Master of my Seas Journal

[Master of my sea]

I have spent my life trying to please everyone in it. Doing what other people want and ignoring my own feelings and needs. I am trying to change that but man is it hard. At this point in my life I can honestly say I don't know who I am. It feels as if I have spent all my time, bending and twisting myself into what people want and need. In doing that I never learned about myself. My last therapist would regularly ask me what I like, what my hobbies are, what I enjoy and I couldn't answer. He was the first person to understand why. I can tell people hobbies and interests but I use generic things. Like listening to music, who doesn't like listening to music?
It's a strange feeling realising that you don't actually know yourself. If I don't know who I am, how can anyone else? I don't even know how to describe myself. Really bizarre.

I have always been a strong defender of other people. Fiercely protective of those I care about. To the point of putting myself in danger and getting hurt, just to protect those around me. Never have I had anyone protect me in the same way.
I have had support throughout my life from my family but I was never able to go to them when it really mattered. Things that no child should have to keep to themselves. It never felt like a safe space to talk about those things. Also if I'm brutally honest I didn't feel like anyone would really care. They might go through the motions but it wouldn't be as important as everything else that was going on. That's how I felt. Even now, my Mum knows a lot but she certainly doesn't know everything as I know it would upset her. I know she feels she failed me and I don't want her to feel worse. My Mum did the very best that she could and I truly believe that. She had a lot to deal with and as the youngest of 6 I kind of got lost in the mix. Until I started playing up. That became the only way I got noticed but the guilt I felt at causing my Mum more trouble was immense. I just wanted someone to realise that I existed too. In the end my oldest sister moved me in with her for 4 months so I was out of the toxic environment at home. It did help me at school and my mood did improve somewhat. But I was in constant fear for Mum and what she was having to deal with. One of my brothers and one of my sisters were still living at home and they were horrific. My brother was violent and my sister manipulative and spiteful. Also a thief. I was always worried about what was happening and I knew things were going on that I wasn't being told about. I would always find out when I went home at weekends and that just made my anxiety worse the next week. I dreaded moving back home but I also couldn't wait to be back so I could help my Mum.

I used to rely heavily on my oldest sister. She was like a second Mum for a lot of years. But I slowly started to realise that every time I went to her, I would end up getting a lecture on what I should or shouldn't be doing but done under the guise of advice and sincerity. It got to the point that when I found out I was pregnant and I told her, I asked her not to lecture me about it. Her response to that was 'well that means you weren't careful'. That was the very reason I was nervous about telling her. I knew there would be comments made. I find it really hard as in the last year or so I have gone virtually NC with all my siblings. I say virtually because I believe since I walked away I have spoken to 3 on at least one occasion, there was always a distinct reason and since those interactions there have been nothing.

I do not look back on my childhood and think of happy times. In fact I find it really hard to think of any and I really have to sift through memories before I come to one. Don't get me wrong they are there, just hard to find. I am only just really unpacking my childhood and all that has happened. I always placed a lot of my trauma starting when I was a teenager but my last T made me realise that my childhood was really damaging. I find that knowledge alone really hard to accept because I am really starting to see how badly I was failed. How I slipped through the cracks, even though many people knew home life was turbulent. I'm starting to appreciate where my anger comes from and why I struggle to maintain healthy relationships of any kind.

I know I have a very long way to go and I am currently not in therapy. It ended earlier this year and I have yet to find a way to tackle my anxiety and get back to the Dr's. I have a hard time trusting Dr's as I have been passed from pillar to post for years. I find going to the Dr's about my mental health really triggering. It took me trying to leave it all for me to finally be noticed and taken seriously by professionals. Unfortunately I only had 6 months with my last T. A real shame and a real loss for me as I really trusted this man. For the first time, I was telling my story and not being judged. Not being told I didn't have it that bad or that I was lying, or there were holes in my story. My weekly sessions were my lifeline and I miss him dearly. Unfortunately that is the way of it. I can only get 12-24 weeks of sessions through the NHS it would seem.
I know I'll get there, I have to. I have a small human depending on me and I am determined for them to NEVER feel the way I did as a child. That way I hope they will never feel like I do as an adult. I cannot protect my child from everything, I know that but I hope I can make sure my baby knows they will never be alone. That whenever they should need someone I will always be there.

