Messages

[September 14, 2017]

Thank you Three Roses!


September 14, 2017
Triggers for this post: Medical Abuse, Child Sexual Grooming/Brainwash

Where to start.

I was proud of myself this morning. Despite my irritable bowel syndrome acting up in the middle of the night and leading to pain and insomnia, I gathered enough courage to call my family doctor first thing in the morning and got an appointment. I've been meaning to for about a week now, but using the phone is hard and extremely anxiety-inducing, so I kept pushing it back.

Not this morning though. I'm seeing her September 20 in the morning.

The reason I wanted an appointment is two-fold. First, I've been out of medication for a little over a year. I used to take a whole cocktail of antidepressant pills and such, but stopped because it didn't make any difference except messing with my thought process. Writing replaced my meds, and for a while the sheer exhilaration of being creative again made me feel a lot better than anything else did since my 2010 meltdown. However, I've been worse lately and I'm running out of PRN anxiety medication, so I need to ask for a refill.

The second reason is because I think it's time for me to ask for a second psychiatric evaluation.

The first one was done late 2010 when I got admitted in the mental ward of my local hospital, and it was nightmarish. I used to SI a lot at the time, and the psychiatrist there latched on that one thing to try and fit me into the BPD box despite me only having a max of 4 symptoms from the DSM IV category (now reduced to a max of 3 because I'm SI-free since 2011). She dosed me with heavy medication, pushed me over the edge deliberately to "prove" I wasn't in control of my emotions, and completely ignored my other, way more important claims of debilitating anxiety and panic attacks, invasive visual flashbacks, severe dissociation (derealisation/depersonalisation), and what I shyly tried to describe as "screams sometimes echoing in my head". And that was before I even heard about emotional flashbacks.

Nope. I was self-injuring, I couldn't possibly be anything else than BPD, which means that everything else was either imagination (aka, I was the bad guy) or somatisation (an excuse she legit used on me to gaslight me/dismiss my claims of harmful side-effects once after dosing me with anti-psychotic medication -- thankfully I was validated later with a basic google research).

I'm not ashamed to call it one of the worst experiences of my life, and like most of us here, I've been through a lot to put that one into perspective. It literally burned my sense of self to the ground, and made my Inner/Outer Critics so much stronger.

I got out of there after six weeks, following which I was passed along from therapist to group therapy to new therapist, none of them staying with me more than a year, none of them being able to provide any help at all. From March 2011 to December 2015 I saw 7 different therapists and was part of... 3 or 4 different support groups, can't remember anymore, it's all a blur honestly. With each new therapist/group, I was a little less able to trust, and of course was shamed because of it ("if you're hiding things from me, how am I supposed to help you?" and "If you can't trust me, why are you here at all?"). I quit early January 2016 because the program I was in at the time used a very "sink or swim" approach, and clearly I was drowning.

But now I've been out of therapy for a year and a half, and I realise the longer it goes on, the more I'm scared to try again. The least I trust people, and the more I hate humanity in general because of my Inner/Outer Critics. And I desperately need help, now more than ever since I'm starting to come to terms with the fact I may not be alone in my own mind. Those "echoes of screams" I tried to describe without having the words for it so long ago? They're a lot clearer now, and I can "see" some of them when I close my eyes. Children. Teens. A tree. A cat. They don't talk to me in words, but they communicate with screams, bursts of emotion and abstract colours/forms. And some of them have names.

I don't have amnesia (as far as I know). But I used to as a child. A few times (at least two that I remember of) people came to me and told me about things I did or said, which I still can't remember saying or doing. And my mother is very fond of talking about how I used to go berserk at times, screaming and crying and throwing things around before calming down and going on as if nothing happened. And this is textbook one of the kids in my head, this is Kaylee, and she needs help. We both need help. And I think I owe it to myself to get that help. Try again, one last time at least.

Have no idea if it will amount to anything, and I'm terrified. I'm having panic attack over panic attack since I called. But if I keep doing nothing, I'll waste my whole life away.

My father brainwashed me into thinking that my whole worth was embodied by the fact I was a child. That when I reached adulthood, I could as well just go and die, because I would have reached my "expiration date". I'm extremely aware of how toxic it is, I haven't seen the man since I was six, and still I can't shake that thought away because something, maybe someone, is holding on to that false belief desperately.

It's been seven years since my meltdown, and I'm in my 30s already. If I don't get help, it's like letting him win, and I can't do that. I just can't.

