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Whatever the treatments involve there, I hope you will feel the vibes here and that the best wishes of all of us will lift your spirits. All the best, now and going forward.

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I hope it's okay to add this little quote I ran into the other day -- it's from Greek poet Dinos Christianapouls. He wrote:

"They tried to bury us, but they didn't know we were seeds."

Hope your seeding of the new you goes well and grows strong and beautiful.

As someone who went through various forms of therapy from an assortment of therapists, I also found a huge disparity in who I felt connected with my issues, and personally as well. It's very hard, but important to really note when the fit just isn't there.

We are all unique, as are the approaches and backgrounds of therapists. Only after a span of some years and lots of false hopes and failed promises, I found someone who met my needs in a manner I felt compatible  with; if not always easy. Mind you, comfort is difficult, considering the void we're in when we decide to try therapy. Having been in and out, though, I can't offer any specific advice -- instead just encourage you, as you seem to have a feel for what might or might not help.

"Help" is the key word -- it's not the therapist's role to fix you --   but to be help you with your own journey. They can't do therapy for you, but what they offer in assisting you can help turn the tide. This is how my own experience has grown -- after all those therapists, I kept at it and finally found someone with an approach that seems to have fit me well. May you find a good way forward, and give yourself credit for having tried so far the best you can.

Wishing you the best.

It's awful to read of all the roadblocks which have lately emerged for you. Especially considering your already remarkable turnaround from not too far back.

The word en-courage-ment comes to mind as playing a needed role in all of our stories. I think it's significant that courage stands out, in word if not in how you're feeling right now. What I mean comes strictly from observing the many turns you've taken, and how at each one you demonstrated your enormous capacity for courage.

Thank you for how, even in your current desperate pain and anxiety, you've been able to again muster the resolve to see this through. May the surgery go well, and may the coming days brighten.

Gently, I'll offer this --  ; -- hope it can help you keep finding ways which will carry you on to those brighter days. 

Hi, DMan. I'll try and keep this short. I'm not keen on super-analysis these days, but it has its place, especially at the stage of wondering 'what the .... is going on?

I have the identical symptom of hearing those now disembodied voices, from multiple abuse sources in FOO, schools/church people, and later when, in my desperate susceptibility to fall for someone I felt I could trust, I fell into the clutches of a crafty narcissist.

So your tale resonates deeply with my experience. In the process of weaving how awful this feels into the ongoing therapy I've doing for around 6 years, I've tried less to go by what the books and analyses say (or I think they're saying) and build on how my T and I work/play with whatever it is that's happening.
At their worst, these voices made it seem like I was surrounded by dozens of radio, all with angry voices blaring at me, while all I could do was to clutch a pillow around my ears as much as possible, but they still penetrated.

My T is wonderful at nudging me towards my own comebacks to symptoms, at least at first. She did this with these as well, until she just simply wondered if I only reacted, or could stand to be a tad pro-active, and send the screams back -- literally (I live in an isolated rural area, which helps -- there's no humans around to hear and be concerned).

That almost sounded too simple,  , but slowly I began doing my own comebacks, in any combo of words that came -- and was surprised at how that helped. Of course I was eager that this would rectify the terror of hearing those voices, such wasn't the case. But it was a start, and began feeling more at ease after venting in that way.

The voices can still happen by, but I react now, and that's made a world of difference with my attitude about dissipating their immediate effect. One small detail, in my case, was explained by my T in regards to how the stimulant part of the brain that can generate this stuff is also apparently associated with feeling when the body is exhibitin phyical pain. Yup -- that ties in with my acute levels of arthritic type of bodily pains -- and when they flare it seems my emotional memories -- with the voices -- also flare.

One difference with what you noted is that the voices I hear are related to actual incidents; unfortunately all of them. However, at least I'm getting the chance to scream and cry back at those incidents, and more so the memory of the many abusers who once projected those voices.

Ah, once again I've made this longer than I intended. Perhaps it's not helpful, but I wanted you to at least know that there are others who experience what you're talking about. Apparently these voices got so internalized they're just hard to evict, but at least in my case I've found some breathing room. I know it probably sounds too simple almost; while gobbling up all the theories and such about this, but also staying off of drugs to deal with it, I've at least turned a corner on my path.

But that's my own tale -- I can only hope you will find relief in whatever form that works out for you. Like anything with this sort of thing, it may take awhile, but the best news is that you're actively trying to arrive at a solution.

