Bermuda's Memories - Overflow Journal 1

[Bermuda]

I know that I am not nothing. Somehow people relying on me makes me feel worthless, which means the more normal my life becomes the more worthlessness I will feel because inevitably I will let more people down. I just need to take these moments to look at myself from outside myself and see what the truth actually is, rather than what CPTSD tells me.

I feel bad that my journal has just become a bunch of whining lately. I would like to take it back to memories, but the really bad ones have all been written out.

Yesterday my son was playing and he knocked over a wobbly wooden end table that I had a plant setting on. I gasped at the sound it made when it crashed. My son reacted by making a concerned sad face, apologising and telling me he feels so bad that he broke my table. I replied by telling him that it was okay, and that I wasn't sad, and that the table was already broken. I told him that I knew it was a little broken but I used it anyway because the plant couldn't reach the window yet. I put the wobbly table back together and set the plant back on top. He found a leaf, and was sad that the plant got hurt. I told him it is sad, but the plant will be okay and it can grow a new leaf.

Seeing the sorry look in his face just pulled me back to childhood. "There's no use crying over spilled milk." Growing up, my reaction to having done something like that would have been quite extreme. I would have cried, hid the evidence, and ran and hid. My siblings would have ran and hid. My mother never would have admitted that the table itself was flawed. We were flawed. We would have had to work it off, clean it up, do whatever she wanted until we were worthy of her indifference again. So, the second I saw my son's face I felt bad for gasping as a reflex to the sound. I'm happy that my son know's that he can trust me.

Being beaten for spilling milk, and then being chastised the next time you cry for having spilled milk. Being told that is all the milk, and that there will be no more for anyone. That it's my fault. No one will have milk until I make it up. My reality was very different.

[NarcKiddo]

As a child you were put in an impossible position.

I think you dealt with the situation very well. Even people without CPTSD would likely gasp at a sudden crash sound. Your son's reaction is normal, and sweet. Especially being sad for the plant losing a leaf. But you were able to reassure him that the plant was not badly hurt and would be okay. That the table was already broken.

[Armee]

You and your son handled that incident with the table and the plant beautifully. It's a great way for you to remember how different things are for him versus how things were for you as a kid, and for him to metabolize that things can go wrong and it's not his fault and he's still loved and also that things can get hurt but still survive and keep growing.

It makes sense to be in a big emotional flashback right now. Because something like what happened on the bike if that happened as a kid you would have been blamed and made to pay that off too. You would have had to give up money for lunch and clothes and everything else. This is different.

You do need a new bike, absolutely. It is not your fault that you need a new bike. If using the money for a new bike that you use to transport your children means that vacations have to be delayed then that too is not your fault. This is the fault of the person who did this to you and your family and your bike. Same with your visit to your friend.

It's much less painful to focus on feeling like this is your fault than to feel the freaking terror that anyone would feel in this situation. Focusing on feeling like it's your fault and you are bad somehow...it's a way to manage the whole experience. I used to do the same not long ago. It's how we kept safe as kids too so it really serves a useful purpose.

Just please know somewhere in the back of your mind when you are feeling like that...it's not true. It's not your fault. You are not a burden. You deserve a bike, and you deserve a break, even though moms of very young kids don't get them. I wish I were there in person to give you some help so you could take a break.

You are not whining either. You are processing a difficult experience and that is healthy and necessary. 

[Bermuda]

Blah. 

I feel terrible that I am not interacting with any of the posts anymore. I just don't have capacity for that.

Today I ran errands. I got a stamped paper from my bike shop that states that my cargo bike is unable to be repaired and lists damages. I paid him by giving back all the nice parts he had installed on the bike in last year. I got a five page back-and-forth letter from the police. I read it, and although I understand the words, I don't think I understand the subtlety of the language used, so later a friend is going to go over it with me to explain the more intricate meaning that is lost on a foreigner. I filled out an online form for my doctor, and they will call me in the next 24h about my injuries, and maybe there will be an appointment set up. So, I did a lot of grown up things today. I vomitted from pain in my ribs while putting on my socks today. That was surely a highlight.

Now that I did things that stressed me out to do, I feel slightly less frantic. My mind just has too many tabs open right now.

I kind of feel like... You know when you are doing something physical and your heartbeat goes up, and that triggers a flight response? It's like that, but this feeling is very much the feeling I have felt in other, less okay, times. It triggers me.

It's more than masking, it's separating. It's a super-human power. I could build a shelter in a ravine until the dogs pass by overhead. No one will find me here. I could save you, but I see nothing outside of this. I become so capable. So cold. Fearless. I don't like this state. There is no danger, and I don't need to build a shelter. No one is looking for me. I don't need to out-do anyone.

