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Convalescent,

It was wonderful to see your observations here again. And I don't know if you were conscious of it, but I noticed some imagery associated with your return.

Your slew of entries yesterday--December 21--coincided with the Winter Solstice, marking the return of more light to a world desperately needing it. Even though there's always dark days that find their way in, the return of more light has rightly been associated with at least the potential for better times.

Happy Solstice!!!

                    

                     

Finding "it", for 1/2 hour or for 2 or 252 minutes, whatever...it's a feeling that can't be beat. 

So here's to more, soon, but always whole and complete. Actually, you're/we're already whole and complete, but we've had lots of bumps en route, is all. Like heavy overcast skies with only hints of the sun, but they count too.

Congratulations and here's to more "right out of the blue" times ahead.

Hi, Convalescent  .

It's always good to see you here. You expressed the thought so many of us share--about wanting to "shut down and not relate". I hear you, and also recognize the notion that apparently "it doesn't work like that."

Know this, though--you've shown via your posts here that you have a depth of being that can, and does, relate; in ways you probably don't even recognize. You don't see it. Maybe, like so many of us, it takes someone else who's on the trail with you to remind you of your ability to relate.

You once responded to something I'd said by asking me "what does it feel to be on the other side" of recovery. But it's always ongoing, for me...as to that "other side" I haven't a clue. Some days it feels good, and I feel further down the road towards it; but the other days...you know what I mean.

Keep trekking, friend...your steps to recovery are ever closer than you may realize. Whatever it's called, though, you've shown amazing recovery powers of your own, right here, right now, via the words you've shared. They may only seem as words on a screen, but I feel as if I see a huge heart every time you share the load. And I hope this helps a tad to make that load seem lighter. 

I too feel like a full-time resident of "shame college" but it would be nice to "graduate" someday.

For my first 20 years, the f, the m, all the teachers at awful religious schools (everyone--even the bus drivers, etc), shame may as well have been my name. I'm still shocked when I realize how deep it was; how endemic and mindless. For sure it's cptsd inducing.

Performance anxiety is the only area I've had much luck with. For years I was a "living history" actor, a role I fell into; but once there, found out I was good and it became a specialty of mine in which I achieved lots of recognition. Which is alright, but once the role is over, it's lights out and I'm gone, back to my shame memories and my urge to hide away from it all again.

Even in my success with performance, I recognize my tendency to obsess over the tiniest flaws in the "how did I do" category. Others were amazed, too, at how much unneeded stress I put on myself and how I'd put myself down. It was like I hated myself, so even in something I was so good at I'd beat myself up over it. 

Thanks for posting this, Sesame. On a related note, is it any wonder that so many cptsd survivors seem so introverted? It was the only available survival tool we could find. Nothing inherently wrong with that, but of course the trap is finding a reasonable level of everyday functioning. Sometimes I find it hard to call a store and ask what hours they're open, as I'm that afraid of judgements--even from strangers.

[One's SELF]

Thanks, VeryFoggy.

Your observations are wonderful pointers to the task of mixing what we learn from others (e.g. Walker) and demonstrating how one person--One's SELF--was able to build a road to recovery that inspires everyone to realize their own route to recovery.

You described what needs to happen so well: "...maybe no one can tell you how to do it, because maybe it really is a personal journey each of us must take alone. But I feel strongly there must be some commonality in the steps that one must take..."

Your viewpoints are a treasure, as they come from someone who has struggled mightily with all the ins/outs of a truly complex mindscape (or 'minefield', as it were). Many of us feel like giving up, but something keeps us moving and, hopefully, together as we progress toward finding our inner peace and healing.

You expressed this wish: "I am glad if what I wrote had a little bit of meaning for you." Indeed it has, VeryFoggy. More than a little! What you've been able to take from your experience and share with this forum cannot be underestimated--it is exactly why many of us are here.

It's a confusing and often wearisome trek to figure any of this out; to not just survive, but eventually to thrive. I appreciate the deep insights you've already shared and look forward to more from you.

Thanks again.

Tesscaline, it might sound trite or simplistic, but as you say, "I've been seeking help"...so the most important step you needed to find has been taken. It's rarely a sprint to the answers we'd like to find from that first venture into the dark, but you've had the courage to take it.    Some never get even that far. 

Trouble is, all the next steps are scary, too...but one will never make it without accepting them as well. Always the questions seem daunting and can bring on more fear, but oddly it seems the only way. Some call this "living the questions". Yet it's especially disheartening after, as you say,
"I thought, for a long time, that I had my illness managed and that I was doing well at healing." 

We might even be pleasantly surprised at what we discover, once we get past that first hesitant step. I've experienced an intriguing twist in repairing some of my inner child's needs recently. It's a long story so I won't bore you with the details, but it rather shocked me (in a good way) as to how it happened and how it improved my sense that maybe--just maybe--I can stumble into something else as helpful as that was. 

