. I wish you'd be a good mother to me, and take care of me. Sometimes I doubt things so hard that I doubt the existence of reality itself. If my thoughts are not worth trusting, is anyone else worth trusting? Do I trust that I trust others or do I not? The Earth is definitely flat, but my emotions aren't.

Before I was numbed enough to believe in myself and not cry. But now everything is coming out in tears. I'm confused. Emotions are weird. They're utterly illogical. I'm feeling new emotions, like compassion and connection. What about the cons to all this? What if I start feeling the hurt everyone else talks about when in conflict with their friends and family? What if I start worrying or getting too attached that I'll miss people? It'd be so much easier to be alone, but I can't.

I can't.

Help? I'm sorry for asking.

Sincerely,

14-15 Year Old You.

Dear Me. . . Just a Year From Now,

I had some bad ideas, I'm sure of it, but I didn't know where to go. I just wanted some love, and care, and everything, and so I bragged myself off on social media sites. Not even the ones with my real face or name in it. Just the ones with usernames, and everything. What's the use of giving it up?

If I told about myself, everyone will hate me. Look at how people see people like me? Chasing for upvotes online? Wow, how immature. How stupid. How attention seeking. Haha. Who'd care about me? Who'd care about anything I do? I've been doing this for years, and I'm still not happy.

Have you seen how I knew over 50 articles on self help, done it all, yet made barely any progress? Did you see that? Who'd love a liar? Who'd love me. Inside, I'm a monster who wants to be worshipped. Inside, I'm an insecure being without any accomplishments. People say they want someone inspiring, but they call that person fake. People say they want something real, but they call that person pathetic. I mean, they never really said that to me, but that's probably what they're thinking, right?

Tell me I don't deserve to die like what they're thinking of me.

Sincerely,
Late 15-Early 16 Year Old Self.
#8
Some people tell me I'm wiser beyond my years here, and I can see the point logically, but I can't feel it emotionally. I'm 17. I feel like saying this kind of thing about myself at my age would attract people who'd say that when I grow up, I'd realize how arrogant and full of stupid mistakes I made.

So I always notice mistakes in personal growth, and barely acknowledge progress in wisdom. My parents never praised me when I grew emotionally growing up, and no one else praised me about it either later on really.

What's the use of acknowledging my progress when one day I'll look back at them and I'd beat up on myself on how I was stupid? Then in that future I'll realize the future me would tell me the same thing over and over? I do the same with my past self everyday of every hour.

Maybe they're right. Just a naive arrogant teenager with barely any self awareness at all.
#9
Emotional Abuse / Forced to be Nurturing.
April 12, 2018, 06:34:30 AM
Growing up, my mom expected me to be a caretaker of her and my dad in some ways. In other people, this would make them spend so much time listening to their parent's woes. My personality just interpreted all that as gross and distanced myself.

I remember as a kid, my mom would want me to sleep with her in bed, not because I was afraid to sleep alone. But because she didn't want to sleep alone. She'd always want me around physically, even when I needed some privacy.

She shared her hatred towards her body, and I stayed silent with this thinking, "Jeez. Stop talking about overemotional stuff. Ew." I was respectful of other people who had body issues, but something about her being this clingy to me in particular was disgusting.

My dad had some health issues before, and she expected me to take care of him in a nurturing way. But I wasn't nurturing. That's gross. And I just ignored her.

She emphasized my weaknesses, and ignored many of my more different strengths. Seeing any of my ability to rapidly think of logical arguments toward her crazy rigid rules as "disobedience". Seeing my need to explore the novel as "dangerous". Seeing my relaxed pace of life as "too slow" or "too impractical." Seeing my casual humor as "immature".

I'd blow up with anger at her and I'd think it was all my fault. I'd become distant and suppress all my anger inside of me, and the values she forced on me just made me ignore my emotional side even further. I worked so hard to be more accepting, more understanding, more obedient, more structured and more what she expected, but I couldn't.

I'm still guilty though. Still guilty.

I never could live up to that image even if I tried, and I did.

I failed. I'm too slow on developing my own emotional and compassionate side, and she forced and rushed it out of me. I'm terrible at remembering schedules and organized tasks even if I'm good at them when I remember.  Forced it so hard I avoided it for most of my life.

