Show Posts

This section allows you to view all posts made by this member. Note that you can only see posts made in areas you currently have access to.

Topics - DecimalRocket

Pages: 1 [2] 3 4 5
Emotional Abuse / Why I don't feel like I deserve financial security.
« on: April 07, 2018, 06:08:01 AM »
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.

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.

Sigh. I have a much longer post on neglect/abandonment here but this is the my secret. Sorry if I just made a Difficult Day post a few days already after my last one. Maybe I took too much space.

I realize why I felt so worthless today lately. I'm flashing back. Around the age of 10, I thought monsters in the dark would kill me. I believed I was a very bad child, and somewhere out there I deserved to die. I felt like I saw figures quickly passing by in the corner of my eye. People who called out my name for a second there - too quiet to be sure. I once remembered a floating hand appearing on my window and disappearing a few seconds after.

I was a very bad kid I thought, and I thought I was a monster. I thought I couldn't tell anyone or they'd see me as a monster. I still haven't told anyone once. The hallucinations are gone and I don't believe I deserve to be killed anymore. I googled ways to heal mental health myself and consistently did them for a very very very long time with CBT and mindfulness.

What disturbs me is that looking back at it now .  . . is that I thought it was normal. I thought it was normal to deal with all these emotions myself. I thought I was so worthless anyone who'd hear me would think I was a liar, and I spent years believing the tiniest details I've forgotten to say meant others thought I was a liar.

The extremes are gone, but I still feel worthless sometimes. I still do.

Sigh. This is the most unbelievable part of my history, and well, maybe I'm not worth believing anyway. It wasn't that bad, really. I mean, isn't it normal for a kid to believe about monsters in the dark? I did the same . . . just . . . no one really was there to soothe my fears and end them.

Neglect/Abandonment / Dark Fantasies as a Child from Neglect? - TW***
« on: April 02, 2018, 05:10:11 AM »
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?

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.

Recovery Journals / Back to Earth Recovery Journal
« on: 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.

Having an Exceptionally Difficult Day / I wish I was perfect.
« on: March 25, 2018, 08:44:50 AM »
I donít know why. I just feel empty all of a sudden.

At some level, Iíve often been dissociated from my own life. I often would imagine a much more exciting life, where Iím much better than the person I am in real life.

But as I open up to people, I focus less on my daydreams and more on my real self. It can be deeply healing, but itís also . . . disappointing. I guess Iím realizing more in detail that I can never achieve perfection.

I lack confidence. I can get too shy and boring. I can overthink and overprepare. I canít be assertive sometimes, and when I do, I get short tempered. I whine too much here.

I keep secrets too much in a way that makes people misunderstand me. I need assurance. I can do things brilliantly, but sometimes forget to do it in the first place. My fine motor skills can be terrible, and much more.

Maybe I deserve to be abandoned.


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:

Suicide Ideation/Self Harm / Maybe I'm just petty and rich after all.
« on: March 20, 2018, 02:39:26 AM »
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.

Inner Child Work / Iím disgusted by my younger self.
« on: March 17, 2018, 12:32:29 AM »
Thereís a part of me thatís calling out now.

Itís the voice that tells me how annoyed it is about not having attention. The one thatís absolutely pissed at people for not putting the effort to pay attention. The one whoís 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 donít know.

Having an Exceptionally Difficult Day / I'm exhausted from all this.
« on: March 15, 2018, 12:37:47 PM »
It's nearly finals where I am, and it's stressing me out. I remember being often too hard on myself during this time of the year, and the flashbacks have been piling up over me much more intensely. I've had a couple of crying breakdowns today. and I almost feel tired enough to pass out.

One thing that threw me off was my own resume for college, and actually it was pretty good - ridiculously qualified to many standards. That's the point though. I feel like a fraud. A liar. I feel like all my achievements would fall and crash one day. I grew up people seeing my own natural intelligence and curiosity, and thinking I could change the world. Some people still ask me to remember them when I get famous.

It wasn't school that worried me the most. It was the fear of not being loved and treasured for who I am. It was believing that when I'm exhausted, people won't show compassion but anger. Possibly-can-change-the-world-me's easier to like. How about massively-insecure-and-in-pain me though?

I love learning, but learning to a strict deadline that's graded, timed and pressured is something else. The classes in the country are often so high standard that there are classes so hard most people fail and the smartest and/or the most hardworking just humbly pass. The week before finals is the most hectic, and they force students to work till late at night for some of our requirements. The teachers seem to normalize this workaholism as just a matter of "discipline", but other students are often more sympathetic to all this.

