Papa Coco's Recovery Journal

[Lakelynn]

Thank you for the article on Betrayal Papa Coco. I agree that much of the literature calls it by different names, but at the core, it's the same and the diagnostics are viewing from different angles.

The last two article points were helpful: Set boundaries and become aware of patterns. Easier said that done. Valuable nevertheless!

Before you shared your experiences with "microdosing", I'd never been aware of it. Back in the day, I did a lot of hallucinogens, and it sounds like a "good trip" to me. The best ever to open consciousness to Love and then hold it.

You are courageous for taking matters in hand and getting what you need.

[Chart]

PapaCoco, I have moved my response to your journal. I hope that's okay.

PS: I'm currently sinking into an EF. I expect that if this year is like every year so far, it will last through the entire month of August, and then transform from a melancholy desire to be loved, into anxiety and dissociative fits of terror by November. (My assumption is that this calendar time connects me to back to school days when I was being abused at Catholic school for most of my childhood). But for whatever reason, this EF comes on me every single year, and no matter how much I try to muscle through it, my emotions become too powerful for me to control. This year's EF started a few days ago. This time of year, every year, grabs my heart and turns it into a squishy blob. I'm on the edge of tears all day and all night. I had nightmares all last night about reconnecting with my abusive elder sister. I woke up and have been an emotional mess all day.

I get this same situation just a month later, around September. My ex-girlfriend pointed this out. I'm one month behind you. Nonetheless woke up at 3am this morning. Upon awaking, the Fear begins to build. It can build to an intolerable level. My mind churns and I KNOW that I just have to get up, start moving, get the day going. I tempt myself with a cup of tea. But the Fear is is powerful, it holds me there, frozen, as surely I was when still a baby.

I read your post and immediately wanted to respond. I want to help. But here I am and I honestly don't have anything constructive to say. Only, I think I know how you are feeling going into this. I will have to face similar things in the coming month. I have to write to my eldest trans daughter on the eve of her 18th birthday. I have to go back and save all the messages exchanged with my ex-girlfriend a year ago as we were breaking up. (I'm still debating whether or not to do this as it will be horribly triggering...) All sorts of things that trigger us. A life of triggers. A life-long EF. As we've been discussing Love, perhaps this is the only answer: we have to love ourselves. I can say it to myself, but I've no idea what the effects on my brain are. The Neurofeedback is giving me some amazing insights into brain functioning. And I'm still extremely hopeful. But it is also clear that I must not forget all the somatic work that needs to be integrated, and probably for a long time. I'm pretty bad about keeping stuff up for years and years. Like you, I need Love to motivate me. And only coming from myself this Love is hard to maintain.

I'm sorry, I wish I had more constructive things to say about your recurrent EF. Please know that I love you and am with you in spirit and heart.

-Chart

[Papa Coco]

Chart. You've been saying some things to me lately that have really been helpful. I'm still exploring that thing you said about how Self-discipline and Trauma don't work well together. THat's a game changer for me. It gives me more permission to be broken, which makes me feel less responsible for my struggles with self-discipline. The other thing you said was how a person raised in a supportive home lives their life at pain level 0, while my baseline fear level is never less than 7. So when something painful happens, I go from high pain to even higher pain, so that's why I try to avoid difficult or unsafe situations with such ferocity.  Thank you for all the cool things you bring to me. They are very helpful.

Journal Entry for Monday, August 19, 2024

Lately, I've been active all over the forum, but I haven't posted a journal page in several weeks. Today I feel like journaling a bit.

I'm dealing with two major things right now: 1) My hardwired propencity for feeling chronic fear all the time and 2) The realization that connection is the golden chalice that we all strive for in everything we do.

I have a fleet of kayaks and bicycles that I've been accumulating for decades. I never ride them. Bears are becoming more problematic in my neighborhood so I stopped riding my bikes on the trails. Whales and sharks are starting to sink boats, so I'm now afraid of being in a kayak. People are armed and angry in every city in my state, and they're shooting each other rather than arguing like adults. So I'm now afraid to go to public events. I've been living my entire life afraid of having fun. I've never felt connected to a sense of joy so I struggle all the time to feel joy and to give fear a rest. If I can do that. I'm not sure I can.

