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
General Discussion / Believing Iím some kind of monster.
« on: February 11, 2018, 03:37:22 AM »
Iíve been thinking of my 13 year old self. I was pretty terrible back then since after all, my mom treated me pretty terribly ó 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 ó but warm outwardly when I talked. I talked with people for their knowledge or for a laugh together ó but there wasnít 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. Iíd hold in my anger all the time ó didnít want to get emotional at other people. Because of this, I believed anyone whoíd know who I was inside would hate me.

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

I donít know. Maybe that voice in my head is right . . .

Having an Exceptionally Difficult Day / I miss them too much.
« on: February 08, 2018, 09:01:46 AM »
I miss them.

I remember plastering my face into the glass wall as a kidó watching the tiny cars several meters below pass by. My parents were busy working to the point of emotional neglect, and so I often played around with their employees when they brought me to the office during summer vacation.

I learned how to make a paper airplane that can swoop really far from the janitor. I remember being pushed around an office chair with wheels zipping by the hallway by a secretary, and shared a passion over anime with another. I remember nanny S would tuck me in a blanket on the couch in the meeting room.

Haha, yeah, especially the workers in the house. I remember S would soothe me after my mom shouted at me untill I cried. Nanny C was lazy but told me the best jokes. Nanny V was the youngest, and I could relate to her that way. But well. . . my grandma often was incredibly harsh with servants ó and well, now. . .  they all left.

There was a new maid again ó LL ó after the last one got replaced.

Can I do something? What if grandma emotionally abuses me back? But wait ó thereís a reason why she respects me and not them, is there?

I saw LL mopping and said, ďIf my grandmaís being hurtful to you, tell me. Iíll deal with her,Ē and walked away.

My chest still tightens as I think about confronting her lateró Iím terrified, grieving, missing. . . and  somehow wildly amused at reality.

Sigh. I'd trade my wealth for a loving childhood . . . with a stable source of love.

Still don't get why people respond to me here. I'm not important at all. Iím probably just exagerating everything. Maybe itís just my fault.

I've been trying to come here, leaving and going, over and over again for these past days. I can't seem to bring the strength to open up to people here as much as the idea of no one possibly listening breaks my heart. I really wish people would give me at least a little more attention if they're well enough for it - as it takes so much effort to reach out more as I recover. I feel too fragile sometimes - the smallest signs of rejection and ignorance hurts me even if I know the person didn't mean it.

I fear the future. I fear what's going to happen in the next moment, tomorrow, next week, years into the future and even far ahead decades. Will I ever be satisfied and proud of my life? Will I ever get it figured out at least enough by the time I get to college and will I even manage to survive past the classes now? Will I have people I could open up to without withdrawing and distancing myself too fast? Will I ever do something meaningful for society? Top it off with CPTSD, and it gets more complicated.

My relationship with my mom and I is improving - but it's still tough. I have to remind her not to make assumptions that my own wishes and needs are not hers. I need to argue why she's being too controlling and teaching me to overwork. And to do that while I'm feeling so vulnerable is exhausting.

Even when I'm reasonably calm and happy, there's always this amount of hurt in the background.

I just wish someone would tell me I exist, because sometimes I don't feel like I am.

Checking Out / I need to reflect in solitude about what I really think.
« on: January 02, 2018, 09:21:11 AM »
Hey, didnít know whether to put this in my journal or here, . . . so I just figured to do both. Hi.

Hey, I think Iíll be taking a break from OOTS for a bit. I donít know how long ó I donít usually plan ahead that far off. I figure it out as a I go.

I know I usually come back when I say this, but I bet Iíll really try this this time. Why? Because I realized I donít accept myself. . . because I donít know myself. But in a way, people accepting me here allowed a certain role modeling of what acceptance looks like, that I can use now in solitude.

I thought thinking for yourself was only about the big things ó political and spiritual beliefs, education and career choices, long term goals and priorities in life, and so on. But now I believe that thinking for yourself is also about the little things.

What little activities I decide for myself on a day. What little things I say to others or refuse to say on a day. How I define concepts obvious seeming concepts such as true or false, smart or stupid, laziness or hard work, kindness or cruelty, and so on. To remove assumptions and to see life without words ó the Truth ó a concept I mention at the start of my journal.

I need the details rational and precise, you see ó not based on a fear of rejection, ignored or being left out. Maybe in a way theyíre more important ó because these little decisions take up a much larger time of our lives. But I only had enough confidence to start to trust myself this way because of OOTS, after all.

So see you much later, unless I give up on this too soon because of some emotional emergency. Who knows?

Bye.  :hug:

Iíve never felt so deeply accepting of myself and my life as much as today.

I look back at the year before me, and wonder, what did I learn? What was the most essential thing Iíve learned?