    

[NarcKiddo]

    

Those are very gentle hugs, so as not to hurt your poor ribs any more.

[Blueberry]

Blah. 

I feel terrible that I am not interacting with any of the posts anymore. I just don't have capacity for that.

You come first!   

I don't have any more capacity atm either but I readd your post and I'm thinking of you.

[Hope67]

Hi Bermuda,
I agree with Blueberry, you come first, and I also want to extend some supportive and gentle hugs, if that's ok   

Hope 

[Bermuda]

I am no longer holding it together. I can't keep busy because there is nothing to do. I feel on the verge of a panic attack constantly and I keep checking out. It's the weekend now. How will I do it? I feel ashaimed, attention seeking, self-indulgent, like I talk too much, like I am making it up, exaggerating. I feel ridiculous.

My husband asked me what about the emergency reception made me anxious the other day. I looked at him quite dumbstruck. The loud ventilation system? I don't know. ... Why am I losing my mind? The vents in my mind? I don't know.

It's scary. Checking out is scary.

When I was in middle school I was given an assignment to write a persuasive essay centering around the greatest fear. I remember other children writing about things like spiders. I wrote about astral projection. I wrote this completely non-sense five page piece with a story element about getting lost inside someone else's mind. I thought I was being snarky. My teacher gave me the highest possible marks and had me present my essay to the class. I guess I successfully persuaded my teacher in believing it would be terrifying to be lost in the astral plane or stuck inside someone else.

...Terrifying.

He wrote a note on that paper saying in all his 20 years of teaching that it was the best essay he had ever read. I kept it for a long time.

I have a strange mind. It's slippery. Fear is not a good grounding mechanism. Trust me.

[Papa Coco]

Bermuda,

Your paper sounds so cool. You know that saying, there is a fine line between crazy and genius. I think you are kind of genius. That's just my opinion. I always like your inputs and your non-traditional, non-conforming ways of viewing the world.

If I were your teacher I'd have given you the highest possible marks too. Nothing like listening to 20 children tell the safest stories and finally having one with a new perspective light up the room.

I'm thinking about you today as you struggle with the feeling of panic and ungroundedness. Sending you care and friendship!

[Bermuda]

Perception is an odd thing. I wrote a snarky piece thinking he would fail me, but instead he smiled and said, "I never said it had to be the truth." Papa Coco, thank you. Really. I always feel so disconnected from other people, and never know how to show kindness like you all do so naturally. It's not because I don't feel grateful, or even included. I know that the short is both at my reciever and transmitter. I am learning that my perception is not the same as it is for others. Sometimes I will not be failed or ridiculed. People care about me, even if I feel alone, even if I can't hear your words in my mind.

I'll probably never have what I am missing, but maybe I can learn to imagine it there, so when I feel insular I can identify it as me rather than objective truth. My internal dialogue is not objective truth, just like my paper wasn't. That's okay too.

[Bermuda]

It's really lonely in my universe. I feel sad about not having a family, and with my husband's family visiting soon it feels sad that they dislike me so much, and that my husband sides with them because it is easier. Obviously, it's like like he can't let them see their grandchildren afterall, and obviously he is busy, so their visit is my responsibility.

I hate that I am in a place where I am nothing. It doesn't matter how I feel, or how people treat me. I don't have a choice. If I made one then I am obviously the problem. I hate being quiet. Disengaged. My husband is afraid things will escalate between his parents and I again, but when he says that he thinks it's something I did. I didn't do anything. I didn't say anything. I just took the children and walked away. How dare I.

How dare I exist. I am thinking of telling my husband to cancel their visit then. Tell them they can't come. Tell them it's me. I'm losing nothing. I never had anything. ...But then I would be accused of harming the children. They need their grandparents. The ones who undermine and insult me in front of the children. The ones who lied. Who said the most horrible things imaginable...

Maybe this time I should be the bad guy. My husband asked me if I could just go away somewhere while they visit. Well, that's infuriating. Of course not. I am not leaving them unsupervised with the kids. Never. Not happening. That made my husband mad because how will he explain that to his parents? That's his concern.

[Armee]

I'm so sorry Bermuda. You're stuck between a rock and a hard place and without your husband being particularly supportive or understanding and at a time where you are already very vulnerable from the...how do I call this...accident that wasn't an accident?

How long will you have to manage without managing? Pretend to manage...how long is their visit?

I'm so sorry.