I'm alone for now, but Coco is on her way to pick up my grandsons and drive them here to the beach to spend 4 days with us. I couldn't be happier, but also afraid at the same time. I have a great relationship with both boys, ages 10 and 13. But I get so scared of saying something that will mess up my friendship with them that I'm on pins and needles the whole time I'm with them. I hate that. I LOVE being with these two little knuckleheads, but my own inner wiring has me terrified they won't love me back. Which is stupid. They love me so much. They are so excited about this beach trip that they both slept with their packed suitcases in the livingroom so they'd be ready when Gramma Coco arrives to pick them up. At 2 AM, the older boy texted me a photo of the movie he wants to watch when they get here. This city has a small theater in it. For him to spend the time planning what he wants to do when he gets here just warms my heart. He's been bullied so badly in school that he lives hidden in his bedroom playing video games where he feels safe from the world. I can so easily connect with that. His heart was broken by the world and it's not healing well. For him to reach out like this and tell me what he wants to do when he gets here almost puts me to tears. He really does trust me. I am actually starting to cry now. I love him so much, but he hides from me, and from the whole world, and now he's reaching out to us to show us what he wants.

What's bugging me is that I want to spend a few days with these two people that I love so much, but I'm going to have to suffer inside because I'll be so afraid of doing something that makes them not want to come back to my world again. What if I let them get too bored, so they stop asking to come stay with us? What if I don't have the right food, so they don't want to eat with us anymore?

I know where all this fear is rooted. My family routinely turned their backs on me and started smear campaigns against me any time I didn't paint their houses or fix their cars or raise their nasty kids for them. In order to not be ignored and blamed, I had to take care of them all always.  Then in grade school when my best friend wanted to kiss me and I didn't want to kiss him back, he turned on me, he launched a smear campaign at school that lasted my entire childhood. I ANSWERED to the name Homo because I didn't know how not to. It wasn't a few kids. It was the entire school. It lasted for YEARS and I wasn't supported at home. I was forbidden from protecting myself because if I had gotten into a fight, it would have embarrassed my parents to be called by the school, so I learned that I am just someone who would only be loved if I gave people what they wanted. Everyone hated me because I didn't give a friend something he wanted. Through memories and wiring, I now have all the proof I need that I'm wanted only so long as I always say the right thing, and always jump to give what's mine to someone else.

I know it's trauma but knowing that doesn't fix it apparently. And for now, I'm having to come to grips with the fact that hardwiring is hardwiring. I can't ever fix this. All I can do is mitigate it. Learn how to endure the suffering that has been irreparably hardwired into me.

My treatments, from MDMA and Ketamine, to hypnosis, therapy, writing, journaling, medications when needed, reading, energy work, massage, and more are helping me come to grips with the fear, but I have to admit, I'm disappointed to finally begin to truly grasp that I can live a good life while feeling terror all day long, but I will likely never find myself feeling safe. Ever. Even when I AM safe, I can't feel it. I am becoming stronger, and more able to fend of suicidal ideation, which is a very good thing. In reality, my grandsons truly love me. It's trauma that makes me feel like they don't. I know that. So as long as I can be sure to trust that reality and trauma don't share the same truth, and that trauma is a fake reality that slaps me in the face every day but isn't real, then I can continue to find ways to feel safe in a world that I'm absolutely terrified to be living in.

I live by escape fantasies. I go to bed every night fantasizing that I'm in an indestructible facility, or a spaceship that's leaving this dangerous planet for a safer one. I looked it up on Google the other day and found that some writers accept escape fantasies as a good solution to chronic fear. As long as they remain fantasy and don't overtake my mental health, the nightly fantasy of safety gives me the ability to sleep, so why stop doing it?

I suspect that my older grandson's obsession with video games over real life is about his escape fantasy. He's in full control and the dangers of video games are fake. When you die in a video game you just hit reset and start over. It's a safe way to deal with danger. I also suspect it might be why he and I both love coming to the beach as often as we can. This community here is very quiet. Very safe. Very alone. It's 90 minutes from any major city. If that is true, then there's my connecting point. If he feels safe in the solitude of a cold-wet beach, and I feel the same thing, well then, that's where I can connect with him. We can be alike in that sense of how we find safety.

