Bermuda's Memories - Overflow Journal 1

Started by Bermuda, May 21, 2021, 12:08:29 PM

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Bermuda

I was no longer receiving feedback on my last three journal posts. I suppose I must have reached the limit. So, I've started this journal as a continuation. I think this journal will probably end up with a lot more drivel and less intrusive memories, because that's where I am at right now on my journey.

I talk about about how the seemingly nuanced events have effected me very deeply compared to things that others would classify as deeply traumatic. I mentioned how it's because when you only know trauma, your brain cannot comprehend things as traumatic. At least that's how it feels for me. There's no normal to compare to.

So, here's a story that is one of those things that has been on my mind lately: We were sitting in the back of the car, I was maybe 10 years old. My mother had the radio on and I was staring at my feet mouthing along to the song, or at least I thought. One of my brothers started harassing me about me singing, and then the whole family pitched in and started making fun of me, and my voice, even though I hadn't even realised I had been making a sound. I rarely made sounds.

As an adult I have had so much trouble speaking up for myself, and people have joked about my voice in passing. Nothing serious, but it really hurts me deeply. I have traveled a lot and have mixed unplaceable accent and people say my voice is too squeaky and quiet. When you seem unconfident people think you're lying. My voice on the outside doesn't represent me well. I am in my midthirties, and I have this silly goal that someday I want to go on stage and sing a karaoke song. Not because I want to sing well, but because I want to sing aloud. I envy people with confidence to speak, to be looked at. People who have a style of their own. I am considering getting a voice coach just to learn to be confident. I just want to overcome this very big little trauma.

I do love mice, but I am not a mouse.

Eidolon

Bermuda, that's awful of them to do. Your goal isn't silly- if it builds confidence, I think you should do it. :hugs: Cheers to you! You can do it!

Hope67

Quote from: Bermuda on May 21, 2021, 12:08:29 PM
I mentioned how it's because when you only know trauma, your brain cannot comprehend things as traumatic. At least that's how it feels for me. There's no normal to compare to.



Hi Bermuda,
I think this is really insightful, and I relate to this very much.
Hope  :)

Blueberry

Quote from: Bermuda on May 21, 2021, 12:08:29 PM
I was no longer receiving feedback on my last three journal posts. I suppose I must have reached the limit. So, I've started this journal as a continuation. I think this journal will probably end up with a lot more drivel and less intrusive memories, because that's where I am at right now on my journey.
Actually there is no limit on Recovery Journals. You can write 35 pages if you like!

If you're not receiving feedback, it could be that there are fewer mbrs on the forum - it does vary here depending on each person's recovery process. It could also be that mbrs are reading but don't have the wherewithal to post, not even an emoticon. 

When I saw Overflow Journal I thought it might be your Journal of overflow feelings - for when things are really bad! I was wrong.

I haven't read the rest of your post, so please excuse me for not saying anything to that.

Bermuda

Thanks all for commenting. I like that my words resonate with others. Oh Blueberry, I hadn't thought of that, but no. It's not an overflow of emotions. Quite the opposite really.

Things have changed, real physical things that have put even further distance between myself and my past. I will be intentionally vague here, so pardon as I am working through it myself, but I am not mourning. I feel a sense of release. I know their real power over me is gone.

Somehow it's easier to live every day with my past when I know that it is really over. They cannot hurt me, they cannot come for me, no one will help them, no one believes them, they have no persuasion left. I could return to the country I come from if I wanted to, but I don't.

I could have at least a level of normalcy from the perspective of onlookers.

It still feels heavy, and I still feel afraid every day, I still have no sense of self, but at least I know that everything is changing and I can too without it being a detriment to my safety.  :yes:

Armadillo

Hi I'm not sure I was seeing your posts pop up in my unread feed!

I relate to what you wrote a lot. I was teased a lot for my voice or for appearing shy and scared even when I didn't know I was feeling that way. I also don't want to speak up, or be seen. I'm sorry your whole family teased you.