You've shown the willingness and strength to step onward. So take that as a huge plus as your journey unfolds.       

[why]

Your sentiments echo what I often feel; that no one hears me and no one cares anyway--which probably has more to do with my endless self-doubt than any reality. I've stood on my head  trying to unlearn this fear, but that too seems so futile so often.

My sense is that there's loads of introverts on here, and that also speaks as to the why of some of the non-responses. Even natural extroverts would be driven to the i side given what we've experienced.

I've posted far more than I thought I would or could here, but each time I do the fear of putting my puny self out there echoes your own writer's inner critic feedback loop. I shrink back in fear when there isn't a response as well--it's like my input is sure to kill a topic, or offend, or be misunderstood. That's probably not true; but I do, as jdog hints, take it personally...it's a habit. Illogical, but we easily trend in that direction; it was what we mistakenly absorbed from our early circumstances.

What you wrote in the other thread re/impostors echoes how I feel about what I timidly choose to share here. You said: "...as soon as I start comparing myself to others I feel myself sagging. How can a soggy empty paper bag be a writer?"

I feel bad here, as I was immediately drawn to what you wrote in those posts but didn't want to "impose" right away as I feel like what effect do I have, etc., ad infinitum--lately this has been weighing heavily on me, and I'm very down on myself (my "normal" get outta here, fade away feeling  ). 

I'm sorry if you felt put out by the lack of responses. Interestingly, sometimes I notice threads from a year back suddenly reappear when a new person stumbles on a previous posting from way back and feels they can add something to the discussion. Perhaps even the original poster for a topic has moved on for some reason, as was the case with the impostor thread itself--it started long ago, but here we are still building on it. It struck a chord, and one never knows when that might happen.

Based on what your early writings indicate, your experiences and thoughts are needed here.   

In part 1 of this thread, I wrote about how I literally created a new life, in response to my early cptsd (not labeled as such at the time). And I did alright, built up a life that helped assuage some of the grief, but I still feel like what Puffyface said:

"...it's like I'm living someone else's life. Someone who's better than I can possibly be. And then I make a mess of it." In my case, I pretty much obliterated the 'previous life', got away  from the sorts of people and the circumstances that hurt me. I know that saved me from the immediate * I needed to escape, but I also can't shake loose from the numb feeling that I'm an actor in someone else's life, just as Puffyface has described.

But it's also a cruel push-pull of wanting/not wanting. And I have no idea what to do anymore.   

   

Accessing the inner child is an area I've been drawn to, but I've had some difficulties that have blocked my previous attempts to find a comfortable way to work with it. I've written letters to "him", notes, etc., and never seemed able to break through.

My problem in a nutshell—every time I access or reach the inner child, the negative associations of his early life seem to overwhelm. The abuses, the people, etc.; all the  circumstances which fed my cptsd symptoms soon crowd out the inner child and I despair, get frustrated and angry when all the old stuff reappears too, leaving me (and him) in the lurch, so to speak. Sometimes it feels like I'm getting there, and then one of these "side-bars" seem to interfere. Instead of the child I'd like to access and befriend, I just see this forlorn, miserable, despondent fellow and his mood overtakes my own. And so I'd give up, yet again.

Recently, though, I've hit on a different approach to finding him. And it involves rescuing him, taking the devastated kid ("me") out of that environment entirely. Bringing him into my world--now--which after all is the only place either of "us" can hope to live out our true destiny. It builds on multicolour's notion of bringing the future self into play. And here in the middle is the present self, able to draw from both sides, and clear my mind of its distractions.

So I guess that's a way out of something that's bothered a lot—my inability to access the inner child in a meaningful way without revisiting so much of the pain that I see when I "visit" him in that other world.

Like so much of this, we cope via these unique individual approaches. However we do it, it does seem something that can be beneficial; reaching that inner child world to better function now, resolving at least some of that leftover grief we drag with us.

Many thanks  to those who've contributed their thoughts on this.

Convalescent,

Your life is more than okay...it's magnificent. I didn't say your circumstances are or ever were ideal -- but YOU, as you, are; and deep down, always have been.  And those circumstances can be worked with; and they'll reflect the good person you are, and always have been.

Thank you for being here, for sharing, and for your honesty. For being YOU--all the time, wherever you are, wherever you go, and know there are those here who support your every step.

                     

The m has been gone from the world for almost 50 years yet my score hit 90, all sizzling red in the recap.

            

Stunned a bit; so much for "time will heal". The good is it's all only memory; the bad is the memories are still so overwhelming, and the results on my current life still so hopelessly obvious .  I guess it just shows how long after this can drag one's spirit down.

Good questions, Bimsy.  Thank you.