It it was the myth of the ideal.

In all my years of having more interests and hobbies than anyone else Iíve known, have I seen anyone I reasonably knew enough about to judge them if they were perfect? Had perfect lives, strengths, and successes?


Iíve seen athletes and musicians damaged over their strict coaches, Harvard physicists deeply insecure of their intelligence, Youtubers of entertainment videos afraid of how they show up to their fans and artists cringing over their older and present creative projects.

Iíve seen people of parenting blogs believing they arenít good enough to their kids, programmers who believe they donít work on their codes enough, fitness lovers who believe they arenít muscular enough, and political activists who are deeply unsure of their beliefs.

Iíve seen people from travel blogs that remember their times getting afraid by the new culture around them, mathematicians who used to be anxious or bored around math, educators upset about no one ever thanking them and millionaires CEOs who are deeply insecure of their success.

Iíve seen world famous models who hate their appearance, professional and hobbyist philosophers who worry about the meaning of life, students who are upset over their lack of grades and religious people who believe they arenít following the spiritual standards they place upon themselves.

Not one single person was perfect.

I was taught this lesson over and over, but I never trusted it as deeply as now. . . when Iíve seen it for myself.

I donít know if it lasts, but today, I think Iím enough.

What if Iím lying to myself? What if Iím just here for attention? What if the trauma and other conditions my therapists diagnosed me is just a misconception? What if all the ideas of hurt and suffering over my entire childhood up to now isnít real and Iím just being butthurt? What if Iím just crazy? What if Iím just a monster? What if Iím just burdening people I know? Why am I so easily hurt?

I have a comfortable home. Enough food or water. A reasonable amount of support from people in real life and online.. Iíve researched mental health for years and I should have figured it out by now. Before I found out about the CPTSD, I was convinced I had no justifiable reason of why I was so hurt and in pain all the time ó and it still feels this way sometimes.

In my early life, I did attract abusers and it left a sense of distrust for others. But later on, I gained  this interesting habit of attracting genuinely nice people who want to help me. Well? Why? Because they said they liked me ó on which I canít fully recognize why or fully believe me.

But Iíve closed up to many of them. Distrusted them. Rejected them. Iím improving a lot, but as I distance from them, they distance from me. As if I was repeating the cycle of emotional neglect in some form again. This doesnít seem as bad as other peopleís situations though, and this distrust seems like itís all my fault and I could have just tried harder.

I seem to have this sense of perfectionism when it comes to relating to people sometimes. That I have to find at least one person who shares every joy or pain I have in something. Or even a need to have to relate to someone with everything.

I guess it has to do with how my mom treated me. She raised me like she would raise herself as a person ó with her own particular strengths, weaknesses, likes and dislikes. Iíd get the material needs I personally wanted like food or books, but in many other ways it seemed she never asked me what I really wanted. Maybe thatís why I feel I have to be the same as other people in every way to deserve to be loved and belong sometimes.

Other than . . . being probably the only teenager on this site and the effects of puberty, sure.

Iíve often gotten a need to be the same to my mom before to be cared for. But Iím a lot more naturally introverted, a lot more nerdy and analytic, a lot more quirky in expression with body langauge, a lot more easygoing in appearance than formal looking, a lot less practical and so on. Iíd get the need to be similar with others in many other ways, but it seems like the ones different from my own mom seem to be more of my sensitive point.

Anyone can relate or give me any insights about this?

Iíve been getting a little too solitary recently ó well, I tend to be solitary because Iím introverted. . . but now itís getting nearer to the extremes of the Freeze response.

I canít convince myself that people genuinely care and not just because ďthey have toĒ. Not because it would make them look better. And even the idea that people wonít reach out to me at all

There seems to be two people in my head. Thereís one that thinks I really need help, that Iím doing my best and that people will care to reach out. That I deserve encouragement, listening and nurturing, and people are free to offer so.

Then thereís another part of me that believed if I just pushed myself hard enough, I could do everything by myself and asking for help is a weakness. That in the the end, no one will ever truly believe or care for what I hope for, dream for, get afraid of or get depressed over. And If they actually do, they would abandon me someday because Iím a burden.


Whether youíre fight, fawn, freeze or flight, I ask of you to share what worked out for you. Not everything will work for everyone ó since everyoneís different but I hope thereíll be at least one thing that can work out for you ó the reader ó whoever you are.  :bigwink:

Iíll start. Iíve spent most of my trauma and after in freeze mode and flight mode so Iíll comment on that.

With freeze mode, other than the obvious thing of talking to someone or some people more ó even online, what helped me to see the benefit of friendships and community was finding stories about people who benefited from it ó whether real or fictional. I gave up on the idea of closeness or love, but finding stories like that inspired me to connect with people more.