They'll be here in a few hours. I'm excited. I'm also scared. But I want them in my life, so I'm going to work on my fears. Fear has taken so much away from me. I'm not going to let it take my grandkids away from me too. I can fight this. Find a way to accept it, and move on with it under control.

I love all you people, thanks for all the interactions you participate in with me. We connect through our fears. I hate fear, but I love connection, so...I love you people and I love this forum.

[Desert Flower]

I would love to read your whole journal Papa Coco (but it's too much), I love what you have to say. Just so you know.

And I'm sure your grandkids will love spending time with you as much as you with them. How could they not?! I honestly wouldn't know. You must be the best granddad there is! I hope you enjoy as much as you can. Being in the moment with them.

[Desert Flower]

Just wanted to put this in your journal Papa Coco, because I think this breakthrough today was thanks to your support! If you feel like reading some happy news.

https://www.cptsd.org/forum/index.php?topic=16240.msg145929#new

Even if we have to do all the work ourselves, this forum really makes a difference. Thank you for being here.

[AphoticAtramentous]

Having someone's full trust and love like that is such an endearing and valuable experience. I am glad you have that connection, Papa Coco. But I totally understand that fear, that gnawing of "When is it all going to go wrong? When will I make an irreparable mistake?".

I suspect that my older grandson's obsession with video games over real life is about his escape fantasy. He's in full control and the dangers of video games are fake.

As someone who plays a lot of video games myself, yes, that's pretty much it. Occasionally I play a game and if the setup or randomly generated aspects are not to my liking, I have a habit of resetting over and over until it's just right - just... because I can, right? I'm sure many of us would love to re-roll the dice of our own life, but we can't. But in video games, you can... so I totally understand the desire to escape via video games.

They'll be here in a few hours. I'm excited. I'm also scared. But I want them in my life, so I'm going to work on my fears. Fear has taken so much away from me. I'm not going to let it take my grandkids away from me too. I can fight this. Find a way to accept it, and move on with it under control.

Your passion is inspiring and wonderful to see. I know it's hard but if we never allow ourselves out of our shell, we never allow ourselves the opportunity to feel these wonderful experiences, the new, the exciting, the curious, the developing. I like the phrase "Keep on keeping on", and it sounds applicable in this case.

I wonder Papa Coco, do you write at all? If not, you might enjoy it if you haven't tried it, considering you enjoy coming up with those escape fantasies. I find writing experiences that I desire or wish for to be very therapeutic.

I hope that irrational fear will go suck an egg, Papa Coco.

Regards,
Aphotic.

[Papa Coco]

Desert Flower and Apophic,

Your kind words are fuel for my healing. Thank you.

I do write a lot. Mostly on the forum. I've written three novels in my life so far and they truly turned out to be amazing books. I told the stories that I felt strongly connected with and the writing was the most healing and cathartic experience of my life. Lately I've struggle to find a story within me that is begging to be told, so I haven't published a novel since 2018. What I get from my writing here on the forum is enough for me for now. I write for several hours on most days, but as letters to you all, and to a few old friends on email. I also write three full pages (or more) each morning of Stream of Consciousness, which is proving to be a surprisingly helpful activity. Hokey Smokes! The things I learn about myself through that exercise are surreal. I aspire to Flannery O'Connor's famous quote "I write to discover what I know." I haven't read any of O'Connor's work, but that quote connects me to her in that one way. That writing draws my own soul up out of my confused, traumatized body and shows me what it knows for real.

Here's a funny story that has just come to my attention: Twenty years ago I tried manifestation exercises. I made vision boards and mantras that I did for a while and then totally forgot about. Lately I've found those boards. I wanted a house on the beach (Got it in 2015) and I wanted to "write every morning until lunch time, then go out and socialize with others and then rest quietly at home and go to bed happy."  I should have said "I want to write publishable materials that make money each morning." Instead, I just wrote "I want to live on the beach and write every morning."  It looks like I manifested exactly what I'd asked for. Perhaps I should build a new vision board and put some income from the writing on the board. HA HA. I got what I asked for.

