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"...this is now. I can choose differently." Definitely. Plus commitment to self; and then, equally important--re-commitment. I have journals filled with self-talk but the follow-through, commitment parts were extremely rough and hard to maintain. It helped me, if I could, to step out of feeling that it all had to be perfect.  I'd forget or ignore one huge commitment--to relax, as best I could (also...sigh...and oddly...difficult).

Perfectionism is one of my Inner Critic's favourite doors and when it opens, I'm doomed. It's drawn to the tension, it seems. So one can also choose to relax into the flow. It's something I found, forgot, and dearly miss--a trait I also learned via my improv theatre years--that ability to relax but still be fully engaged. When I had that, it seemed almost more perfect on the other side. Commit, re-commit, relax was my 3-part mantra.

Best to you 

Today I'm forever grateful for my therapist. She stayed with and gently, patiently laid out a challenge, allowing but also guiding me to find a way past a recent extreme crisis situation.

Honestly, words can never express what that means in my heart as I  rediscover life, and along with it rekindle the withering flame of hope from having nearly been  extinguished.

Jdog wrote: "...in the end, I will need to keep learning how to find myself over and over in this sea of uncertainty."

Yes, and the commitment is daily, as your tag line at the bottom of your posts reminds. I recently experienced a recurring depressive crisis where the overwhelm threatened me. I can't adequately explain where my mind took me without posting a trigger warning, so I'll back off the full skinny. Suffice to say it had me on an edge of hopelessness beyond despair.

While hoping the crisis will not pop in again, I now accept that it can, but resonate with your "keep learning" comment as a guidepost when it seems I'm veering off course again--but also without knowing any obvious new options. There might not be, or are hidden, and that's scary; then the challenge is to "fall in love with where you are", as a favorite author put it. Sometimes sudden unseen triggers collapse the careful safety net one has relied on. And even then, the tag below Amadahy's post--about the crack allowing the light in--is most apropos.

Thanks, Jdog. What you say, about commitment and (re)learning--that's how it's done.

I know of a high school that presents a new t-shirt each year to the entire student body. The plain and softly coloured shirt features a single word on the front, and on its back a short additional script related to the featured word. This year's word-theme struck a chord with me, as I'm experiencing some pretty deep therapy which recently witnessed my feelings sink lower than I ever thought they could.

So when I heard about this year's shirt, and compared it with what I still need to overcome--well, it lifted me a fair bit; enough to where I feel like I want to incorporate its message into my own re-parenting process. Sometime it's called recovery, for lack of a better term; even if it seems like a dim, flickering, almost extinguished sense of any real hope. Even the term recovery is suspect--if I never experienced love, for instance, what would I be returning to, recovering? As often happens, I've digressed a bit, a sign of my hyper-alert panicky trait of needing to explain myself to myself, let alone to others. So back to the shirt story.

The front of this year's shirt bears this word: WONDER. The back reads this way: Be Amazed, Be Curious, Be Creative. This may have been issued for a few hundred teens, but it's totally what my Inner Child needs to hear, too.

I like to play with words, and when I look at this one again, I find it an inspiring message to consider. Then it hit me-- --wonder can be modified to wonderful and further transformed into WONDER-FULL.  With that, I think I can begin to pull myself out of where I've been lately. I may not be recovering anything, but perhaps I can discover something even better.

Hang on--Inner Critic is pounding at the door..."let me in, you idiot! Fantasizing again, eh? Trying to change the very words we all use...Hah! Everyone knows that's bucking the world the way it's supposed to be, dreamer that you are...and..." I SLAM THE DOOR AND LOCK IT...and grin at the sudden peace that fills my being. Standing up to the Inner Critic...for me, that's huge! And wonder-full.

I normally choose not to comment on recovery journals; to me they're a work-in-progress and it seems like intruding on the flow to check in with outside commentary. But something you said is very familiar to me, so with your forbearance I just wanted to relate.

You said: "I have also pretended to be asleep at other times, too. Is it just a weird way to get alone time, or representative of some other form of escape?" Definitely not weird, based on my experience, and probably indicative, as you suggest, of that elusive escape some of us needed. That pretend demeanour can do the trick when desperate, but it also can become habitual as one gets familiar with doing it.

I also did this as a kid when stuff got rough around me. When I became an improv actor as an adult, this learned trait served me well on many occasions. And there are times when I still fall into that mode almost automatically, especially in a stressful situation with no other practical escape.