Another was reading about the scientific benefits online ó not as much as a romantic fantasy, but considering how logical minded I tended to be, this helped. I didnít really care about others before and only made the effort to be warmer and to talk to people more because I wanted those benefits ó even if it had a selfish motive in the start, it turned into something more genuine and deep.

With flight mode, it helped to find people who did care about me. I was on flight mode with workaholism because I believed I wasnít worth something. The more others affirmed I was worth something when I showed them who I was inside ó the less I worked too hard.

Pete Walker pointed out in one of his books is that flight response people benefit from meditation which Iíve tried too, but aside from that, I also found benefits from other Eastern teachings. I noticed Western self help emphasized hard work, positive thinking and all that, but Eastern life advice often encouraged reflection, a gentleness in taking action and an acceptance rather than a rushing towards life.

Even without believing the supernatural beliefs such as reincarnation or karma, there are many teachings that could apply to people from every walk of life. Philosophies such as Buddhism or Taoism. You find teachers like this from googling ďEnlightened mastersĒ rather than life coaches. In the same extent, Stoicism (which is a Western philosophy) also encouraged similiar beliefs.

I hope thatís not too weird, but oh well.

Was there anything that helped you?

Sigh, itís only been about two days since my last difficult day post and this day is even more terrible than the other one. New record of feeling hurt these days ó Iíve regressed and I think Iím just pathetic for needing to come here more often. There are other people that deserve this help more than me?I usually type out a new post but since I feel like Iím on the brink of another breakdown of the many today if I extend my energy just a little bit more, Iíll just settle with copy pasting what I said in my journal.


I spent a lot of time grieving today. A lot of time crying. I know that Iím supposed to pace my emotions, but they just came rushing out. I donít know ó it seems all this new feelings of love awakened flashbacks of times when Iíve had utter hopeless and pessimism over the idea of the emotion. Not romantic love, but love with friendships and family. Believing that love was impossible. Believing no one could be trusted. Believing I didnít deserve love. Believing I was utterly worthless and useless to others due to my own weakness.

I donít know if this increased compassion would even do me much good. Canít help on solving problems logically when the potential of my own brilliance and curiosity is drowned out by EFs and my own hypervigilance. Canít help give support emotionally when my own heart is breaking from the stress. And Iím not really special in anything physically.

You know. . . Iíd love to analyze something relaxing. Whatís the difference between a stressful problem and a relaxing problem to solve to me you ask? Well, in a relaxing problem, I get to analyze it at my own pace my own way. I get to solve it because I truly am fascinated, not because Iím afraid of what happens if I wonít.

Sigh, if only every problem in my life was a problem like that.

Ah, man, and now Iím crying again. . . Why do I have to be so sensitive sometimes?

Oh my God.

Itís too much. So damn much.

I suppressed my empathy because my mom had taught me that kindness meant absolute obedience with her angeró and so I often did what I could to avoid it and do things alone. I suppressed it ó because I believed if I cared for others, I would have less time to think on how to solve my own distress myself objectively.

But now I feel a new range of connection, of love, of kindness the more I spend time on this forum. Iím grieving over not feeling this enough all these years. Iím overjoyed at the relief of feeling this. Iím in a panic of how confused I am around the nature feelings óhow desparately I want them to make sense.

 Iím terrified of the pain Iíll feel in feeling othersí pain more. I somehow feel a profound peace at a distress I didnít notice over my feelings being muted. Iím so hurt and angry that my parents didnít give me the environment for me to feel these. Iím dying of humilation of how Iím logically wise yet emotionally naive in the past and the present but at the same time find this utterly amusing.

I feel like Iím going to be ripped apart enough to explode with everything Iím feeling. The new feelings are so difficult to process that Iím going through massive mood swings ó and I havenít gotten those symptoms since the most difficult part of my recovery long ago.

I feel like Iím dying over panic. Help.

I usually try to avoid more than 1 long post for me today so others can get more of a turn, but I just canít sleep. I canít stop thinking about it.

Dear Inner Teen,

Iím angry at you. Iím not supposed to if I want to heal. But I am.

Itís easier for people to care when you have problems like ďbeing too niceĒ which allows some likability. Itís easier to sympathize when you couldnít have possibly chosen your situation at all ó like poverty. I know those are pretty horrible but I canít stop feeling it . . . , I had to end up with the situation that made people turn away from me ó get disgusted at me.

Before I knew that what people did to me was emotional abuse and what people did not do to me was emotional neglect ó I thought I was pathetic, because I had no clear external signs of unhappiness at all. My family was financially well off and sent me to one of the most expensive schools in the country but I didnít have the motivation to use it.

Well, thanks mom and dad for making me the archetype of the rich kid who gets what they materially want and barely enough love or guidance whatsoever. And my high status making my own suicidal thoughts look petty to me and some of the people I reached out to.