Journal Entry for today, Saturday, August 24,

The grandkids came and went. We had a lot of fun. The older boy suffers so with his inner confusion. He can't make a decision. He mumbles. He doesn't allow us to fuss over him. If we offer him pizza he refuses to eat it. Later, we see him sneaking into the fridge and taking a few slices when he thinks we aren't looking. He may have a slight disposition to the autism spectrum AND he may also have a slight case of ADHD. Add to that he was the victim of extremely severe bullying in the first and second grades. He now attends elementary school online. He sort of wants to go to the classroom again as he enters middle-school this year, but he's so incapable of making decisions that he's just himming and hawing now, to the point where his mom will have to enroll him into online again just due to deadlines.

We took the boys to the arcade on Wednesday. I bought everyone tickets to spend on the machines, and offered to buy us all rides on the bumper boats. Only the younger grandson took up the offer, so he and I got soaked on the bumper boats. The older boy came and watched but wouldn't participate. Then we all went inside to play the indoor games. In the past, he's refused to play anything. He would follow us around refusing to have fun. So as we kept asking, "So, what do you want to do?" He wouldn't play any games so we graciously offered to take him home if he felt like that would be more comfortable. He did not want to go home. We'd ask then, what do you want to do? He'd shrug and say he didn't know. A look of stress and a distant discomfort graced his face.

Finally, I wondered if he was having an inner war between what he wanted and what he thought we wanted him to want. He was in decision paralysis, a place I am ALL TOO familiar with. Maybe I saw it on his face because I recognize it from my own mirror image. I said, "Gramma and I want to go sit on the picnic tables with some coffee. You boys just do what you want, and if you run out of money on your cards just come ask and I'll load some more for you." We didn't see them again for over an hour. When they both came back out to find us, both were laughing and filled with color in their faces. They'd exhausted their cards and collectively racked up 2,000 points which meant they could go pick out some treasures from the wall to take home with them.

Once again, we walked to the counter with them and then did NOT participate in their choices. We both stepped back out of their line of sight so they could focus on THEMSELVES and what THEY wanted. The girl who was trading their points for toys and candy had the patience of a saint. They both himmed and hawed and struggled to decide which cheap little trinkets they wanted. They took turns picking things out. They worked together to get a stash of toys and candy that they'd earned with their skillful arcade gaming to proudly bring home.

I was so proud of the older boy. I don't know why he gets so paralyzed when people offer to give him things. He was in the world already when my son married his mom, so we don't really know much about the first 3 years of his life. I just know that I love this kid with the same energy I love my genetic grandson with, and I hope that by giving him some privacy to make up his own mind is something he'll take into adult life with him as a fond memory that his grandma and papa Coco were always on his side. I worry incessantly because of his self-abusing behaviors. I lost my beautiful little sister to suicide, which is something I almost didn't survive, and I don't believe I'd survive losing him to it now.

The trick, for me, is to never let his behaviors anger me. It's SO easy when a thirteen-year-old boy ignores me, mumbles so I can't hear his answers, or hides from me, or refuses to accept gifts from me, or refuses to engage in any conversation from me, for me to just get angry and accuse him of just trying to make me mad. But I don't believe that is what's at work here. I think he's in pain and doesn't know how to express it. My therapist helps me with this. He says, of teens who behave this way, "If you're stranded on a deserted island and only have one sign to hold up, and that sign says "F* you!" Then that's the only sign you have to ask for help with." I don't believe my grandson is angry. I believe he's hurt. So I won't let his sign anger me.

They've all gone home now, and I'm alone at the beach. I made a horrific discovery of termites around my back door at the beach and am in a panic to find a contractor who will help me remove and replace the floor joists, and install a new back door. so I don't know how long I'll be here this trip, but if I can't get good contractor help, I'll be forced to fix the floor joists and back door myself, so I may be here for a while. It's okay. I very much enjoy being alone. Maybe I'm connecting so well with my grandson because I'm more like him than people realize. I like to hide away.

As a child in the 1960s and 1970s, video games were not a way to escape reality. However, I had a huge box filled with Hot wheels and Matchbox cars, a fair supply of Legos and LIncoln logs. EVERY SINGLE DAY after school, until I was almost 16 years old, I would hide away to play with those cars and Legos. I would create scenarios in my head. I would suffer horrific abuse at Catholic school, and then go home and write a story of my own. The ugly cars were driven by the mean kids and teachers and nuns and priests. The beautiful cars were driven my me and my friends, many of whom were imaginary. I would have these long, complicated storylines that I'd live through, using my fingers to drive the cars around in a city of my own creation. That was my version of today's video games. If I had been born later, I'd probably have been a gamer. Instead, while I no longer play with them, I do obsessively collect large, 1/18th scale metal cars (about the size of a shoebox). I have 200 of them now. somehow, I can't stop myself from buying them. I assume it is because holding them in my hand connects me to the safest place of my childhood: Alone with my cars in a world I control because I'm the author.

