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Here's to finding more of the calm you need and deserve in your life, Hope. Sometimes it can feel so hopeless; I hope you continue unrolling the map towards a future filled with healing.

Hey PC -- good to see you finding good vibes with the IFS approach. I have to confess that my first reaction some years ago to the word "Family" in its title through me for a loop. It's just kind of an automatic recoil I experience at the word family, even when it's not referring to the FOO per se.

While I admire the system and its practitioners, I've never felt the need, at this time in my therapeutic meanders, to dive deep into it.

I wish you all the best as you explore and discover new ways to lessen the internal pressures your Cptsd experiences left you struggling with. And huge congrats  for sticking with its promise to positively affect your outlook.

It still seems so odd, this cultural 'norm' about naturally loving one's parents, no matter what.  Along with the forgiveness at all costs trap, where to forgive in a certain accepted way is all important. It feels almost as if, okay, as it's a cultural norm, go ahead and dive in, even if it's just a meaningless, almost stupid, endeavour. That all seems less about love than just performing an act that seems nice, yet meaningless in real life.

I feel totally ambivalent about the parents now, and have come to regard my time with them as just a temporary journey where we somehow ended up on the wrong bus together. Fortunately the trip ended, with no forgiveness, and no love lost, as there hadn't been any that I ever felt. Now driving my own bus, I've found more loving ways to live, so don't miss the old trip. Sadly, I still can resent it, hate it, but none of it involves hatred, just a wounded ambivalence.

I find it disappointing how many therapists and self-help gurus seem to fall in line with their peers who play the 'it's-your-own-fault' game. One noted author has made a name for herself by labelling people like us as living in their own self-made 'woundology', as she calls it. From there it's just one small step to the 'just get over it' taunt we know so well. Blaming the victim, yet again. And yet I've read others who rave about her brilliance at having come up with this sort of insult disguised as brilliant self-help.

I once obtained a book with a most promising title -- 'The Spiritual Advantages of a Wounded Childhood' (or something along those lines). The author's first chapter's theme -- you must always forgive. Maybe the rest of the book turned out okay, but I immediately tossed it away and haven't seen it since.

So I guess I'd never score well in the forgiveness game. Maybe it's because I don't see it as meaning much, if anything in most instances. Doesn't mean I hew to the hatred 'opposite' of love. I'm fine with remaining ambivalent and living this life, not the one before. Uh-oh; maybe that means I'm just living in a state of 'wounology'? Even there, my preference is for a chuckle instead of a rant (see above for that LOL).   

Inner child work is but one of so many, many approaches to the basic quandary -- can something I find there jar me to be more 'me' now? Or something that will improve the funk felt about the childhood bit in all of this mysterious journey called life.

Maybe it's even the label that's troubling (it is to me). More work; what -- yet again? It's already been so hard, and working more will help turn the corner towards contentment?

Well, for some -- the answer is definitely yes. For others, no; and for some, it's kind of a mixed bag. For years that was the problem I had, trying to get into a place and time that really no longer exist in our reality. Ah, but we're more than just nuts and bolts reality we can measure. We all have imaginations built=in to the reality.

I remember once when I was thinking I might find ooking into this a bit useful. Somehow, either via dream or heightened imagination, I found myself in an old house (guess who's). The only 'person' I could relate to in this litte vision was a very sad, lonely mid-teen, who was in the basement, in the process of burning his high school yearbook. Not only did it just dredge up horrible recent (for him) memories of bullying and emotional terror in that book, there even one pic of the boy and it reflected a mournful downcast visage of a boy who wished he could get out of the world, somehow/someway/anyway.

I watched him burn the pic in the firepace, then decided to risk making friends with him. Startled at first, he slowly grasped that this adut -- me -- wanted to help him. The adult 'me' in that vision instinctively just asked the boy if he was up for some fun (which was definitely what my younger 'self' would have liked. He obliged and indicated he was willing to go with me. An ESCAPE; even if, of course, it was entirely imaginary and i was seeing it in my modern character.

Okay, so in these visions I always seem to be traveling on water, this time via a canoe. I beckoned the youth to come with if he wanted something different, and he was more than intrigued. "He came with, to my place in the woods, and has been at peace ever since. Okay, yes it was a vision and no, I don't regard his as being a 'real' and current presence in my life.

I'm only telling of my one try at the child part process or whatever it's called. Which brings up another approach I use in regard to it -- instead of inner child 'work' I prefer to know it as inner child 'play'. Childhood is supposed to include play, the character 'I' was back then had little play, lots of stress, and at least he got that one canoe trip in. Actually, his adult self -- 'me' -- was and is very oriented to canoes and that sort of thing.

Okay, whew -- long enough, eh? And please, know that I'm not disagreeing or diminishing the help that the processes included in FST and other approaches are not valid; they just didn't follow any set order in my case. Then again, I've always been a bit of an outlier when it comes to precisely following certain ideas about the mess of emerging from a lifetime of Cptsd and its aftershocks to the system.