Maybe I really am a monster.
#10
Therapy / I can’t trust my therapist.
April 07, 2018, 11:44:41 AM
It takes a very very very long time to warm up with people for emotional vulnerability. Very long. Honestly it's been more than a couple weekly visits that I've been seeing her, and opening up is hard. My mind just goes blank.

It's not that she's hurting me emotionally in some way. It's more like I grew up being incredibly suspicious of people especially with how my FOO planted those beliefs in me. I have friends now . . . but no one close in an emotional way that would allow me to share my troubles with.

She actually seems willing to listen to my suspicions and questions, allow me to take things slow, and acknowledge what I'm doing well. I opened up about surface problems, but not the hard on trauma parts.

She managed to stop the overly accusing questions at the first sessions by getting me to play board games with her. Thinking things through like in a game calms me down, especially strategy games. Then she managed to get me to open up through writing a fictional story and drawing pictures of what I'm feeling, but the metaphors I made were vague.  She had a bunch of cards for get to know you questions, and I think I opened up about my views in life than anyone I've met in real life.

But nope. Still can't open up about my own past. Still can't admit to some issues with boundaries in real life. Still can't share my own emotions and worries directly. Nope. Nope. Nope.

I feel so ashamed. Shouldn't I be trusting enough? I mean, other people here can do it but why can't I? This person seems worth trusting, but I just . . . can't.

Yesterday I had another session with her. I couldn't stand to share anyting that day, so she just invited me to play this game where there's a secret code and each player has to give hints to figure it out. Thinking calms me down, so this calmed me down quickly.

But after that, I just left feeling like I just wasted my time there by getting too scared about opening up. Why can't I connect emotionally as well as intellectually?

Sigh. I'm too much of a coward for that.
#11
My dad was and is a wealthy businessman coming from a family of generations of wealth. On my father's side, my grandma was a wealthy doctor and now a land owner earning about a million each month. One of my indirect grandfathers (grand uncle?) is a real estate CEO rich enough that I can google his name online and see news articles about him.

Why do I mention this? Well, growing up he had a thing about money. He'd only praise me when it was something that could make me rich, and when I tried to decide what career I wanted, he recommended whatever gave me the most money. He'd "spoil" me by buying whatever I wanted, which is less something I wanted and mostly what he wanted. He'd always emphasize how loving he is to me by talking about how expensive what he bought for me, and I'd begrudgingly feel obliged to praise him. He made so much effort from all his pain and hard work, he'd say.

Somehow, I developed some guilt around money, even with things I need. Where I study, they were upgrading to more hi-tech options and even if I needed a new laptop to do much of my school work, I didn't ask for it. I felt guilty to buy books and online courses that helped with calming down my emotions and learn interests I was passionate in. Sometimes I'd save so much of my allowance, It'd take a very long time until I even used it for myself. Even asking money to pay for therapy was guilt ridding.

Maybe I just felt like I didn't praise my dad enough for buying me things. That I had to earn financial security by praising on how he's being the "good parent". He went and bought one of the widest inch screen TV I've seen in my life, and I just feel guilty.

Sometimes I just think I should be poor and live off the streets.

The complete opposite of what you expect from the kid of millionaires.

Life is weird.
#12
Not to be hard on anyone who says this to me or others here. That, or others with Cptsd, but I don't get it when people tell me I'm strong.

I'd expect someone who's strong to be a lot more mentally healthy than me. Someone a lot more confident, a lot more secure in relationships, and someone who actually feels they're deserving of happiness all the time.

Me? I'm not like that at all. At least call someone strong who doesn't cry at least a little everyday.

So how can I be called strong? How can all the different people with mood disorders be called strong?

It seems like I'm weak to me, and other people around here are stronger in many ways.
#13
Would you mind if I rant my guts out today?

Sometimes when I have flashbacks, and I can't pinpoint a memory, I get this strange sense of the pain being farther beyond in the past than I thought. Maybe when I was a toddler, or even when I was a baby. Maybe I'm just crazy, but for some reason the thought of it makes me emotional in a way that takes that idea seriously.

I had some very weird practices in the early days as a kid. I remember I liked to imagine I was in pain, say sick or injured, and I'd always do it right before I sleep even before I was 10. I don't do that anymore, but I remember realizing that I did that because I liked someone being compassionate to me during those times, and I stopped when I had more real life sources of kindness.

