Bermuda's Memories - Overflow Journal 1

[Hope67]

 

[Bermuda]

This is just a memory, so I will put it here instead of disturbed relationships.

I recently shared about flying away from a relationship. It triggered this other memory and it's been haunting me. I feel a lot of guilt about this, and that. Sometimes I think I am being ridiculous and that I don't even have CPTSD... but this memory...

I was in a relationship with someone a long time ago. We stayed together. He wanted me to meet his family. His parents were both divorced and happily remarried. We left on a trip where I met his father first because there was a funeral. The experience was positive. They thought me a bit odd. In the neighbourhood no one had seen someone who looked like me. Someone actually shouted at me in the street asking me what I was doing there, but it was more like I was an oddity rather than anything harmful. His father and I played bones all night, and it was generally a good time. Everyone was very nice to me.

When I met his mother the experience couldn't have been any more different. She was new agey and her and her husband had kamasutra statues everywhere, which was quite shocking for me at the time. Her new husband was an artist and they lived in a very well-developed neighbourhood. His mother found everything I said or did odd. She questioned me a lot. I remember distinctly her telling me about her heirloom tomatoes from the garden, and asking me if I wanted to try them. She said she had just baked some nice pumpernickel. I told her how wonderful that would be. Then she went through the fridge getting out lots of cheese and meats, and asking me what I want. I told her I wanted just tomatoes on pumpernickel with pepper. She reconfirmed that I didn't want butter or anything else. She got quite upset and started acting like I had an eating disorder, when in reality I was just really looking forward to the taste of fresh tomatoes.

For a long time I looked back on this thinking I was wrong, but I'm in a place now where I can say that I just love pumpernickel and tomatoes. That's healing for you. That requires no justification.

Anyway, as the day went on we were sitting at the table and I don't remember what it was his mother was saying about me, but it triggered me, so instead of crying publicly, I excused myself to the bathroom. I was crying in the bathroom when his mother and her husband came outside the bathroom and asked me to come out. I told them sobbing that I need a moment. They started banging on the door. I panicked. I had to get out, so I opened the door, and they were blocking my way now yelling at me. I pushed through them, and I literally ran out of that house. My boyfriend at the time chased after me.

He was such a nice person. Extremely kind, and so sensitive... He was crying too, running, chasing me, urging me to stop. I didn't stop. I literally ran away. I never got my things. I never saw him again. I flew out.

I just Googled him, and I see he has an extremely successful career and turned out to be a great person. Somehow I feel like his mother was right about me, that I was bad for him. I didn't know about CPTSD at the time. I don't think I even believed my life was traumatic yet... but looking back, who does that? They didn't like me. They saw I was distressed, and they cornered me.

One of the things that my husband did that was different is that he never chased me, and eventually I stopped running.

I feel a lot of shame because I  know my behaviour hurt people. I know that I wasn't crazy and his mother was wrong, but I did hurt him. I erased my life and created a new one.

[Armee]

 

It's definitely cPTSD, Bermuda. Pretty bad case.    It's not a club anyone wants to be in but I know how helpful it is to see the truth and to stop denying it. This is PTSD. Add complexity. Lots and lots of it. You have PTSD for very good reasons. There is nothing wrong with YOU. You are an amazing person who has been hurt and who has turned on all survival instincts to survive. Sometimes that has lead you to fleeing.

I would have fled too. You were terrified and they cornered and chased you. That reaffirms in the brain that there is something to run from. You ran and ran but eventually you found someone who has provided a feeling of safety and acceptance and had beautiful kids. You're safe now. You're safe because you kept running until you found safety. Good job. Your survival skills let you survive.

[Moondance]

I feel a lot of shame because I  know my behaviour hurt people. I know that I wasn't crazy and his mother was wrong, but I did hurt him. I erased my life and created a new one.

I so relate to the shame.  I inherently have felt that shame for years, without knowing it.  And then add the continous incidences of shame thereafter is unbearable to think about it.

Thank you for sharing this memory Bermuda - it helps me in my journey.

 

[Bermuda]

Cultural identity is formed through exclusion, not through inclusion. It's a counter argument I have posed in my head so many times. Since I never had to courage to state this claim to a professor or as a counter to other students, I will do it here.

Cultural identify is formed through exclusion.

No one is born with a sense of cultural belonging. Rather people are born and develop familiarity, but you are not aware of a sense of commonality or togetherness until you are confronted with something else. We learned who we are through our interactions with others. We learn where we belong by learning where we don't belong.

I know this through trauma. I don't know where I am from or who I am. I am trapped somewhere not quite anywhere. I'm a "fourth country kid" who was told too many lies to distinguish what isn't a lie. I have an accent everywhere I go, and it changes depending on the subject or companion. I am confronted regularly by my strange habits, traditions, and colloquialisms. I am aware of them. I have learned that it is fine as long as I am consistent. I have absorbed so many, but they are not mine. I am an outsider, not because of my cultural similarity to you, but because of the things I do similarly to someone else who you perceive as different to you.

I know that cultural identity is formed through exclusion. I am reminded constantly.

[Bermuda]

Writing carefully.