Despite my social side, the inner private self is secretly petrified of people, whether I know them or they're strangers. And so I can close down rapidly, even with eyes open. I've even (not on purpose) startled people when I'd slightly move; have even received the comment of "Oh...we thought you were a statue." And depending on where I am (a museum, say), the blend is actually that perfect.

But I know the why, and your description was very familiar. So I wanted to chime in with how this has shown up in my life.

Thanks.

I have similar trigger feelings, but in a broader age range (mostly from around 3-4 to late teens) and a variety of abusive people around me--parents, siblings, teachers, and bullies controlled by the teachers. Unfortunately, with that wide a range the potential for triggers is huge.

So when I see truly loving interactions occurring, I can forget to breathe in a moment of awe. This can cycle from having uncomfortable, awkward feelings at first, a twinge of sadness next, and maybe a touch of envy. This stems from the 'comparison game' of encountering something nice that I was denied. In some cases, though, it can move on to admiration tinged with more awe that loving relationships of that sort really exist. Once I can take the 'me' out of the picture I'm seeing, it gets easier. 'Good for them'  is my take-away. It helps me refocus out of the protective bubble I exist in during social interactions of that type.

It's hard to get past the memories that clog up the mind's dusty cobwebs, but beautiful when one can re-orient the feelings. It seems that a key, for me at least, is getting out of the self stance, out of my own way, beyond the bubble. Sadly, far easier said than done. But it can happen, and that's the hope and a big chunk of the recovery journey, it seems.



 

Outstanding thread...thank you, write-to-life.

...It takes courage and strength to get out of one's storyline, one's definition of self (victim, seeker, low/no self-esteem, etc.).

...It takes courage to step outside the box of compulsive or socially approved ways of being.

...It takes strength to accept the notion that pain, sadness, and deep grief can be invitations to life, and courage to resist the urge to just run away.

...It takes courage to buck the notion that happiness equals unfettered ease and constant smooth sailing.

...It takes strength to live beyond regret and fear; and to recognize the inherent beauty of what once seemed so broken.

Thanks for the comments on this so far... It's giving me encouragement to tackle a perplexing problem I've had with fully expressing anger as a part of therapy. But, as Boatsetsailrose reminds..."Fear can't harm you ( though it masquerades that it can). Just taking it one day at a time and being kind to ourselves is key."

Angering remains foreign territory for me. It's fair to say I've been carrying anger around as a 'normal' state forever. While relief may be a byproduct of angering, I don't really think the goal can be to totally eliminate the anger or ever fully escape from it, either. The mind will make sure the anger hangs around  in one form or another. In one sense the presence of anger may even be a good reminder of the often painful path I've traveled already. Seeking to EXPRESS the anger safely is the  challenge I'm willing to dive in for.

Over the years, I've tried some of the methods suggested in this thread, and while all released some of the anger, I never felt wholly satisfied that I'd even made a dent in what's coiled up inside. That may not move; but my attitude might still have hope to find peace via more conscious angering, as Walker suggests.

My own attempts have ranged from writing to burning slips of paper (with notes about people or incidents that hurt me), to mentally venting some good tirades (often in response to nasty inner voices). My living situation is ideally suited to venting loudly, yet it still seems odd to do that--it might disturb the pets, and 'murphy's law'--what can go wrong probably will--has me fearing that someone might be out in the woods and hear me, judge me, etc., adding a shame layer on top of an already fragile psyche.

This increase in shame  happened once before, although not around here. Along the lines of more formal anger release, I once was in a group doing self-discovery processes. We were encouraged to practice swinging a plastic bat against the floor, a technique that seemingly produced good vibes for other participants, so I decided to give it a go as well. But when I did, it backfired big-time, and my Inner Critic had a field day as the anger I was generating I turned on myself. Not a good scene; and I felt in 'shame city' for quite a spell afterwards.


My best anger outlet was a byproduct of my backwoods life--chopping wood! It's amazing how the power one puts into splitting wood can, even inadverdently, be a good form of release, not to mention good for the body in general. I was once a master woodsplitter, but now don't heat with wood, for several reasons. Oh, one other instance I'll mention--I know this sound totally off-the-wall for many, but I once learned how to throw a tomahawk at a target. Like really good! And that of course can equal wood-splitting in releasing body tension, if not full angering in the sense Walker talks about. Maybe I need to restore my chopping block, even if I don't truly need it for heating the place anymore. Hmmm...perhaps I also need a dart board?