I don't know where I picked it up, probably the internet since I was emotionally abandoned to it after school, but I romanticized evil. I bet I picked it up from people who idealized bad boys and girls on the media. Who knows. I rarely ever acted on it, but inside I'd crave it in my mind in multiple dark daydreams. Crave it for the attention and love I could get, and when I moved to different media where people hated these kinds of people, I hated myself too.

That's when I believed I could be killed. Of course. If God was watching, then I was about to be punished, after all. I was the kid who was afraid of monsters in the dark, that they were coming for me, and I was a bad kid. It was all my responsibility to deal with. In the corner of my eye, sometimes I felt someone was moving across the room quickly, only to see no one was there. A few times I felt someone was calling out for me, and one time I think I saw a floating hand out my window once.

I never told anyone this. I healed on my own with these symptoms as a kid. I read about CBT, and I read about meditation. I did it by myself, and I was familiar that things had to be done myself.

I don't have these beliefs or . . . hallucinations anymore. But something about my total emotional isolation back in those times emotionally moves me to the core.

Hey, maybe it wasn't that bad. I mean, it's normal for a kid to be afraid of ghosts and monsters hiding in the dark, right?
#14
I don't think of how much dad plays into my trauma. My mom was the abuser. My dad? He was barely there growing up that it was easy to forget how he added to the picture.

He was the type of dad who joked around. . . but only when he was there. Most of the time he wasn't. When I asked about his past and his personal thoughts, he never would open up. He'd be nice the little time he was there, but most of the time when he was in the house, he'd go straight to his own solitary hobbies. He rarely ever did much during the time my mom shouted at me everyday. He just . . . disappears. A lot like how I dealt with my relationships growing up, and even now to an extent.

I still live with my FOO as I'm turning 17 next month on April 10, and he still feels . . . distant. He buys things for me, and even if I said I didn't want some of these things, he'd buy them anyway. I just go along and thank him, but somehow it feels . . . empty. He gets distant, and I get distant, and I don't really know what to do about it. I'm the child of generations of wealthy business people, and growing up he had this value with money.

For what my ability to detect social cues is worth (which often sucks), It didn't seem like he really wanted to buy me these because he cared about me. Maybe it was another way to show off. Though I often understand people more deeply the longer I'm with them, and he's been around for my entire life.

I wish I had the type of dad who told me his views on life and I share mine. The type of dad who told me stories of his childhood. The type of dad who I'd share hobbies together, and praised me on things other than skills that could make me rich.

Maybe I'm just delusional.
#15
Recovery Journals / Back to Earth Recovery Journal
March 27, 2018, 03:25:59 AM
I thought I'd get a new journal now that the old one is getting too long. Not that I still don't want anyone to reply to my last post there.  :whistling:

When I first came here, I thought of the title 'The Sky is Not the Limit" as a pun to my username. Some people call me Rocket around here, and that's what I envisioned. To explore something beyond the skies. Beyond what was currently seen.

Apparently the famous science speaker Neil Degrasse Tyson had the same title on his biography without me knowing disappointingly. Hey, we all know he stole it from me.  :bigwink:

I named this one Back to Earth for a reason. I remember the book 'The Alchemist', and spoiler alert, the main character goes on an entire journey away from home, until he realizes what he really wanted was back at home. The first title was when I thought growing in life was thinking hurriedly, working hard and dreaming big. But as time passed, I grew by settling down, relaxing and becoming more grounded.

I'm coming back to home. I'm coming back to being too stuck in the past and being too absorbed into the future. I'm coming back from the false ideas that I thought would make me perfectly happy.

Yeah, finally. I'm coming back to Earth.
#16
I use these words to describe myself too often in a way that's too hard on myself. Maybe I use it too much because I don't really make it clear what they mean. I usually find ways to recover by defining words in a way that's helpful to me. It's where I can define ideas for myself rather than what others who are judgemental think.

How can you tell if anyone is one of these things?
How can you tell they're not?
What should be done if I or someone else is like this?

At least one of these questions answered are fine. Honestly, I feel stupid for asking.  :disappear:
#17
When I think about my own financial access to things, I just feel like all my trauma is petty. I know there are those with trauma in the wealthy - there was a reddit post that had people from millionaire families who were severely physically, emotionally and sexually abused and neglected but well. . .