Writing my novels was me controlling the stories. Playing with the toy cars once helped me do the same thing.

I love everyone on this forum.

Be well!

[StartingHealing]

Hi PapaCoco,

Some things that I have gleaned from my own path that I hope will help.  Children pickup and internalize what is happening in the environment.  Gabor Mate has videos on what the effect of being a wee one in WW2 has had. That dove tails with my own unearthing of the dysfunctional family dynamics at play with my 1st mother.  Which got carried on by her, 1st father dying, which ended up with me being placed and raised by genetic strangers. {That session of hypnotherapy was..  }  I wasn't physically withheld anything. Had all the food I could eat, warm clothes, books, etc.  There for a long time I never felt integrated into that family.  How could I?  Genetically different, interests wasn't the same.  Was the 'odd duck'. Abusive situations while in the womb, + separation trauma + being the odd duck + not really 'fitting' into the family dynamic. With the efforts of attempting to force me to fit a designated role in the family ended up painfully shy. Spoke very softly, hard to look full on into somebody's face, didn't really have much choice in things either except for books that I found at the thrift store.  Books were my refuge. A place where for a while I could get sucked into the story where the good guys won, the hero got the girl or the gal got the guy, and somehow the characters found the strength to keep going. At one time I had 500-750 paperbacks as a rotating library. 

I can see where video games would take the same place as books.  Something to focus on, something that gives a sense of control, an area that the rules never change, something that provides an opportunity to develop, a place where there is agency.  Something that also could also provide a sense of group, at least for this one thing there are others that share that same one thing with me.   

PC, does the older boy do any creative stuff? I'm wondering if that would be helpful for him. I know it was for me. Getting to use my hands for making things, then getting into repairing things, gave to me a sense that I could "do".  That I could figure things out and have something I could point to and say "I made that. I built that. I repaired that."  Maybe that's something that you and him could do.  No expectations except make something.  low tech, no 3d printers etc. Something that will be messy and fun.

Wishing you and yours all the best

[Chart]

Finally, I wondered if he was having an inner war between what he wanted and what he thought we wanted him to want.

I think you nailed it there!

I don't know why he gets so paralyzed when people offer to give him things. 

Because he doesn't feel he "deserves" those things. Low self-image, confusion. This ties in perfectly with what you described above as his "inner war". I think many of us know this feeling.

The trick, for me, is to never let his behaviors anger me.

Bravo!!! I wish I could say the same for myself regarding many things I did with my own children. I hope I never went too far, but I know now that I was very often "angry" when it wasn't about them at all... it was about me and my need to control and lack of patience... and of course, my trauma...

For your eldest grandson... I'm wondering if there's not some way you could communicate with him that you also feel like you don't deserve so many things... somehow break the ice and talk a little (and definitely go slow) about your own sense of not having value... Maybe that's a tricky idea, definitely not easy... but if your eldest grandson could hear his beloved grandfather talk about feelings of worthlessness... he might not feel so "broken" or out of the ordinary.

Idea: Can you talk to your son, his father, about how you yourself feel? Does your son know about your trauma? what's the chance the three generations of men in the family could go on a camping weekend? The evenings around the fire, out in nature, far from the BS of modern life, can bring out another aspect of ourselves. At this moment it's much more acceptable to talk about our feelings and our life. Without looking for a response, you could open up and recount a little of your struggle...

Just some ideas... please filter and disregard where it's not appropriate. I am not a therapist! (I just play one on TV )
 

[AphoticAtramentous]

I've written three novels in my life so far and they truly turned out to be amazing books.