I'm hoping I can use this space to help unjumble the mess in my head and make a bit more sense of it. Hopefully this will work as helpful tool whilst I'm getting therapy sorted out. I'm hoping I won't feel so alone. I don't have any friends, my relationship has just failed and my Mum lives across a body of water. It is just me and my child, so I'm also hoping that reading others stories and just interacting with those who understand will help me dip my toe back into the world if you like. At this point I'm ready to try anything.

[Papa Coco]

Hi Master of my Sea,

Ditto on the loss of identity. I can't write a resume. When pressed, I can't think of a single positive attribute or skill that I possess. And I also can't answer the questions about what I like or what are my interests.  My interests were always whatever interests my family or friends were into. All MY interests were taken away from me by controlling parents and siblings. But if I jump on the bandwagon and adopt the interests of my peer group, then that way I could join them in doing stuff. As soon as they changed interests, so did I. Because they weren't my interests. They were theirs. I was just a tagalong.

I'm sorry to hear that getting a therapist long term is not easy to do. Building trust with a T is crucial, and it takes time. My first 6 therapists were ineffective. Almost narcissistic themselves. They were nothing more than Cognitive Behavior Therapists. Cognitive behavior therapy is what I call dog-training. If you don't feel good, then scream into a pillow, read a self-help book, and pay me $150. I told you how to get better, now the rest is on you! CBT's seemed to enjoy telling me that they were right and I was wrong. They liked scolding me a bit when I did things that were driven by my trauma flashbacks.

I met my current Therapist, who is a Dialectical Behavioral Therapist, in 1989. DBT is therapy which is focused on respecting and integrating all the parts of our brains back together. VERY different from being scolded by the daddy in the room, and then screaming into a pillow and calling it therapy. He was one of the two Therapists who hosted a men's group I was in that ran for nearly 15 years. The other therapist was a Narcissistic CBT who found great pleasure in being smarter than everyone else. When the men's group finally ended, I signed up with the good therapist to be his one-on-one patient. He's been in my life for 33 years, and for 20 of those years he's been my one-on-one therapist. Any time anyone can gain a permanent therapist who is qualified to help with Trauma disorders, that's a good thing.

I haven't asked you this yet, but have you read Pete Walker's book yet? It's almost a necessity for CPTSD.  It's called Complex PTSD: From Surviving to Thriving. You are describing yourself as a fawn type, which you'll probably find is what most of us on this forum are.  In order to feel safe, we fawn over other people. We were most likely born with caring hearts, so we fawn, in part, because we really do care about other people. BUT>>> We also fawn because it's safer to help others than to be punished for not helping. It took me a long time to accept that I was the kindest man I've ever met, NOT because I'm naturally this selfless, but because I'm afraid NOT to be. Kindness is an action. Anyone can behave kindly. So I do. It keeps me from getting beaten up. That was a tough pill for me to swallow. But there's so much truth in it. It was fun to think that I was kind because I was just a good person. Learning that I'm kind for reasons of safety isn't as flattering. But it's true. I fawn because I'm afraid not to. It's also called "being a doormat."

I protect myself by Fawning. If I get your coffee, and hold the doors for you, you'll like me enough to not hurt me.  If Fawning doesn't work, I Flee. If I can escape you, and avoid you, your anger at me won't hurt me. If Fawning and Fleeing don't work then slip into Freezing, which is dissociation. My mind goes blank. I get silent. Silence used to help with my family. The more I tried to defend myself, the more the sharks wanted my blood. It's like they were predators. And what ignites the fury of a predator? Prey!. I was prey. The more I tried to defend myself the more excitedly they attacked me. So I learned to disconnect and stop talking. The more I just shut up and hid in my imagination, the less damage they could do to me. But when Freezing also doesn't fix the problem and I end up cornered, that's when I come out fighting. They used to say we either Fight or Flee. But Walker has taught us that it's four Fs, not two. We with CPTSD are always either fighting, fleeing, freezing or fawning.  All for the same reason: Self defense.  So my personal pattern is: To stay safe, I Fawn first; Flee second; Freeze third; and Fight as a last resort.