I grew up emotionally neglected and isolated. Without directly talking to people, I just made up all kinds of conclusions on the world based on what I saw online. I remember a lot of people portraying the rich as being petty often. I found it strange how other countries, the poor is blamed for not working hard enough. Here in a third world country like this, in tv shows, often they have a rich person being a one dimensional demonized character, and the poor person a main character of resilience, hope and reward.

I remember I made a post on how life was easier for me in a forum, while someone just told me how harder it was for them to live in a life of poverty in response. I said I understood how hard that can be, at least from a spectator's viewpoint, but I just left thinking all my pain about wanting to end my life was just me being crazy.

I remember all the fantasies about ending it I had at that time. So many different ones, it's hard to say them all. I'm not thinking of doing it, but I imagine it, yes.

Maybe my progress isn't my doing. Maybe it's because I can pay all these different therapists and different tutors to help me in school. Maybe it's just because I can pay for so many books to help me gain knowledge about recovery. Maybe it's because all my future college bills are going to be payed by my billionaire grandfather and a trust fund large enough that I'm sure I won't get bankrupt for years. Maybe I'm just lucky.

Maybe I'm just pathetic.

Maybe I deserve my shame, and what it's telling me to do.
#18
There's a part of me that's calling out now.

It's the voice that tells me how annoyed it is about not having attention. The one that's absolutely pissed at people for not putting the effort to pay attention. The one who's resentful of everyone else who gets more attention. The one that hates others as much as it hates itself.

I remember back then I heard the advice that to heal, you have to open up and trust people to see your weaker side. And how did people who I asked help from react to that side of me? Disgusted. Shaming me. Ignoring me.

No one ever praised me for being honest when I used to lie about this. No one ever praised me for being vulnerable when I thought people would be disgusted, and they were. No one ever thought that I had spent years trying to do something about it and asked.

What was the use of getting people to love and care for that side of me? What was the use of trusting people?

I don't know.


#19
It doesn't always trigger me, but at times, it does for some reason. I woke up after a nightmare from a nap and felt deeply disturbed by these memories.

I thought the stress from touch was only from Sensory Processing Disorder — where I have a certain subset of it that makes my sense of touch overly sensitive. But looking closer, I . . . remembered things too.

I guess I'll start from the uncomfortable to the deeply disturbing,

One of them was tapping — like tapping my shoulder for my attention. My mom back then would often do this in one of her rage panic fests with me. Depending on how stressed I am, friends who may do this can be . . . disorienting.

She'd often ask for some kind of physical affection to thank her "kindness" for some reason. She'd often make a pity party for herself about that — especially about hugs, and now something about hugs scare me somehow.

Another was how I was often grabbed by the hands by my mom to go where she wanted. I was physically smaller, and she was big. That terrified me about my sense of control. For some reason, I can remember this when I brush sides with a stranger while passing by in a crowd.

The worst was when I was dragged. I remember a certain reoccuring memory where I was tired and depressed one day — I just wanted to rest on the bed. My mom would shout at me to do some everyday routine, and she'd feel so enraged at my inaction that she shouted at me until I cried. And dragged me by my own smaller legs off the bed.

I remember that last the most. . . where I just feel scared, tiny and helpless.
#20
I've been thinking of my 13 year old self. I was pretty terrible back then since after all, my mom treated me pretty terribly — often telling me it was my fault when I expressed she was being too controlling.

I was a lot more short tempered at home. At school, I was distant — but warm outwardly when I talked. I talked with people for their knowledge or for a laugh together — but there wasn't really much of any genuine connection to them as a person.

Inside, I was constantly disgusted and judgemental of other people as much as I was at myself. I'd hold in my anger all the time — didn't want to get emotional at other people. Because of this, I believed anyone who'd know who I was inside would hate me.

I still feel guilty. I still feel like I'll harm someone or assume others' pain is my fault. I still feel like I'm some kind of monster sometimes — especially when I still flashback to that anger. I still think I'm being arrogant when I gain some confidence. I still think asking for help is being cruel as a burden. I still think I'm hiding some secret evil motives and I'm just not aware of them.

I don't know. Maybe that voice in my head is right . . .