I think it's a great idea to get a voice coach, not to change your voice but to feel more confident in using what you have, however it shows up.

I don't know if it will resonate for you but I loved this TED talk by Amanda Gorman about using your voice...she's the young poet who spoke at Joe Biden's inauguration in the US. She has a speech impediment.  https://www.ted.com/talks/amanda_gorman_using_your_voice_is_a_political_choice/up-next?language=en

Bermuda

Thanks for commenting Armadillo. I did watch part of that video, but I had to stop.

Apparently poetry is triggering for me. What isn't?? I will laugh instead of cry this time.  :disappear:

Memory time: I used to write, in secret. I even had some works published as a teenager. Language, oddly enough, has always been my passion. One of the things I was able to sneak away when I was kicked out were my binders. I kept them as a reminder to myself that what happened was real, and to remind myself to keep myself safe in a sense, to remind myself of the horrors. They were my most precious things. When I finally had a place to live, I had an ex boyfriend who got really angry and broke into my home. He stole my computer, took a hammer to the walls and to my furniture, and the worst of it I didn't realise until much later when I went to open my binders. He had replaced the pages with blank sheets.

It was hugely devistating at the time. Although, I hardly remember now any of my words I had memorised then, I clung to those words and thoughts like they would save me... But those words may have saved me for a time, but they would have imprisoned me now.

So, good job narcissistic ex.  :applause: :fallingbricks:

Armadillo

Oh wow. I really wish I could have known and been more sensitive to your trigger. It. Makes complete sense why that would be a trigger for you. Anyway my sentiment was simply that I think your voice is perfect as it is and I hope there comes a time when you can use it as you want.

Hope67

Hi Bermuda,
I read what you wrote about how your ex treated you.  I don't think he treated you well at all.  Unkind things. 
I hope you don't mind my saying that.

I agree with the sentiment expressed by Armadillo that I also hope you get to use your voice how you want to, and that you can express whatever you want to.
Hope  :)

Bermuda

#9
I haven't posted in a while. Most things are going well, and the things that haven't been well feel mostly manageable.

I am pregnant with my second, and my midwife asked me personal questions about my past, and then about medical history, and asked me several times if these thing effect me now. I said no. That was a partial truth. They effect me constantly in everything I do, but no they don't effect me in the way she would assume. She kindly offered me access to counselling if I wanted, and I assured her again that it's fine. I know it's not fine, but it's fine.

Somehow this assumption and questioning was quite triggering for me. People asking about family medical history is triggering. Asking if I have ever been SA'd is triggering. She asked if the reason I don't know my family medical history is related to childhood abuse, I said yes. (Even though it's much more complicated that that.) That was also triggering. I don't think of these things consciously regularly.

The pregnancy hormones are flowing, and I feel less steady than usual. I know I've mentioned this before, and it's such a guilty thought, but I was playing outside with a little one taking photos together, and I see my abuser in my own face, and in my son's face. It hurts me every time. I have spent my whole life trying to be and do better, and to see it in my aging face every day is hard.

rainydiary

Bermuda, I appreciate you sharing.  I am bothered by your experience with the midwife questioning you the way they did.  I find it challenging when others assume they know what is best for us without asking us.  And then when we say what we need still being met with resistance or push back.  Sometimes we need that outside perspective but not always. 

I feel in my heart your reflection of your face.  I hope that you find some ease and balance and steadiness.  I already said this however I truly appreciate you sharing your story. 

Armee

Congratulations Bermuda!!!!

I can understand why you would say you are fine even when you are not, really, fine. Maybe as trust develops you can feel comfortable telling the midwife how you would like to be treated in the course of pregnancy and childbirth, including not being asked intrusive questions.

BeeKeeper

Hello Bermuda, I'm glad you returned.

You said several things which rang true for me, and wanted to comment on medical history, and face reflections.