I'm talked out  for the moment. May your childhood discoveries result in at least some playful ways for you if you choose to delve into that subject more thoroughly. Who knows -- maybe you'll end up re-engaging with several 'child' parts again -- if you do, I'm sure this might reflect their imaginative place in your heart ---- 

*** Trigger alert: slight SA reference in first paragraph

First, I'm very skittish around issues of touch. I presume lots of this may stem from SA molestations endured for 9 years from the m (too uncomfortable to refer to her as anything but m).

Moving on, yes I eventually found some touch to be okay, but also noticed it usually had litte if anything to do with the usual pop sexuality categories. Seems most of my attraction (I'm a guy, btw) came/comes about from a person's intellectual side, i.e. what makes them tick -- their mind, emotional maturity, general outlook, that sort of thing (for starters).

The term for this is sapiosexuality, and any physical appeal fades in relation to interests beyond the usual assumptions. Conversation, educational sorts of activities, and musical exchange is more important to both parties.

What has bothered me a lot over the years is what I'll call gratuitous hugging. In particular, if it comes from a "well-meaning" sort who may know about my early and subsequent background of traumas (not only SA).

Especially, I'm recalling one person who seemed safe enough. We shared lots of mutual intrigues but once she learned just a couple tidbits of my previous traumas it was like the floodgates opened, and the hugs came pouring on, in force and feeling hypocritical and manipulative as time went on. Finally I could stand no more of this gratuitous sort of over-the-top approach and pulled away from what had seemed okay.

Something else I've noticed all along, with all touch, is how it makes me wary to the point of being afraid, very disappointed, but trying hard to not make it worse by blaming myself.

Just to type these few words has been a bit edgy for me, but the subject of touch always seems to seep some bad vibes into my being.

Now, I'll try posting this and not removing it as I did with a previous attempt to express where I'm coming from on this. Thanks for listening.

Good piece, PaperDoll!

We're prone to always have our radar up about what others' say to and about us. Ah, but inside all of us there is this truer voice, but we're often told to distrust its authority. But the risk of not listening to this inner voice can repeatedly inform us of the truth that yes, we're more than okay and deserving of the love so many others -- for whatever reason -- were unable to honour us with.

You said what needs saying and it comes from your best, most honest authority -- your heart.

Thanks so much for sharing this truth, by which we can start and appreciate the journey to healing.

What a well-crafted peek at the life within our lives, and the hope that somehow re-emerges, even after the fears and disappoinments that it might -- but only might, not find, yet again, that hope.

The piece is very reminiscent of that classic tale -- The Scret Gardn.

Thank you so much for the inspiration to share this here.

I've always found it helpful, if not essential, to start each session with notes about concerns I can reference at any time. My T also starts by asking me what my major current concerns seem to be.

Before the process, I imagine I'm opening the mind to stay open to possibilities. Thus my mind can wander, I can recall something related, and in most instances never fully complete the list(s) I start with. Often i end up moving my lists downwards for future reference in subsequent sessions.

At first it bothered me that I couldn't finish the whole list each time, but now I'm easier on myself -- therapy needn't be a race to some grand conclusion. There may even be surprises along the trai (I picture the process as being a sort of 'wilderness trek' through wild landscapes, which might even include surprises -- good or bad or both -- I'd never encounter wandering on my own. In that sense my T joins me as a fellow traveler.

So I say yes to notes, with an openness to considering them as discovery points. I wilsh you well as you continue your therapy encounters.

Here's how memory seems to work for me.

For beginners, on the whole my memory has proven to be pretty sharp, quite thorough (often to my chagrin; who'd want to ever remember?). I can recall the names of all the teachers, most of whom I consider awful, all of them abusive in one way or another, for 13 years of private schools..

Ah, but there's also huge gaps. While I recall the 3rd grade teacher's name an much of her usual over-the-top demeanour, there is a HUGE gap of what seems to have been 'something significant' that I rather hope never does reappear. Though this teacher left the school at the end of my 3rd grade year, she returned one day during the 4th and ... while many kids were excited to see her, I felt extremely uneasy. As, interestingly, was she. I recall a scared sort of stare when she would even idly gaze my way; eventually just avoiding me entirely; and I did the same. Something awful is all I can surmise -- still lurking, but I fervently hope the precise memory will not resurface.

While I've wondered, in some trepidation, if whatever was hidden in the background would flit back into memory, it never has, and I rather hope it never does.

There are some other gaps of that kind, but that one is noticeable. So it seems the memory game can play all sorts of tricks. Yet, in my case, the general insights from the gaps do tend to merge with those that are almost crystal clear, and I really never want to know; just choose to work (if needed) with the other intense abusive memories still mostly intact. Several (too many) took place during my adult years as well.

Sometimes when others bring up certain themes, even in idle conversation, I  find myself easily dissociating. One time this happened during a therapy session, for which I apologized to my T and she reminded me -- it's perfectly normal, and ok, to experience this.

I, too, have concluded that the patterns, even when the details aren't apparently fully recalled, speak to where we might indeed need healing. Most of those 'why' questions are often elusive. After all, we're talking abuse that was senseless to begin with.