So I've had occasion to release but, except for the natural wood-split/hawk-throwing inadverdent stuff, I have--as was noted, not felt safe in doing so--safe in the sense that I truly felt valid anger expression, especially with someone else. Maybe it's strange, but I feel like I need a supportive witness to validate any anger release; despite my bad group experience.

Finally having found a very skilled therapist, I'm hoping to work out a safe route to practice effective angering with her. We're using some of the Walker material as a sort of backdrop to some of our sessions. But for the angering, I've reached the point where I feel I want to/need to truly break loose at least a chunk of the 'armour' and go from there. Loads of tears have helped, but the full angering expression remains elusive.  Her office is within a medical centre, there's other folks in the hallways, and...it doesn't feel quite safe but...who knows, I still need to bust loose of this anger jam. Circling back to my original post in this thread, just wondering if anyone else has had the 'with therapist' experience and did it make a difference?

"I don't want to be perfect. I want to be real."  ...Jeff Foster
     

Fen Starshimmer, the incident you describe is sadly a reminder of how sinister even the most innocent-seeming (to others) atmospherics can affect people with cptsd. Canned music and other sounds/vibes in general is hard to avoid, and often there is no choice on the part of the listener. Adding insult to injury, a fair number of us are already hyper-vigilant and sensitive to our 'soundscapes' as a result of what we've survived.

Not that we need to shrink in fear of what lurks out there, but becoming more aware of our trigger points seems prudent to help us avoid some of the pitfalls of 'just being human'. Just in a general sense, the use of presenting life as needing a soundtrack and inflicting it on others is disrespectful to many more than only cptsd people as well.

Double kudos  to your t and yourself for seeing into what really happened. Thanks especially for taking the vulnerable stance of sharing this here; and congrats    for finding at least one alternative so far--may you find some more as well.

Thanks   

[Now]

2Spirits asked: "How did you manage your childhood history, did you try to find out about it, did it help you when you tried?
Or did you just concentrate on the present? How did you accept your symptoms?"

Tracing it all, in my story, would be very grueling. The abuses themselves involved multiple sources--FOO yes, but also overlaid with heavy grief via 12 years of religious schooling and it all blurs together at times. Accepting the blurring without worrying about the specifics anymore seems key, although some hidden memories still float in if I'm not careful. Slowly I'm learning, though, that I can allow them, too; not fight them, as that just brings on floods of agony piled on the old wounds. Sometimes I rue having a fairly decent memory, but that can be a handy inlet for the inner critic with its self-blame games.

I somehow survived the first storms, and completely removed myself from the FOO by literally moving, as soon as I could, a fair distance away into a pretty isolated region, following that by moving even further away. I was lucky, though, to fall into a career early on, one with minimal economic security but that dramatically boosted what remained of a shaky, despairing self. The career helped immensely, but I didn't know how temporary that relief would be, and all the symptoms kept rekindling on their own, despite the career to which I devoted so much time and energy. Now in my 60's and retired, the past still hovers near and haunts me.

Finding out more once I feel recovered enough to even pick up the pieces has been grueling, aided though by having physically removed myself from the scenes of agony. But the emotional side remained a mess (covered by the career for many years). My memories of specifics tend to dwell, of course, on the more dramatic incidents, but there's an underlayer that kind of blends together like a nasty, messy glue. When I still foolishly try to pan for more memories--yuk!  It's sheer chaos for my already embattled psyche.

The parents and many of the holy crowd are deceased, though my 2 much older siblings are still around. I rarely see them, and only if they make a point to find me. The youngest, I rightly sensed I was unwanted by the parents and that was reinforced by the siblings. The b eventually encountered his own * in war; while I have some sympathy there, nothing ever covers over the emotional divide. The s rightly senses that she'd best be accompanied, if she does visit (last time 12 years or so ago) by one of her kids (as a shield, it seems). Both b and s were highly abusive to me. I do get the requisite school reunion sorts of invites (despite my request to be removed from alumni lists), but avoid them as well (many of the teachers have passed but the bullies are still around).

What I've concluded, finally, is that the past story can be considered to have run its course. It's like that movie was shut off long ago, I've left the theatre, and while I recall the heavy tragedy of the plot, I no longer scratch and claw to find out what all happened, although I'm still wary of hidden memories that do resurface in some of the therapy I've been doing.

Most of this more deliberate cleansing has only come about within the last couple of years, and I continue to shut down all the wondering in favour of the present, writing/living the script for the new movie. I've found out I can neither fully forget nor truly find all the specifics, and don't want to--anger and tears are fierce remnants, but also provide relief.