Fawns are beautiful people, but we carry it too far. We give up our own identity to become the Cinderella (For me, I call myself Cinder-Fella). It works. But it's an inauthentic way to live our lives.

I have confidence that you're going to find yourself eventually. I really recommend reading Pete Walker's book. It will help you to more fully grasp how you came to not know who you are.

When I think about what our families did to us, I compare it to what farmers do when they "break the spirit of a horse."  When a wild horse is captured and taken out of its freedom and its life of running and roaming and being a wild horse, the first thing the farmer does is "break its spirit." That horse is tied to posts. Fed factory-made horse food and hay that's been mechanically cut, dried, hauled and distributed in small amounts to the horse. When the horse behaves in a way that serves the farmer, the horse is rewarded. It's punished if it behaves like a free spirit. Eventually the horse's will is broken. It develops Stockholm Syndrome and gives in to its captors. It becomes a faithful beast of burden, pulling wagons and letting spoiled kids sit on its back. It forgets who it once was.

That's what our families did to us. They broke our spirits. They covered over our own sense of self so they could turn us into their servants, or worse: their emotional whipping posts who take all the blame for their shortcomings.

Getting our wild spirit back is a slow process, and we may never fully achieve it, but the more we accept that it's there, the better chance we have of regaining some measurable sense of who we are. Who we were born to be. Who our own personal spirit secretly wants us to be. I guess the current buzzword to describe this is "our authentic selves".

[Master of my sea]

Hey Papa Coco,

Oh I was always the tagalong. Even had it pointed out on many occasions.
I like to describe myself as a chameleon, I can be pretty much anything you want me to be. Don't like how chatty and energetic I am? No problem, when I am with you, I will be quiet and still. So many versions of myself for every single person in my life. It's no wonder I have always felt exhausted.
The problems arise when I can no longer keep up the act. When my own issues refuse to be ignored. All the 'friends' I have ever had have all been the same in the end. As long as I am available for them, to deal with their problems and be their shoulder, I am amazing and wonderful. As soon as I am not completely there, I am the worst person and I don't care about them. Or they just end up making my issues about them. So I gave up telling people the reality of my life. I remember losing lots of 'friends' in my last few years of secondary school because I refused to always be available. It was amazing to watch these people who I believed cared about me become so distant and uncaring, all because I was no longer serving them.

I can't stand CBT! I have had 3 rounds, low, medium and high intensity. The first was when I was around 18 I think and I don't remember anything apart from breath and write a worry diary. My second round, I was about 21 was better and I liked my T but it didn't really do anything. I didn't feel much better. My last round was high intensity whilst I was pregnant a couple of years ago. That I didn't even complete, the T said to me that there was nothing else she could provide. I had done it all and knew everything she could teach me. So much help
Last year I was put through for some more CBT and it got to the day of my appointment, I was speaking to the T and she apologised to me and said that I should have never made it that far through the process as they were not qualified to help me. It was the wrong therapy. That really messed me up as I was in a really bad way and desperately needed help.
Even the community mental health team will no longer work with me. I have a real lack of control of my emotions and quickly become overwhelmed and honestly, hysterical. I hate that word but it best describes it. I will start as extremely upset and it will always move to anger. I get loud and I lose all sense of control. I have yet to find someone (aside from my Mum) who doesn't shout back or understand (even though I have explained) that in that moment, my brain and my body are remembering something else. So yes I am a mess and having an extreme emotional reaction to something relatively small but I need help to remind me that I am safe. It may be tense but I am not in danger. Everyone just thinks I'm being nasty and shouting and hollering. I had a few moments like this with my co-ordinator, she would contact me after something bad had happened and then not fathom why I was triggered and instead of trying to help me out of it she would just patronise me and argue with me. It always ended in a full blown argument. I dreaded her calls. So even they didn't get it and it was their psychiatrist that diagnosed me as Neurodivergent with c-PTSD! On top of that I am waiting for an ASD assessment too.

I haven't read that. Thank you for the recommendation. I will definitely have a read. I am currently reading 'The Body Keeps The Score' by Bessel van der Kolk. I have found it really eye opening and am learning so much about what has actually happened to my brain because of all the trauma. It is helping me to realise, I'm not crazy, my mind and body have literally been altered due to my experiences.
I have seen a lot about the four F's whilst doing my long hours of research into this thing that plagues my life. It would be interesting to read more about that.