Oops --  --  addendum to previous post:

But of course, in the process of copying the poem TRY HUMAN, by Chelan Harkin, I inadverdently missed getting the last part of the poem in. Talk about a Kintsugi moment! -- anyway, here is the end of the poem, repaired in my imperfect way:

"Forget polished.
Choose rusted, textured, nuanced, real.
Please cease this intimidating flawlessness
and become generous in sharing your sacred wound.
Forget Divine— try human."

I recently ran across this little gem by poet Chelan Harkin in her book called "Susceptible to Light". The poems are mind-bending without straining to get her drift. Anyway, I liked this poem for its ending, which reminded me of an approach to healing called Kint-Sugi.  More on that in a minute, but first her poem:


"TRY HUMAN
Forget perfection.
Go for messy, learning tender, whole.
Forget brand new.
Embrace cracked, broken open, worn, rich with story."

Though there's a popular legend about how Kintsugi originated, basically it refers to discovering the usefulness of not rejecting the smashed fate of, say, a broken vase or jar and its seemingly ruined collection of shards.

While its original object can never be entirely reconstructed, the smashed remnants can be rediscovered, worked with, and re-crafted into a piece that can often turn out better than the original broken pieces.

Well, we're all broken in various ways. And we're all either in the process or trying to find ways to mend our broken-ness. Repairing that broken vase often involved applying a gold lacquer to cover (not hide) the seams of the broken item.

The result -- perhaps a new usable vase, but also the possibility of creating a new beautiful artwork in which the old hopeless shards take on new life.

For another view of Kint-sugi, I've always liked the following short description via YouTube:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EBUTQkaSSTY&ab_channel=TheSchoolofLife


Just some thoughts ... all inspired by Harkin's concise little poem.

May we all find ways to not just mend, but create new and meaningful art out of pieces so broken we'd given up hope of ever finding any good to help us carry forward.





~~ 

Greetings, Autodidact  -- love your name choice, and its reference to our self-learning capabilities.

While on the surface fearing to heal can seem counterintuitive, it makes sense in some ways. For instance, we're so conditioned by our deep hurts, it's hard to ever fathom healing in the first place. Then, when it seems like it could happen, it's like a familiar trait we'd gotten used to was yanked out, leaving a gap. Talk about starting over! In that sense, it's like any change -- mighty scary at times.

Then, too, it might feel too good to be true, and of course that same conditioning of how bad we are becomes tricky to navigate -- is this the real me? Do I deserve this? Sounds so simple, and the main desire of actually reaching what seemed so unreal and yet those reactions can also enter into the mising gap in consciousness. It can actually seem risky to enter the new territory.

Maybe, though, the fears are covering up the real hope -- yet the risk and anxiety pops up as a caution, causing one to be careful for what so long had been regarded as an impossible leap. Perhaps it is, and it could be radically different than anything one had ever expected well-being to feel like.

Rambling here, eh? I think, in the end, it speaks mostly to a willingness to be surprised that things can also take a turn for the good. At last there's daylight. It still takes discernment, though -- but still, a realization sets in that it might be real, even if radically different from what we'd envisioned. Scary, sure; but so worth the journey.

I'm still cautious, as it can also seem repetitive -- hopes up, back, neutral; hoping the taste of freedom wasn't just a fantasy. But for such good changes -- again, worth knowing that the storms may indeed have begun clearing enough to sense a new direction; beckoning us on towards deserved, even amazing, discoveries -- not really recovery, but far better than one's hopes had ever allowed, even in the most fantastic dreams.

Hi, Tulip17  Welcome to this place of hope.

No, it isn't a panacea with all the answers, by any means; yet it can provide some much-needed support which is hard to find elsewhere. I hope you can find some glimmers of hope here, as many on OOTS also experience a high degree of social anxiety.

Why must this place be so distant? It seems I have instant access to my Grief Garden, but this Healing Porch is so elusive, and hard to get to. It seems so far away, and it can be tiring to get here.

I'd like it so much more if it wasn't so hard  to reach, and then  only when I'm desperate and need its comfort. Once there, it's so peaceful, yet energizing by the same token. Maybe it's supposed to be hard to get to; perhaps the difficulty helps create the magic spell it holds? Must places like the Healing Porch always be distant?

I don't care. I just know it's a place I'm meant to be. Sure, so does the Grief Garden, and it would be naive to miss its transformative paths. Or is the Healing Porch close to it and I never realized it? . Knowing the presence of the Healing Porch and its awesome setting would always be worth the trip.

But I think it only seems far away. I can always dig a piece of soil from there to tuck in my heart, where my tears of separation can nourish new growth, wherever I am. Even in the Grief Garden. in that way I can always feel connected to the Healing Porch. And to Hope. 


