Understanding depression and anxiety from Pete Walker

[Geneva]

Wasn't sure if this is better placed in books section but directly relates feelings of anxiety and depression.

Have reduced my reading around CPTSD for the moment while reflecting on Pete Walker's understanding of depression and anxiety. I'm tempted to go with a simplistic understanding and my reading of Pete's work seems to offer this, if I've understood correctly. I'm wondering if anyone familiar with Pete's work or similar has reached the same conclusions. My understanding may be too narrow though so would welcome anyone's thoughts on this, as he's a bright light in recovery writing, both as a clinician and someone with direct experience of recovering with CPTSD.

When our developmental relational needs aren't met by caregivers, we can experience abandonment depression. We become overwhelmed by having no one and no place to turn for safety and these feelings will come up for processing again and again. 

If we can allow ourselves to feel this depression rooted in the original abandonment, then it can help transform depression. It will require us to sit with those feelings and acknowledge both the original fears (reassuring ourselves we are now safe), and express grief at the loss of not experiencing loving security at a stage when we needed it. It will often also require us to become angry at the injustice of the situation and with the caregiver who couldn't/ didn't provide. The anger is one way we re-establish boundaries and a sense of ongoing safety and the tears help with processing and release.

Just wanted to check with others..is Pete saying that anxiety is the next stage up, when experiencing depression is something we would rather avoid and so feelings of anxiety develop as a defence? As though it's easier to experience anxiety than go back to re-experiencing the original feelings of abandonment depression, which can feel the most difficult, both originally and now.

I was always struck by Pete describing how even now, he gives himself space to cry at those moments of reconnecting with the original abandonment rather than using strategies to avoid it - like being busy, spacing out etc. Of course the pacing of all of this is different for everyone and everyone's recovery journey is an individual one. It's just got me thinking about things differently. If anyone's wondered the same, would be happy to hear from you.

[woodsgnome]

Leaning into the hurt places can seem strange in a world where we seek immediate distractions to flee what we perceive as not right.

Seems natural, until we realize that there's a pain greater than pain itself -- the pain of running from ourselves. What's deep inside just wants to be met, allowed to come home and heal a broken heart.

I've heard this described in terms of "the pain just wants to be held." It never was, but now it can even if reluctantly we have to do it ourselves. Simply, yet thoroughly; holding the pain needn't be elaborate -- just to acknowledge, and accept, the pain's presence. This doesn't mean  tolerating the original pain; mostly it just suggests the deep grief we're acknowledging.

Grieving sounds sad yet is also unavoidable, as Walker notes. It seems an essential part of the relief/release process we, and the pain, need; and creates a space for our deepest feelings to emerge. We hold our pain with no need for understanding what went wrong anymore -- the abuse was senseless then, and is so now. In doing so, we're showing that we're here, now, for that pain, and for ourselves.

The more I've waded into my own messy memories the more I've found that I can handle it. At first it seemed like adding more pain on top of the old stuff, but slowly I've found that while I can never outrun the hurt, I can stop, hold it, soothe it, perhaps cry a bit, and just be still with the parts that have never felt cared about before.

Finally, by paying attention the desperately needed healing has a better chance than just running from or ignoring the original pain and its leftover symptoms. This may not fully erase them, but it sets up a relief pattern that feels more healing. Even if it means we have to become our own caregivers.

Regarding Pete Walker's work -- yes, he is one of the handful of writers touching on cptsd issues who made much sense -- in large part because he spoke of and to the pain that many who haven't traveled these rougher patches just don't seem to fully grasp. Not their fault, and good for them that they didn't have to suffer that pain directly. Yet it makes a difference on this end to sense that Walker's expertise was hard-won, so to speak.

[dreamriver]

Leaning into the hurt places can seem strange in a world where we seek immediate distractions to flee what we perceive as not right.

Seems natural, until we realize that there's a pain greater than pain itself -- the pain of running from ourselves. What's deep inside just wants to be met, allowed to come home and heal a broken heart.

I've heard this described in terms of "the pain just wants to be held." It never was, but now it can even if reluctantly we have to do it ourselves. Simply, yet thoroughly; holding the pain needn't be elaborate -- just to acknowledge, and accept, the pain's presence. This doesn't mean  tolerating the original pain; mostly it just suggests the deep grief we're acknowledging.

Grieving sounds sad yet is also unavoidable, as Walker notes. It seems an essential part of the relief/release process we, and the pain, need; and creates a space for our deepest feelings to emerge. We hold our pain with no need for understanding what went wrong anymore -- the abuse was senseless then, and is so now. In doing so, we're showing that we're here, now, for that pain, and for ourselves.

The more I've waded into my own messy memories the more I've found that I can handle it. At first it seemed like adding more pain on top of the old stuff, but slowly I've found that while I can never outrun the hurt, I can stop, hold it, soothe it, perhaps cry a bit, and just be still with the parts that have never felt cared about before.

Finally, by paying attention the desperately needed healing has a better chance than just running from or ignoring the original pain and its leftover symptoms. This may not fully erase them, but it sets up a relief pattern that feels more healing. Even if it means we have to become our own caregivers.

Regarding Pete Walker's work -- yes, he is one of the handful of writers touching on cptsd issues who made much sense -- in large part because he spoke of and to the pain that many who haven't traveled these rougher patches just don't seem to fully grasp. Not their fault, and good for them that they didn't have to suffer that pain directly. Yet it makes a difference on this end to sense that Walker's expertise was hard-won, so to speak.

All of this is amazingly said - thank you so much Woodsgnome this shined through to me today 

[Geneva]

thanks woodsgnome for your reply.

I know personally there have been a lot of tears and anxiety and they often happen together. With the anxiety comes huge amounts of adrenaline - to run - and so it makes sense to try and be closer to some of those difficult feelings rather than to outrun them. It does take a while to learn to be there for ourselves and to be with the messy stuff.

[Dontaskme495]

I finished Pete's Surviving to Thriving recently. I did discover that my anger and anxiety were indeed covers for fear, saddness, disappointment, embarrassment and so on when I could stay with them/ not self-abandon. As a late 20's male, being advised to cry or safely anger was something I've never been advised to do before. Before reading his book, I probably went 10 years without a single tear. Still not great at it but I can confirm that it does evaporate a lot of pain.

Depression is a different story. Try as I might to stay with it, I find myself reflexively running away from that feeling, which throws me back into anxiety. Having a great deal of trouble surrendering to that feeling at this point in recovery.