[Bermuda]

I don't know Armee. I don't know. Thanks for the support, even though I know you are struggling too. I'm just spread so thin.

I just returned from the dreaded appointment that I randomly got in the post. My issue that I so successfully ignored was remembered. The doctor who examined me just put me on the waiting list for surgery. So, now I can add that to my stresses. I am so good at ignoring my health. It's so much easier, but I showed up today. I walked to the clinic. Now I am going to have to have surgery.

 

[NarcKiddo]

Bermuda - you went to the clinic. I don't want to use the celebration emoji because that feels all kinds of wrong, but I know what a big deal it is to have to grit one's teeth and do it. And then have the surgery. Well done. It's a huge deal and I am sorry that surgery is necessary.

I am really sorry your husband does not seem able to be supportive of your family where his parents are concerned. I do understand his difficulty, at one level, because I have always struggled with that aspect of my FOO and it has taken me until my 50s to even start withstanding them. Nevertheless, that does not help you. I think you are being very strong and brave for your children in refusing to go along with the idea that you just go away and leave them to their grandparents. You are a great mother. Maybe you should go away somewhere WITH the children and let your husband entertain his parents! At the very least he should clear his diary to be there for them. They are not your responsibility. My husband has long had a habit of using me to dilute the company of his mother and it really grates.

 

[Bermuda]

I have said before that my trauma impacts literally everything I do. I even think about breathing. I am categorically an over-thinker.

I want to share how my brain works, by sharing my thoughts this (normal) morning.

I have been doing a bit of online shopping, except I have a really bad habit of not actually buying things. I just research things until I become overwhelmed and close the tabs. It's quite the habit. Shopping in general causes me anxiety.

I talked yesterday with my husband about maybe all wearing yellow on Easter. Not for any reason. I thought it would be nice. Then while I was shopping and looking at the cost of outfits (I'm not poor), I got overwhelmed with guilt. Then I thought about my experiences with people who dress up and parade around to make it look like they have a perfect family. The families who wear matching outfits and take photos together, when it's really an act of control. I got really anxious, and closed the tabs. I thought maybe it would be best if I spent the money elsewhere. I don't want to be like that. I don't want to give the impression that I am like that, and it feels unfair, like I'm stealing from my kids if I buy them matching outfits. So I nixed that idea.

After that I thought about the holidays coming up and then things I need to get and do to prepare, then I thought well I can at least figure out what I will wear. I thought it would be fun to wear nail polish. I haven't worn cosmetics, or done any kind of "beauty" thing in years. My son owns nail polish and make up and sometimes wants to paint me, but that's it. Anyway, I found this lovely shade of brown called Just Fudge, I'm so boring, but then I thought of my mother's face with all her cosmetic surgery. Guess what I did? I closed the tabs.

My kid's needed new shoes, so I started shopping for new shoes for them. My son has sensory preferences and wears nearly exclusively wellies and clogs. Very easy. Except I was looking at Crocs remembering how I would never have been allowed to wear anything like that. I remember the jellies trend when I was little. My mother told me I was very allergic and couldn't touch them. I believed her. Maybe I should get myself some glitter jellies, now that I see what she did there. So, my son wears what he likes, as long as it's not aggressive or problematic. So my daughter at just two has decided she likes pink and purple most. I don't, and I find it hard to look at. There is definitely some trauma for me there. She needed a complete new shoe wardrobe. I got her bright fuschia dinosaur snow boots. (Still relevant here) And also pink dinosaur wellies, and the most obnoxiously pink glittery light up shoes I could find. She is going to be so happy.

There is no way I would have been allowed to wear pink light-up shoes.

I am a very beige person. I think it's really important for me to have a quiet neutral space because of my own sensory overload, but my kids are their own people, and every time I think of them I think about the things I missed out on. I might actually buy myself some glitter jellies. The clear ones with silver glitter. Probably not, frivolous. I wanted to buy myself a hair dryer. I know, I don't own one. I never have... But I closed the tabs because it seemed wasteful. I don't know why my brain is like this.

Then after this I thought about other stuff for myself, and then I closed the tabs, for the same reason. I saw her face looking at me. I don't want to be her.

Then I thought about projects. I can't work right now. My vision is making just typing here very difficult. The guilt of being unproductive, ironically made me close the tabs. I have to be realistic. I can't finish what I have already started. So, now I am sad. Sitting here.

I am at a point with CPTSD that I can clearly see what is happening as it happens, but I can't control it. I still can't stand up to her, I can stand up for them, and when it comes to me I leave. I closed the doors to silence the voice. Otherwise her voice will live in my house in the object. It's like inviting the vampire inside.