Another important part involves some sort of external support--friends or therapy. Now friendless (my closest all died a couple years ago), I'm fortunate to have found a talented therapist to help me travel along the road back to the Now movie.

 

Elizabeth Jack wrote: "Every thing I do on this site even, and every other interaction, or non interaction, I feel like it's being scrutinized, and judged."

That's 100% how I am. Part perfectionist, true. Part fantasy, maybe. But for sure it's all built on fear that my every word is subject to rejection, and go down the list from there.

It's probably good that it can be recognized, which doesn't do diddly to dim the (mostly) self-inflicted pressure. I sense the critics lurking, and the judgements will be harsh, says the mind. Followed to its logical(?)  conclusion: I'm no good and can't get with it. It hurts, yet it's so ingrained it's doubly hard to deflect, let alone be rid of.

My rejection bulb is now flashing its warnings, and the thought police are at the ready; so I must stop before the grinning inner critic adds the guilt back in to this already tangled mess.

[Apatheism]

Hi, Elizabeth Jack...

When I first saw this thread, I avoided it, but just poked into it a little today. Thanks for the trigger alert--religion is pretty rough water for my psyche to handle. I'll try and explain.

While I should stop before I get carried away (admittedly I did that on some old rant-laced posts), suffice to say I was in an abusive church/school situation right through my high school years. Abusive? Mild word, in the context of what I experienced there. Afterwards, I explored a variety of spiritual/philosophical takes  (mostly to prove them wrong), and while I found tolerance for certain x-tian groups and approaches, I finally concluded that none of it applied to my life's path anymore. Good deal--I could dare to breathe. 

Oddly, the early abuse actually boosted my sense of humour. About the only comfort I found was by running little inside scripts (silent of course) in my head about the abusers. These 'mind-plays' In turn probably helped develop an instinct for improvising ways to deal with what was going on. Later on I chiseled out a partial career in improv theatre, aided in part by those reactions. So my first experience in that field was honed within the firestorm of abuse from people wearing clerical garb and hiding their hypocrisy behind self-satisfied leers that I've only seen from the falsely devout.

While a part of me 'made lemonade out of lemons', I have nothing but contempt for the 'gifts' of what I had to endure in the process.

In the end my chief survival tool was twisting them into comic characters. It soothed the horror a bit, but it also reinforced a pattern of intense cynicism that had set in. I rather enjoy watching hypocrites antics, actually, especially at a distance; but it still brings an instant cringe, too, at all the horrors those people are capable of behind their walls of sanctity.

I do, however, have a religion. Mine is called Apatheism--which even has an entry on Wikipedia! . The combo words reflect my take on the whole game--I'm apathethic regarding anyone who feels a pull towards religion or its practices. I rather like church architecture and some of its music myself--ignoring the theology (theo-illogical being my term).

While I once had an automatic triggered reaction to the mere mention of religion, I've known enough people who seem comforted by it and find that it gives their life meaning to have altered my harsh take on religion a small tad. I'm better at seeing that now, decades after the original horror show I was in. But here's the difference--yes, I'm apathetic and don't give a twit about anyone's beliefs, doctrines, etc., until it crosses the line into rants and intolerance, power and control.

Just my own experience; and cool--I got through expressing a view without slipping into an angry rant myself, even though I know there's lots of it left in the tank.

Sienna, this means a lot, especially coming from you. 

These emotional lows come and go, but its staying power seems stronger than either, and it wears one down...that's where I've arrived, and it feels regressive even if it might not actually be so. What an oddity--wanting to feel more alive and yet, this is what I do feel. Go figure. My emotional hurt doesn't match my rational inclination to realize that yes, it's all part of being vulnerable; but it still seems full of more pain, too. Or is it too much to expect some relief at least some of the time?

Thanks for the support--sometimes I get the feeling that some see there's a post from 'woodsgnome' and assume it'll be wordy, full of questions instead of answers, wondering instead of knowing, and out-of-the-box . It's true; I tend to do that, I think, and it probably contributes to my feeling misunderstood. My ultra-sensitivity runs amok threatening to heap the inner critic's viewpoint onto the pileup of emotions.  It's all so confusing...yet supposedly  'good'? 

Thanks again!!!

Today I realized that...

...hope is just another concept designed to keep the treadmill's occupants steadily spinning in circles, progressing towards...more concepts (recovery, steps, movement)...arriving again...back at hope. Somehow it seems further away but 'they' say it's there, just ahead (again)...the steady pace on the treadmill becomes just another reluctant step, and...