The ideal is to  review the record so the patient is spared a  painful recounting. Not everyone approaches it like that, and even with electronic medical records "up the wazoo" people still want to start from Day One. Each time I go in, I'm asked about my pain levels and if I anyone is abusing me physically or emotionally. Personally, I believe the the medical profession is slow on the uptake of reality and this is their effort to "catch" problems early and make referrals if necessary.   I know how hard that is. With each negative response, I'm brought back to the positive memories. 

Face reflections happen so frequently. Daily, if you live with your mini-them or looking at yourself in the mirror. A couple days ago, I saw my "morning face" and thought, "you're so ugly" but recognized immediately that needed revision. I changed it to, "this is what wear and tear looks like." And it does! The eye bags, scars, all of it. Just time passing. Sure I'd like to see my teenage or twentysomething face, but I have photos!  :bigwink:

I often "see" my father and my sister starting back at me. (eyes rolling!) When that happens, I look closer and anchor myself to one or two unique, not necessarily happy or beautiful marks. Then I focus on how I've managed to care for myself and all I've learned so that I can stand upright and see that mirror.

I do the same with my D or my GC who walk and talk like their other DNA half. I choose one facial part, for my GS it's his lips, for my D, it's her smile, she definitely has mine.

Congrats on your pregnancy, that's a mixed bag of joy and suffering. Hormones galore and people like the midwife getting up close and personal, it's a tight-rope walk.  Keep balancing.  :hug:

Bermuda

Thank you for your comments.

Memories and reflection: There were some times growing up that I lived where my family's name is very prominent for all the wrong reasons, and they owned a large portion of this town. Because of my face, I was often asked if I was a [insert mother's maiden name]. The question was never one that was positive, aside from one time when another kid exclaimed that I lived in a castle. My mother was cruel, like her mother. I had teachers who taught my mother, and on my first day of school a teacher had bought me school supplies, because she already knew I wouldn't have any. She had never met me, my mother did not attend any meetings, but she knew. My mother was extremely angry about this. I am accustomed to the pity of my name, and my face, and familial resemblence is hard for me. I spent my whole childhood distancing myself, trying to be better, and to create a new me. When I tell my midwife I am fine, it's because I am. I will never be whole, or normal. I will always be a combination of the past that started before me, the present, and what I hope for the future. The past can't be fixed. My past is not fine. It will never be fine. It is horrible, and I do live with it. I accept that it's horrific, nightmarish, and that it deeply shaped all major decisions I've made. ...But I am winning. I don't want to be reminded of the ways in which I am different and will never be normal, when I have worked my whole life to be exceptionally average. I just want to slide under the raidar, to pass as normal, and surprise questions just remind me of all of the forestated. I freeze when I am questioned, I spoke about this before, and Kizzy explained that it's a normal C-PTSD response, but if someone speaks to me at all unexpectedly, I cannot formulate a proper response I can't even think of a response as if my brain just shuts off, and sometimes I get none out at all. I wouldn't be able to recall my address for example... In this case I said I'm fine. ...Which was true of my present self, or my self before I was asked about my family history.


Bermuda

#14
...Just a sidenote about this freeze response, and a memory that just returned. I have suffered with this "thing" for as long as I can remember, and it doesn't only effect my speech. It effects my memory too.

I remember being in middle school, and all of the class was forced to their lockers. They needed to search them. Although I absolutely had nothing to hide, and although I used the same combination lock the whole year, I suddenly could not recall how to open it. Not even just the numbers, but the sequence twice to the right, once to the left, etc. I suddenly had no idea how to open a combination lock. I stood there, as I always do in these situations, looking extremely guilty as everyone stared at me. Long story short, everyone thought I was daft and my lock was cut off. The weirdest thing is, the memory doesn't return as it was. I couldn't recall it to myself with cerainty the next day.

This is something I have attributed to C-PTSD over the years. It was happening twenty-five years ago, and it still happens now. C-PTSD is strange.