First, you wondered about the empty upstairs: "maybe it has to stay empty since we never know what is going to happen?" Yes/no, it seems. Subsequent dreams had 'me' entering the empty space, and it was different each time...and always like the upstairs led to or had been replaced by an open sky. Reminds me of a performance stage, and the scenes/acts rotate in and out; unlike the stationary/historical (hysterical?) setting found on the lower floor.

Regarding waterfalls, I've come to regard them (in my dreams and/or waking daydreams) as thoughts cascading down. Like a waterfall, you can't stop the thoughts, even or especially the negative ones. And, if you try to stop the waterfall (emotions or thoughts) it can overwhelm you. At the bottom the water might pool up and muddy the mind...or you can let them flow on, break up a dam if you have to, and eventually the water finds its way to the ocean. Kinda like reaching the open sky in the other scenario.

[you]

If only all this was easy, eh? 

It's always implied that we are solo, solitary pieces of machinery and it should all fit together efficiently and solidly. We're told this over and over--from scientific, religious, political, therapeutic, and even advertising sources. We hope these will help us get a grip on our confusion. Doesn't always work out that way, but luckily we have our own internal messaging that we can, albeit often don't, turn to.

In your acceptance of the "characters", Obscured, you've probably stepped out beyond that notion of unity within personality. And that's perfectly fine, and human. It takes loads of self-realization to get to this point.

Whether full understanding results is an unknown but observing and accepting even the not-so-likeable parts of ourselves seems like a crucial step. Even if we don't always like what we find. Plus, as with so much of this recovery work, we need to balance even the seemingly disconnected stuff.

As you say, "the goal of my therapy is to somehow integrate them all into a cohesive whole." Actually, this may already have happened, in a way, by your recognition of the parts. The 'cohesive' piece remains elusive, but it's a work-in-progress. Patience and self-compassion bode large as you journey with all of 'you' to you.

I'm a daydreamer from way back. Big, little, medium fantasies; lots of them clearly identified with cptsd symptoms, but many that are not so easy to categorize. And I'm not sure they aren't supposed to be a part of my reality.

Daydreams and fantasies seem quite natural for everyone, with or without cptsd. There are whole industries built on stories—novels, movies, TV and movies, etc. So there's lots of daydreams going on.

They might be a problem if we hide in them (I often do), but they can also be the source of music, art, and writing. The world of daydreams is often the start of all those stories read and viewed by so many people. They might start from dissociation, but they can also transform and create connections with others.

With regard to cptsd, it seems natural to daydream; just to cope and build a means for survival. When I see or remember cruel, mean things or people, you bet I tend to fantasize (a pity if I only have that option, but I'll take it as a needed part of my recovery).

Irish playwright George Bernard Shaw once said: "You see things; and you say 'Why?' But I dream things that never were; and I say 'Why not?'." It's natural to seek a better way, and via daydreams we can sense those things that never were, and dream about making them part of our reality.

I think we can, as rig6859 put it, "be present and believe my outer world can be the same or better than these daydreams." Perhaps the daydream can help inspire and frame the reality we'd like to be a part of. The daydreams, even if they stem from abuse, can potentially point us towards the recovery we're desperately searching for.

Thanks so much  for sharing your dream, Bimsy. While there are dozens of theories about what dreams mean or represent, in the end each of us is free to connect with what seems important, to figure out what's sometimes apparent, while at other times the insight comes only after a bit of reflection.

Your cave reminded me of a recurring set of dreams I've had. The setting is always a house with an empty upstairs (my cave). For a long time I left it at that--my dream character/"me" knew the empty portion was there, but for a long time resisted finding out why it was so. I thought along the lines of "oh, shucks, I'm missing something; I'm not complete, there's all this empty space not filled  ".

Part of my negative reaction may have stemmed from the memory of a relatively empty upstairs attic I retreated to as a youth when the life downstairs became too much to bear and the upstairs attic became my place to cry it out in.

Until in one dream, the "me" character took a chance and investigated the mysterious upstairs in the dream house. Not sure why, but it seemed to finally be okay to investigate, although the dream "me" was still cautious.

Long dream(s) short, I found a stunning message in the emptiness...I found it spacious instead of confining, pointing to possibility, not lack. So, that's why there was the emptiness.  It represented my hopes, my journey beyond the despair left downstairs.   

I also note your waterfall metaphor. I had another series of dreams where I was chased by the abusers of my youth. I was in a canoe, and finally escaped and found peace...at...a...waterfall! I've incorporated waterfalls, and that incredibly beautiful "empty" space, into parts of my recovery process, built around other metaphors for journeying, like candle-lanterns, canoe trips, etc.

This new outlook, still a work-in-progess, started with dreams...simultaneously I'd had some ferocious nightmares; but I can always remember the dreams of hope and possibility, so your dream with its cave/waterfall/sacred space references reminded me to stay on track with what I've been learning. There's many signs from my life that all is lost; but now I can sense I've no need to wallow in them, either.

Again, thank you!