Sigh. I'm not staying late today. If I do even more, I'll get a fever and this would get even worse.

I'll try to sleep a full night and relaxxxxx.

Birthday / 17th Birthday Next Month
« on: March 11, 2018, 07:28:19 AM »
Itís not really that near, but for some reason it still bothers me. Iíll be turning 17 on April 10, and it brings some memories I donít enjoy. There really isnít anything special from birthday memories from the rest of the memories in my past ó all anxious, depressed and lonely. But thereís something about this date just make these memories easier to remember.

Well, itís also a reminder that Iím growing up. CPTSD already makes things complicated, but add the confusion of growing up and that freaks me out. What will my future be like? Will I do well? Will I mess up in a downward turn? Will it get harder?

Mixed with the terrible memories, Iím strangely nostalgic about my childhood ó where even though I was already deeply worried, my worries were simpler to understand. Now Iím bingewatching old tv shows Iíve watched in childhood from all this nostalgia.

Iím doing absolutely terrible at this. . .

Having an Exceptionally Difficult Day / I wish I had a better M.
« on: March 07, 2018, 11:24:53 PM »
I had to stay at home today. Iíve become a little too physically weak to go today. I always seem to have the most intense EFs after the happiest days. Thereís something triggering about me being rewarded emotionally.

I had to argue with my M to get to stay home in bed ó while I had trouble standing up. She panicked. She was absolutely angry at me for being like this. I donít know. Anxiety and anger is hard to distinguish to me sometimes. Most emotions are less specific but just ďgoodĒ and ďbadĒ to me. We had a time out where we stayed separated so she could calm down.

She did calm down ó but not completely. We talked it out and I donít know if I should have. She wanted to know why I didnít just speak back. I told her that her just talking over me and never bothering to ask any questions of what my situation is like taught me to shut up my entire life.

 She kept defending herself ó saying she had good intentions, saying that she has a hard time at work, saying that sheís going to be late and just not listening to me.

She eventually said sorry, but it took a while. And my sick bodyís a little more exhausted.

She has her own trauma. Grew up hungry in poverty while her F abandoned her M for another woman. Her brothers made her do all their work and repeatedly told by her friends that she was ďstupidĒ.

Yes, I understand how hard it is. I know. Iíve been trying to understand all my life. But why am I the one with the ability to make my own decisions and have to teach her things when she takes her panic on me? Sheís the parent and doesnít have HFA. Why am I the one who makes the effort to research about conflict skills and she has to learn it from me? Sometimes I tell her about parenting books I read so sheíd parent me better.

Sometimes I think Iím the one more calmer and rational here, ďthe logical decision making brainĒ in the relationship. Sometimes I just think Iím pathetic.

Am I just whining?

Having an Exceptionally Difficult Day / Iíve lost my love of writing.
« on: February 24, 2018, 12:08:04 PM »
Hey guys, I . . . think I have to start saying things in this again.

Something someone said triggered me. No naming anyone here, and it wasnít their fault. And I remember another forum where I asked help before that made me think this way.

I remember asking for help about dealing with my fear of trying to write articles on controversial opinions. I used to be a volunteer writer on a site ó my collection of 100+ posts totals over a 100,000 views. I even got one article placed in the official magazine. But I didnít see that as good ó barely anyone commented on my writing or how it has helped them. The views were all just . . . cold numbers.

I remember this one person said in a thread that I was selfish. To fear what other people thought of my own opinions meant I was just doing it all for myself. And I broke when I heard that. I stopped writing there. I stopped sharing my ideas online and in real life as much. She validated what I feared the most with what my abusive childhood taught me. Nearly a year after, I still remember it fresh in my mind.

I used to love both science/technology with journalism/creative writing equally. Now itís . . . different. Both the best of science and journalism strived for truth ó but Iím too pathetic to share and think anything different sometimes.

But I donít know. Iím a shell of how I used to use my words. No longer as confident to write and show what Iíve understood with people. No longer as confident that what I write or speak is from kindness or that my ideas are too crazy or stupid to help sometimes.

Maybe my words are monsters as much as I am myself.

It doesnít 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 ó 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 Iíll start from the uncomfortable to the deeply disturbing,

One of them was tapping ó 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.

Sheíd often ask for some kind of physical affection to thank her ďkindnessĒ for some reason. Sheíd often make a pity party for herself about that ó 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 ó I just wanted to rest on the bed. My mom would shout at me to do some everyday routine, and sheíd 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.

Pages: 1 [2] 3 4 5