Something interesting happened today during my lecture. The professor broke us out into groups twice, and I spoke with two groups about culture. The groups just happened to be of two very different nationalities, and both just accepted me as one of them as we spoke of cultural etiquette. It was so strange. They assumed I was from where they are from, and we spoke about that. It was odd to turn around later and talk to other people about different cultural etiquette, but it was based on an outside assumption. They saw me as from where they are from. I've never had that happen. It's always been that I feel excluded, like I can't speak about these things, or if I do it's safe to use a different culture from my background as referrence, because I don't want to be called a liar. I don't know if that makes sense, but it felt like a big deal.

The professor also called on me to answer a question another student asked. I knew the answer. Did I look like I knew the answer? Was he trying to help me to speak up? He does work to include me, when I don't include myself.

I was a lot less hypervigilant today too. I was actually kind of.. sloppy? I didn't have my books stacked perfectly. I didn't rewrite things several times until they looked perfect in my notes. It was okay. I also didn't do weird self-soothing things under the desk. I was generally okay.

[NarcKiddo]

It is interesting what happened with the two groups and that you did not feel excluded. That sounds as if it was a good experience for you.

It also sounds as if being included by the professor was a good experience for you. I am guessing that him calling on you to participate might not always feel comfortable. But you are not saying this experience was unpleasant, and you report in the next paragraph that you were generally okay.

This all sounds like a big deal and it sounds like a big deal in a good way. In which case I am very pleased for you.

[Blueberry]

No 'weird' self-soothing things under the desk   Sounds like you were maybe more relaxed for some reason. Which is good.   

[Bermuda]

Thanks for the replies. It really helps me to feel heard. I wish I could communicate these problems more effectively, but they just don't make sense.

I'm feeling a bit afraid. I just handed in a paper that I literally just wrote, again on cultural etiquette. It's posted publicly into a padlet. I have another paper due on Monday, and the worst part is that I have to do a presentation on my paper. It's about cultural averages. So, I am feeling so much like an impostor. These two groups that welcomed me are going to hear me present to everyone at the same time about "my" culture. I imagine them looking at each other confused, because they just heard me represent two different cultures last week.

I feel quite spread thin right now, and I know I am doing it intentionally. I always do. I try to make myself less nervous by making myself have less self. The worst is that it works for the most part, but it's not sustainable.

I kind of got myself into hosting a Halloween dinner party, and it just snowballed and I felt like I couldn't back out. I keep thinking about it like, I want to be the kind of person who throws dinner parties. I want to make that happen, and at least this dinner party will happen, but I feel like a burning incense stick. I am worried that I will be judged. I did a bit of research on how to throw a dinner party, and I have some great ideas, but I am just not a good host. I am so excited about my plans, and I shopped for great secondhand tableware and decor, and I have a great menu planned, a theme that is awesome... but people... They won't know the effort I put in and they might not like my ideas, maybe they won't even show up. They don't know that in hosting a Halloween party, in choosing a theme, in having people over that I am treading gently over all of my sensitivities.

[NarcKiddo]

The culture issue - I don't get the impression from your earlier post that you actually "pretended" to be "from" the culture in the group. You may say that you gave the appearance of being a part of that culture, but perhaps that is because you actually are. I think people can be part of more than one culture. I feel a strong cultural identity with England in many ways, but not all. We moved around so much when I was a child that when people ask where I am from, I quite often preface my response with "inasmuch as I am from anywhere, it is England". And then I will usually explain why I think there is some doubt. The groups may not react with any confusion at all and if they do I am sure you will have an opportunity to explain, if you wish. Or could you maybe head the perceived problem off by suggesting in your introduction that people can belong to more than one culture and for the purposes of this presentation "your" culture = x, because y. Sorry, I am relentlessly trying to problem solve here, which is not really the idea of journals. If I am overstepping, I apologise. Anyhow, I do resonate, and sympathise with the difficulty you perceive.

As for the party, I know all about the stress of party planning, too. I can assure you that they will know you put in a great deal of effort. Anyone who throws parties knows how much work is involved. For sure they may not appreciate how much additional effort you personally have had to make to give the party and you may not even want them ever to know the actuality of that. Those who come will enjoy it. That is why they are coming. If any of your guests don't show up that says everything about them and nothing about you. Also, it sounds to me like you are a good host. Look at the effort you are putting in. And you are excited about your plans, which is half the battle, honestly. A bit of enthusiasm goes a long way. It sounds really fun. Also, when hosting, if you start to feel uncomfortable or overwhelmed you can actually disappear to decompress on a pretext of doing some clearing up or organisation or seeing to the children, or whatever. If you think you might need to do that then perhaps you could tell your husband in advance what you want him to do if you go away to "clear up". For instance, you might want him to make sure that he keeps the guests company and forbids them to come after you to help. Or whatever feels best.

You've got this. 

[Bermuda]

Thanks NarcKiddo. It's not overstepping at all. It's much appreciated. I guess the difficulty is the explaining and the questions. It's disruptive to the flow. Everyone says where they are from, and when it gets to me the conversation is paused. I take up too much time, and it leads to questions which feel too personal, and everyone is then looking at me and sometimes other people fill in blanks for me. I actually really appreciate that. If I say some place that seems outlandish(irony), and someone else chimes it with "...But actually because of this..." I just need to take someone like that with me everywhere I go. I need more of those people.