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Hi, Master of my Seas.

Good wondering, albeit if you have to give ol' icr credit for the excessive worry about what's right on OOTS.

As you've found, there's lots to wade into here. Maybe some it is from years ago (OOTS only goes back to 2014), but much of it hits deep on various topics and, IMO, are worthy to be selectively read as there are nuggets all over. Much of it was commented on at the time of posting, but the inspiration, wondering, or just expressions often stand by themselves.

I had a pattern once I started to hang back, but found myself drawn into opening up more. Partly I hesitated (and still do) given the task of trying to adequately explain some things which are very nuanced and particular to my situation.

Still, I found myself surprised to find some topics that seemed to draw my need to say something. Early on I was especially prone to long posts, then they leveled off in a while.

Much of the leveling off had to do with my own recognition of when my 'overwhelm' was in danger of flooding my mind. I mean, I'd find it difficult to sleep after reading some of the entries on here, yet they pulled at me strongly. Here, after all, the talk isn't pedantic self-help, but trying to make sense of things that probably never will make one iota of sense.

On the other hand, even it some of the topics make one feel helpless, they at least point out that we're not alone either 

So I guess my point is to encourage your browsing, commenting when you feel pulled to do so, and not worry particularly much about others reactions to your outlook. We all have unique viewpoints. One thing I've learned is to be willing to be surprised by what gets said, and especially by what my reaction(s) might be like. And, often, though I find some topics of intrigue, I also feel very unqualified, say, when current family matters are in the mix, as I literally pulled the plug on FOO decades ago.

Alright, hope this made some sense.

I had so many childhood traumatic stories I'd probably overrun my (and yours) sensibilities trying to relate all the ins/outs of so much, both in FOO and lots of crap endured in religious (so bad I call them 'pretend' religions). Anyway, lots of long stories but what I noticed as your story unfolded was how it resembled an adult relationship that turned to be as bad as the ones when I was younger.

Despite my ominous beginnings, I somehow nurtured an artistic sensibility which I became very good at. This attracted attention, but none as notable as someone who admired and wanted to hire my talents away from where I was employed for 10 years.

It developed as a sort of 'courtship' -- not romantic, mind you, but along the lines of 'mutual admiration'; at least it seemed that way. Eventually I was enticed by the attention and the trust of someone who seemed exactly the type I could thrive with and further develop the unique career track I had developed on my own -- but the enticement that it could be more shortly became evident.

As it turned out, the person did admire my qualities, but his schmoozing made it seem deeper than that. Soon signs of his insipient narcissism popped up all over, and I felt trapped in the situation. I know a big part was just finding someone I thought I could trust ... he seemed to sense that and played his cards accordingly. But by the time I realized what he was up to it was too late. Despite some early warning signs, they weren't enough to deter me from his initial seeming on-the-level sort of relationship, which dissipated almost the moment I was officially hired.

I'm skipping loads of details which aren't at all pretty, and which were hard to escape from (yet I was fortunate to do so).

Okay, I'd rather not go into it any further right now, as I've worked so hard to have broken the heartbreak and all that goes with it. I just point it out, I guess, to point out a little of how some of these sorts of relationships can develop at any age, and how vulnerable I was. And one reason for the vulnerability was never having had anyone I could trust in childhood and then ... well, it was bad but I made it here too.

Thanks for sharing your story, OwnSide, and welcome to OOTS -- may it help ease the ride as you seek to rebuild the life you deserve.

The night needed music ... just now, what's that? A harp, no; perhaps a guitar being softly strummed, no. Hmmm ...    Yes, a ukelele; has to be.

Arriving at the seaside fire ring, sat the loveliest crowd, munching a bit, enjoying a few s'mores and chocolates, but mostly a powerful vibe of what used to be called 'peace beyond understanding.'

Not wanting to disturb, I'm still drawn, and ... the vibe carries all forward, in silent peace, like we've always wanted. It's so simple, and yet so many never understood that. We do, and treasure these moments.

Ah, the peace that is always there; we don't always recognize it, appreciate it, or think it's lost ... and then, there it is! Hard to describe, and elusive, but when it comes it's fun to share as you've just done so well, Hope.

Thank you!

Thanks, San!

There's so many times, and ways, the realization of that inner light flickers back into and despite our endless mind chatter. There aren't many good definitions of how this happens, we just feel and realize its presence when it happens. Your words (hooray for wordplay!) speak as well as any ever have.

It may not seem like much, yet when that light flickers on again, it can bring forth that enduring sense of light you speak of.