That's amazing!

but he's so incapable of making decisions that he's just himming and hawing now

The trick, for me, is to never let his behaviors anger me. It's SO easy when a thirteen-year-old boy ignores me, mumbles so I can't hear his answers, or hides from me, or refuses to accept gifts from me, or refuses to engage in any conversation from me, for me to just get angry and accuse him of just trying to make me mad. But I don't believe that is what's at work here.  I think he's in pain and doesn't know how to express it. My therapist helps me with this. He says, of teens who behave this way, "If you're stranded on a deserted island and only have one sign to hold up, and that sign says "F* you!" Then that's the only sign you have to ask for help with." I don't believe my grandson is angry. I believe he's hurt. So I won't let his sign anger me.

Your awareness is incredible. Of course, I cannot tell how accurate that insight reflects your grandson in reality, but at least when I apply those theories to my own experiences, I find your insights extremely accurate. I think deep down we know exactly what we want but we're so overcome by our own trauma, depression, and anxiety, that it causes an influx of critical thoughts and doubts, causing us to freeze in place, unable to decide who, what, when, where, and why.

Writing my novels was me controlling the stories. Playing with the toy cars once helped me do the same thing.

Absolutely. I initially read quite a lot as a child, but then I eventually stopped... wouldn't touch any books, TV series, nor movies, because I didn't want to be surprised or disappointed by the way a story would go. Writing ended up being my primary escape because I could control the stories. It always ended up the way I wanted it to, because it was MY story. If they're not overly personal, I would love to read the stories you've made... but I also have far too much going on in my life at the moment to fit in any extra activities, so it would be... a fairly delayed process.

Your accounts are as relatable as ever, Papa Coco. Thanks for sharing. I hope you can get rid of those pesky termites soon!

Regards,
Aphotic.

[Papa Coco]

I am so grateful for all the responses you've each sent to me.

I'm learning about myself through my grandson, and through your feedback on my stories about him.

I'm currently of the opinion that this is Autism Spectrum + ADHD + Bullying at work in him. He hates emotion. He hides from it. He leaves teh room when we sing happy birthday to him on his Birthday. He returns for a piece of cake and some gifts. On his 10th birthday he took me aside and told me that he doesn't like the emotions he feels when we sing to him. When he was 3-5 years of age, I was his best friend. He couldn't get enough of me. He was my little sidekick. And every visit he made to my house, he had a specific routine we absolutely HAD to follow. First he had to sit on my lap in my Jeep so he could pretend to drive me to McDonald's. I'd have to place an order. He'd open the window and pretend to pay for my food, he'd grab an invisible bag and give it to me to eat. THEN we'd have to get into Gramma Coco's Jeep and do the same thing. THEN we'd have to go into my old Dodge pickup and do the same thing. And if ANY visit did not include all three vehicles, then h*ll hath no fury as his meltdown's scorn. He would become 100% inconsolable, until we all changed the plans to let him finish the routine in all three vehicles. This is, to me, a clear sign of a spectrum meltdown. I raised a spectrum child. I know the signs. They're wonderful, amazing, deeply intelligent people, who just need us to accept them for not being comfortable in social settings.

I'm taking your suggestions seriously. I don't know that he and I will ever find common ground in hobbies, but I can watch for something we can connect with. It was Jeeps. I had to make Jeep cakes for him for every birthday. I bought him his first Powerwheels Jeep that he and his little brother could drive around the neighborhood in. I had to give him Jeep toys for all his birthdays. But now he has ZERO interest in Jeeps. He and I have done a few short bike rides together. Maybe I could capitalize on that for a while. I also bought him is first big-boy bike, which he and I have not ridden together yet.

I also like the idea of sitting down with him one day and carefully asking if he would be okay if I talk personal stuff for just a single moment. Per your suggestion above, I want to share with him how badly bullied I was when I was his age. I want him to know that he's not the only young man who had to endure it. That could end up being a very strong place where he can find connection with me. When I truly get into his view as someone who knows what it feels like to be an outcast at school, maybe he'll warm up to me a bit more. When the abuse was happening, Gramma Coco (who is also a bit on the spectrum) took him aside. The boy that led the abuse lived across the street, so we knew him. She told my grandson "I HATE [bully's name] TOO!" Ever since she said that to him, she's been the grandparent he feels most connected with. She truly is the person right now who can talk most openly with him. If I want to tag onto that connection, maybe letting him know that I hid away in my room too just like he does, and that I TOTALLY understand why he does it, and that I TOTALLY don't get angry at his shyness the way other people do, that maybe he'll start to connect with me again the way he used to. 