No one at university knows. My professor has only read my papers that kind of allude to places elusively. I know he read part of my notes that actually called a city by name. 

[Bermuda]

I have been thinking about things. I think a lot of my difficulty goes beyond what is actual. I don't want to talk about it, not just because I don't want to pause conversation, and that I don't want attention, or to be seen as different. I also don't want to be seen as the same, and if my feelings are not seen as valid I would be devastated. I can't place my own discomfort, and it wouldn't stand up to cross examination. I don't want to be known at all. I have spent so long being intentionally vague, because I don't want people to know my name let alone anything else. I have had people exploit information.

I'm in my third semester of this particular course. No one knows me. I don't group up with others. I have avoided disclosing anything outside the context of assignments. In the beginning of every course there are always three groups that form from the second lecture on. Here I am, in my third course. People know my name. They come to me when they need notes or have a question, but we don't engage. I don't add anything, nor to I ask anything. I came to this conclusion as I was panicking about one of my papers being posted to Padlet, corrected publicly. Everyone saw it, and saw the notation. Maybe no one saw it. I was the first to hand it in, and I have made the corrections. Only two other people have even now handed in their papers (due tomorrow). My worries boiled down to the maple syrup of it, is just being seen. If I fall over in the forest, did I even fall at all?

My issues with self, identity, culture, (the r-word that is not real), and my appearance... It is all just a manifestation of my discomfort existing as anything more than a fallen tree that no one happens upon. I don't want to be identified. I can't handle the pressure that would cause. I can't maintain the expectation of fulfilling the terms of . classification. One day I'm a tree, the next I am fungus, the next I am moss, until I am sod. I don't want to disappoint. I don't want to deceive. Keeping myself invisible is the only way I know how to not disappoint anyone. I've never not disappointed someone.

[NarcKiddo]

I understand and resonate with the desire to remain invisible and not to be known. 

Not here in your journal, necessarily, but somewhere - could you tell me about Padlet, please? The teacher of my art class has set up a Padlet for the class and I am not sure how best to use it. It has all the course work and various resources uploaded to it and we are invited to comment and put our homework on there.  Maybe Padlet use is different for every scenario. I could ask her, of course, but - you know...

[StartingHealing]

@Bermuda

 

[Bermuda]

Memory - Trigger warning brief CSA mention

My cousin's story.

My cousin, for the sake of writing I will refer to as Jackie. Her name was not Jackie. She was the daughter of my mother's sister. My aunt. My aunt had grown up, as my mother had, but she became quite the opposite of my mother. She was frail, meager, quiet. She went from violent relationship to violent relationship. She kept in contact with her mother, who once tried to kidnap my cousin Jackie. My cousin was about my age. Her father sexually abused her over the span of several years, but my aunt was too afraid to escape. My cousin was blamed for it. My aunt stayed with us in our basement for a while, trying to get on her feet. My aunt went back and forth in the same way her husband went in and out of prison. Eventually she left, she married someone else. He was an abusive alcoholic. He was violent and would throw things. My cousin was maybe 12 at this time, and now had two baby siblings. Jackie still had visitation with her father. My cousin's home life was not good, and she became quite difficult as a result. She was very rebellious and ran away often. She spent nights out, not saying where she was going, and at 15 she fell pregnant.

We had always been taught to believe that Jackie was bad. When she stayed with us, she was always used as an example of how not to be. My mother had always loathed her. When Jackie became a mother, her, my aunt, her two toddlers, and my baby second cousin came and moved in with us. The violence had become too much for my aunt.

Because of the way Jackie was raised, she had no connection to her daughter. To her, her daughter was a mistake, a shame. I was the primary caretaker of my cousin's baby. My mother hated babies, and my aunt was too busy working non-stop trying to rebuild a life for her other two traumatised children.

One day, Jackie told me that she had to go somewhere quite far away to pick up some things from her daughter's father, for the baby he had never met. She left me to watch her daughter. My parent's were also out of the country for some weeks. I grew so attached to that little girl. I cared for her all day and all night. I dressed her, I fed her, I changed her. No one else would.

My cousin never came back.

After some time, family services came to take the baby. They had been notified by a neighbour of my cousin's birth father that Jackie had taken her baby to meet her own father. Mind you, my cousin was forced to live with him for years, and no one seemed to believe her, or care. But family services came, and they took my second cousin away.  I last heard that she was adopted by a distant relative.

On one of my mother's phishing accounts she posted several years ago a message directed at me that my cousin Jackie had been murdered. It took a quick Google search to learn that she had died in a car accident and that my mother had of course lied.

I realised that this was traumatising for my when I was in my early twenties, and while I was working as a dancer, someone told me that family services were going to take she children away. I broke into tears, and she asked me if that had happened to me. I told her the story of my cousin, and of my second cousin.

I don't know why it has taken me so long to write this memory, maybe because it is not my story. It is my cousin's story.