You had friends who clearly cared for youó but you could not feel any connection or trust in them and withdrew. You had intelligence but you couldnít be proud of it at all ó it was never enough to be accepted. You had hard work but you worked so hard, you physically collapsed regularly. You had great humor with others ó but you could never have made yourself genuinely laugh. You secretly despised others as much as yourself.

 Most of all, you lied in a way that looked so much much much better.

And most of all, you lied about being better than you were. It was so convincing ó you believed it yourself.

And it was breaking you. Because youíve been working on treating yourself in mental health for years often with hours a day and it never seemed enough.

To believe no one in the world would sympathize with you because of all this. . . to believe you were just pathetic ó because why would someone with so many opportunities be so damn broken? That was the worst thing ó the utter isolation of your own years long suffering never seemed justified enough before finding out about CPTSD.

You only got really better when someone bothered to listen to your own problems and treated them as valid.

Sigh. . . I canít be angry at you anymore. . .

I thought the guilt thing was more recent. I still feel oddly guilty for being less empathetic in the past even when people around me in real life and people here tell me Iím understanding and gentle. I remember being guilty for getting angry at my mom in my early teenage years when she had incredibly high standards for me ó and I was convinced it was all my fault.

But no. . . It seems it all began when I was even younger than that.  . . when I was around preschool or elementary. Sigh, Iím not going to sound like much of a good person back then, but hear me out.

My mom was a woman everyone saw as kind ó always doing favors, giving gifts and being overall kind. And she sought to form me in her image.

When I was joking and being casual with people, she often berated me for being funny with others. . . saying I wasnít being proper or serious. She would tell me to hug, kiss or smile at a relative at command and shout at me for lacking obedience to this. Iíd go around school doing different things and unknown to me and her at this time ó I had Aspergers (A social delay) ó and I couldnít tell why many things Iíve done were rude. And sheíd shout at all these little details without explaining why saying I was an embarassment.

I became more of a troublemaker to rebel. But inside Iíd be wrecked with guilt at all the things Iíve done morally wrong as my mom said they were ó othersí kindness touched me but I was convinced that kindness meant absolute blind absolute obedience to other people like my mom has shown me ó and I avoided it. I still flashback to that intense guilt today to the point of thinking I donít deserve any kindness or happiness sometimesó itís just . . . now I know which memories those feelings have come from. Iím not Catholic anymore, but I still sometimes feel like . . . Iíll go to * for any small sins.

But I donít know ó I guess thereís still a part of me that believes I should have been a perfect saint as a kid . That is always disciplined, always can read otherís emotions, always have perfect patience, always smiley, extroverted, somehow born with perfect knowledge of what makes things moral and so on. .

I hated her shouting you know as a kid . . . Utterly hysterical and absolutely irrational. Of no calm reasoning and expecting something as illogically stupid as blind obedience ó even with good intentions. I found the lack of objectivity disgusting. Thatís exactly why I hate it when I become just like that during flashbacks sometimes.

Maybe this is what Iím truly ashamed of.. Because Iíve been getting nicer to all the people around this forum and real life ó and when Iím kind, I feel like Iím becoming her ó hysterical, manipulative, irrational, stupid, blindly obedient and rushed.

Eh. . . Guess things donít always work out well, do they? I donít even think this was emotional abuse sometimes. . .It looks to me it was all my fault . . . Wasnít I just being petty? Sigh.

I want to lie. I thought Iíve got over this a long time ago. But now I want to again.

Iíve had lots of emotional neglect when I was younger and was often angered at for not crying. Because of this, I hid my emotions along with much of my hobbies, my thoughts, my feelings and my hopes. I had no one to turn to for my problems for most of my life.

I love daydreaming about being praised. Being listened to. And I like to turn my life into inspiration for something much more amazing sounding. But Iím not.

Iím craving to bury myself into work for more praise for my accomplishments. Iím craving to lie to look better. Iím craving being listened to even if what I type is paragraphs long. I canít stop thinking about it now ó all this from wanting more people to drop by my stupid journal.

I thought I had a good day, but now at the end of it, Iím craving for more and more yet I donít want to burden people with having to respond to me. My posts are long after alló because it feels like Iíve never heard enough. But I donít know ó I canít stop thinking about the days where I was an arrogant liar ó and I feel like Iím flashing back to the lack of attention Iíve received in my life and my despair around it.

And itís terrible. It feels terrible.

The Cafe / Why did you choose your signature?
« on: November 21, 2017, 10:53:03 AM »
I was inspired by SanMagicís post on asking why people chose their username and thought Iíd make another getting to know question.

Iíll post my own reason soon. But now Iím distracted by some interesting hobbies.

Haha. See ya.

Pages: 1 2 [3] 4 5