There's variety in how each of us respond, and how or when our memories play a role. For me, the best part isn't remembering every detail, but growing beyond what I do know and continuing along the path that seems optimal for me now. The past is still, last I checked, stretching further and further behind me, taking all the 'whys' with it. Now, finally, a new horizon of peace-making with my past is finally emerging. I hope it does for you as well.

Welcome to this next step on your journey, Little2Nothing.

Some of your experience rings very true for mine, especially the lack of feeling truly connected to anyone who seems ok to trust. This is why I find this forum/website so helpful. I hope you'll begin to feel you've found a group where you can begin unpacking the long years of angst, wondering what was wrong, and how to turn it around, especially when the 'professional' help wasn't adequate either.

 

Powerful, the unspoken truths we have to find just to be loved and cared for. Sometimes it's just so hard to try again   

Yet -- here it is; without trying, without the human put-downs, we can live our own way forward.

Thank you, tryingtokeepmoving, for putting words to otherwise blind rage ... and still somehow ... surviving as we build anew.

Having been through lots of therapists before my present one (nearly a decade now), the first steps in, looking back my our first forays involved my looking for hints of how the 'fit' meshed. My old trust issue dominated that attitude.

It soon became apparent that there was a good fit -- she expressed the notion that she didn't 'do' therapy for anyone; that the therapy part is more of a partnership, exploring mostly along lines suggested by the client.

At first I found this a little disappointing. She didn't have answers? Like many, I wanted the easy-on approach. But it soon became obvious she wasn't buying that one -- she might have her own opinions but everything reverted to how I felt, with the allowance that her expertise in trauma therapy was always present.

Another intriguing thing I learned early is that she was a keen listener, and totally open to me as part of the process. It wasn't about her doling out fantastic advice and my going off to live happily ever after. She accepted my input, even delving into some of the books I'd come across that she hadn't.

All along, she trusted my own yen for self-discovery beyond the therapy appointments only. I have a huge inclination for what's called Bibliotherapy, and what I discover in reading often gets into our meetings (mostly telephone now, following the pandemic (one of her offices is in a medical centre). I wouldn't have favoured this at the start, but once we knew each other better the telephone approach saved me some hefty travel.

I do set out some notes ahead of time ... BUT I tend to want to rely on them so much, it can feel like I'm reading a story to her. She's actually okay with that, but I never do catch all of what I want to say either.

But I'm prob getting a little too self-critical here. Plus comparing therapists for unique individuals is tricky anyway. We're all different, prefer different ways to experience therapy.

That said, I'd just encourage patience, especially at the start. Some notes probably help, but they can get a little carried away, too (mine is also partly due to ye olde 'perfectionism many with Cptsd develop; following years of explaining for others and not feeling understood, it feels natural to make clear what one is trying to say.

I wish you well in establishing a pace and style that seems comfortable. I used to have doubts about in-person therapy's usefulness, but my experience with this T has changed all of that.

Brief addendum to the above:

I recently read an author who suggested that the brain can be imagined as a favourite personal room. Okay -- but, like a room in one's house, perhaps it could stand a little remodel.

He suggests changing the colour scheme, removing and replacing the old 'bed of nails' (LOL) with a cozy lounge chair, and the two I like best:

Install a window with a colourful, live seasonal view (so the view isn't static year-in, year-out. Then, the one I like best of all -- the installation of a pressure-valve someplace on a wall.

The valve, a typical orifice device found on stoves, water heaters, all sorts of devices, can be adjusted by a simple twist of opening it and -- voila -- the pressure is released into the air.

Likewise, he suggests that the brain's imaginary redo be outfitted with such a release valve. If nothing else, the room's coziness is soon enhanced.

Just something I recalled at the mention of the role and function of mindfulness in these fragile brains we tend to.

Mindfulness seems to have turned into a cult word which I don't feel comfy about either. It often seems to be more of a marketing slogan than anything.

Personally, in my yen to find words I can live with, I refer to what most would identify with the trendy mindfulness tag and alter it to read as "heartfulness". Because in the heart is where I find things mean the most, both for my perception and how I exist in the world.

"Mindful" does seem a bit, well, scary -- as if one has filled their thinking capacity up with so much there's no room for, say, contemplation or thinking outside the box, so to speak.
Awareness refers to what's meant, I feel.

All language is doing is pointing. And all of us derive our language in different ways. Just my thoughts, translated via how my heart speaks. 

I attended a rotten, pretend-religious sort of school, where the hypocrisy ground me into a zombie-like feeling leading to ... get me outta here.

Then, one day, going into the school from the 9-mile bus trip to get there, I walked in, and totally unconsciously, went to set my books and winter clothes in place, and ... with no forethought, no hidden or inner voices, just turned around and walked the entire 9 miles home.

The parents didn't care (they'd already written me off, the school did no search or inform police, none of that. I returned to the school the next day, but felt so much freer for that walk in freedom.

In retrospect, that walk signifies my true separation, at least in my heart, from a place which was harmful to the 'soul' they said they  were saving from ... something  I guess it was them from whom I needed the separation, and that absent-minded walk was the start of the separation/freedom trip that continues ...