[Index]

Index

• September 14, 2017 - Triggers: Medical Abuse, Child Sexual Grooming & Brainwash
• September 17, 2017 - Triggers: Violent self-hatred
• September 22, 2017 - Triggers: CSA, Child Sexual Grooming & Brainwash, Rant toward non-abusive parent
• September 28, 2017 - Triggers: Happy mood

I've learned the hard way that a lot of people can't handle me when I'm deep in depression, and I desperately need a place where I can free myself of the darkness inside. As such, I won't go out of my way to describe graphic events and be deliberately triggering to others, but I will not censure myself -- I've done too much of that already.

So please, please stay safe. I promise I won't be hurt if you can't read or comment my posts, for now or at all. Thank you.

Yes, I've read a few of your posts, most of them which I relate to strongly. You've been through the mills, there's absolutely no doubt about it.

I was just offering validation to anyone who has been sexually abused as a late teen/early20s, and I named you because I wished to include your 17-18th years old experience. That's all.

[...] there's something about someone calling you a 'child' - supposedly the epitome of innocence and the happiest of people - and you're none of that. I guess that's just me though.

Definitely not just you. By society's standards (where "being a child" means being innocent, happy, carefree, with no "real" fears/responsibilities/problems/life experience, etc.) I've never been a child. How could I? I was (among other things) sexually abused from birth, every week non-stop until two months before I turned 6. My experience of childhood is so very removed from how everyone portrays it it's not even funny anymore (and never really was to begin with).

However, I gained perspective since I've been out of my 20s. Any situation where you are taken advantage of specifically because of the helplessness of your youth (and yes, that also includes you Andy) can be seen as child abuse if you wish so. You can struggle to see it that way, but it doesn't make that assessment less valid.

You can choose not to apply that label to yourself though, especially if you're still young and the idea of being seen as a child makes you feel more vulnerable.

But if it helps you understand it wasn't your fault (because it definitely wasn't!), then please allow yourself to think of your past self as a child who was taken advantage of. Because for all intent and purposes, it wouldn't be a lie.

I relate to this a lot, Frederica. Could have written that post myself. Sometimes you're happy for recovering people, sometimes you just wish they'd leave you the f--- alone with their optimism.

Sorry I'm late to the party. But I'll throw my two cents anyway.

To me, hyper vigilance is like being the last human in a society of zombies. To feel safe I have to stay inside, out of sight and completely alone. Every time I go outside, I'm on high alert. There are zombies everywhere. What if they notice I'm not like them? What if they talk to me attack me randomly? What if they try to lure me into complacency, then try to become friends eat my brain soul, mind, energy, whatever fits best?

I walk the streets sweating and short of breath, eyes and ears trying to be everywhere at once. When I meet someone a zombie in the streets, I never cross their eyes, but take everything else in. The way they walk. Their body language. Their voice, if they're on the phone. Are they displaying interest in me? Try to be invisible, walk quickly, appear preoccupied. Are they distracted by something, not paying much attention to their surroundings? Keep an eye on them, stay prepared to run for your life.

I do have zombie friends. Sometimes I even go out with them. They don't seem to care I'm not a zombie, or maybe they don't realise. It's easier when I'm with one of them. They can shield me from others, and if I trust them enough to focus all of my attention on them then it gives my brain respite. But if I don't trust them enough, everything else distracts me. I don't always hear them talk because my mind is too busy processing the threat of others. Then they get mad hungry and attack my brain. It's understandable. My fault, for befriending a zombie.

Our whole society is made for zombies. Their senses aren't as heightened, so they don't mind crowds, they don't mind being bombarded with loud noises, flashy colours, bright contrasts. They only mind temperatures extremes, hot and cold and rain and snow, because of how it harms their bodies. That at least we can all relate on the same level, or nearly enough.

I could keep going on with the analogy, but I think you get the picture. To me, hyper vigilance is tightly knit with severe anxiety and integral to the experience. Most people have trouble relating to the experience of a hunted animal. But everyone understands the horror of zombies.

Thank you Kizzie! =)

Thank you so much, Dee, Libby12 and Three Roses! So kind of you, I really appreciate your welcome. <3

You are not alone in your distrust of opening up, I suspect you've learned the hard way.

Yes, I suspect this is a recurrent theme with us, haha. Sometimes the "threat" is real, sometimes it's the Inner/Outer Critic taking too much space... result is the same, we get covered in metaphorical burns.

But I've read you all for a while now, and I know how kind you are. So I'm really hoping this is it. Thank you.

Hi!

Been lurking this forum for a while as an anonymous guest, decided to jump into the fray and register because I see how helpful talking with people who understand is, and I'm in a place where I really need that kind of help and support. So here I am, hopefully to give as much as take.

Sorry this is short, I kind of loathe introductions and I'm notoriously distrustful. Opening up on internet forums bit me in the asterisk in the past, so things might be slow for a while. But one of the really interesting features on this forum is the possibility to open a recovery journal, so when I feel safe enough, I'll probably share more over there.

In the meantime, thank you for being here.