Our connection was strong when he was 3-5 years old. I would go to work the day after any visit and my peers would laughingly say, "Looks like you had some grandson time last night." I'd ask why they said that and they'd report, "You just have glow to you whenever you get time with him." I had no idea I could be read so well by my peers on the job site.

He's 13 now. A dark year for many of us. Before I know it he'll be 15-1/2, and...Hmm...I still drive Jeeps. Maybe I can be lucky enough to participate in teaching him how to drive for real. Wouldn't it be cool if I could be the grandfather sitting in the passenger seat while he drives me for real through a McDonald's drive-thru and orders me a real happy meal? That thought REALLY warms my heart right now. Something to shoot for.

I love all of you!
Papa Coco!

[Papa Coco]

I'm in a lot of pain today.

I try to feel a connection with people when I respond to them. Somedays I am under my own traumas and can't find connection beyond my own inner turmoil. Those are the days I REALLY should not get on the forum, and I should just lay in bed and think about my trauma alone.

Sometimes I respond to people when I shouldn't. Some days, my own drama is too overwhelming for me, and I don't feel myself able to connect beyond my own inner anxiety. Sometimes, on days like that, I say the wrong things and it hurts people. When I hurt someone else, I hurt myself ten-fold.

One of my overarching problems from CPTSD is my inability to disconnect my pain from the pain of others. On Sunday, I watched two of the 10-y/o racers get into a crash on the course, One of them ended up needing an aid car. I had to hide away, because I couldn't stop crying over what I'd seen. I realize it's because of my inability to not feel the pain of others. That is why I never went to college to become a health care professional. As a volunteer for sexual assault victim advocacy in the 1990s, I ended up quitting after a few years because I kept crying myself to sleep every night over the pain that was happening to the people who I advocated for. I know I could never be a therapist of any kind, because I wouldn't be able to detach from the pain that I was trying to help others with.

I often feel that pain here on the forum. I try so hard to respond to everyone, because I always feel like when anyone writes something personal, the worst response is no response at all. So I feel like responding is important. Sometimes I'm not in a good place, and on those days I shouldn't respond at all.

But now I'm learning that a bad response is even worse than no response.

After watching the accident, and dealing with other family stressors, I'm aware that I shouldn't be responding right now to anyone. I'm not taking a break, but I'm going to try and get focused on something other than the forum for a few days. My grandson's final race of the 2024 season is coming up this Saturday (So I can't host my usual Zoom this Saturday BTW), and I hope to see the little accident victim back at the track. He was hurt pretty bad, so I'm pretty concerned. Meanwhile, I'm not in any condition to focus on writing good responses right now. I promise, as soon as I start to feel better in my inner world, I'll be right back here in the real world again, reading and posting.

I sincerely hope everyone is doing well and feeling supported.

We're stronger together. We need each other. And, like the airlines always say, I need to put my own mask on first before I try to connect with anyone else.

I'm not going far. I just need a couple of days in some reflective time figuring out my own situation so I don't accidentally say something hurtful to anyone else.

[Chart]

PapaCoco I think I know how you feel.

There is not a human on earth who has not caused pain to another. We are human, and the best of us cannot be perfect. Life isn't like that. Pain is necessary. And it doesn't always come from someone else. I believe much more often than we realize, we create our own pain. Which means, yes, we are responsible. But this does not mean we are guilty. We are here to learn. And live and enjoy. And we could never do that if we did not know it's opposite. We live because we will die. We love because we choose not to express the hate which is well and thriving inside us.

PapaCoco, you have done no wrong. You have simply participated in the cosmic cycle, witnessed, acted, and felt. And now you can let it go.

Take whatever time you need. Especially if it is spent loving yourself as you so well deserve.

[Desert Flower]

Papa Coco, I'm feeling s****y myself and I don't know if you'll be reading this but I just wanted to say I cannot imagine what you might have said or say on this forum that could (have) hurt someone. All I read from you was utterly supportive and loving and kind.
I do hope you feel better. I hope we all will. Take care, sending you love and hugs     

[NarcKiddo]

Hey, Papa C - I was sad to read about the accident on the track. Hope the little fella is doing OK.

Thinking of you.