I get so confused by myself. I used to be very vocal and strong willed or at least appeared that way to everyone around me. It was what I wanted. If I was seen as strong and quite frankly formidable then maybe people wouldn't try and hurt me. I have said for years I have mastered the F off vibe lol.
With ex partners that have been abusive, I was always told by friends and family that I was mean to them. In public these partners were the nicest people and everybody liked them but behind closed doors it was a different story. The strong, powerful girl would disappear and the quiet submissive would take her place. I would argue with these partners but my strongest reactions to them were always in front of friends and family. I would blow up over the smallest thing. It was all those emotions flooding to the surface and I felt I was in an environment where I could let go and be safe. People were around so nothing would happen. They would always look so wounded and hurt and I would be told how horrible I could be. But no one knew that ultimately I would pay for that. I think because of how big and bulshy I have always appeared, it stuns people to know what I have suffered. I was always the person that those things wouldn't happen to, because I wouldn't let them.
I have always defended myself, verbally and with great passion but there would be so many times that I would either just disappear from my body or I would just sit and take it. Never making a sound or saying a word. Now I will go either way, I'll either be triggered to an explosion or I'll just go quite and timid like a little mouse. I'm a full on rollercoaster 

I like the Cinder-Fella, that's very good and the horse analogy is perfect. That's such a clear way of seeing it for what it is.

I still can't help but find myself thinking, 'oh it wasn't that bad. Look at all the support you have had off of your family all your life' but I need to remind myself too that I was bullied relentlessly by all of my siblings. There are still jokes and things today that I will laugh along with but secretly I feel sick. To them it was all harmless fun, to me it was daily torment I couldn't escape even at school because it just continued there from my peers. I love my family and wish them all well but I think it will be a very long time before I would even consider any true contact with them.

My priority for the first time in my life has to be me. I'm still learning how to do that but it needs to be done, my child needs a healthy Mum and I can't be that if I'm surrounded by people that have caused so much pain. Even if unintentionally.

[Master of my sea]

Today has been a really hard day. I became acutely aware today of just how isolated I am.
If it wasn't for my child, I would have no one who checks in with me. I spoke to my Mum for the first time in days today and broke down.
It sounds really trivial but it's been almost 2 weeks since I have had anyone ask how I am. If I'm ok, just anything.

I've been almost numb for a few days, just unable to really feel anything. My sleep has been so broken and the nightmares have been relentless. It's like I've had a few days break from the emotional rollercoaster I have been on and then today...BOOM! I feel like I have been hit by a ton of bricks. I have barely been able to concentrate on anything, I've been like a zombie that occasionally bursts into tears.

And today would be the day that my child wakes up in just one of those moods. It's been real hard work trying to be Mum today. It always makes me feel so guilty when I know my patience is short and frayed and I'm not as engaged as I would normally be. All of this has just shown me how alone I really am right now. After I spoke to my Mum, that was it. All of my support had been tapped. I literally have no one else.

I feel like teenage me today. Just knowing that there isn't anyone to call on. Just having to deal with everything alone. Always seems to be the way. It sucks

[Armee]

It's so lonely to not have anyone to trust or let in.

I'm glad you are here and can get some support from us too.

I also have to put the mum hat on and accept that I am less present than I'd like to be much of the time. I think my kids know it isn't because I don't care. They just know I'm very spacey and forgetful. I think they know I love them and care about them and their world. I bet your kids know that too.

[Master of my sea]

Thank you Armee.

I hope my little one knows that. Being a Mum is my only purpose it feels right now and I'm terrified of messing it up. My little one is my whole world.
My patience is frayed so easily at the moment and I really struggle with sensory overload, so having a toddler running around and being the noisiest person on the planet  can really tip that into overdrive. Which obviously doesn't help. It's a physical pain at times when there is too much going on.
I try to take myself away for a few minutes but I have realised that there is nowhere in my home that makes me feel relaxed. So I think today I am going to try and create a space that I can go to when I need those moments to come back to ground.
I used to have a grounding box as well so I think I'm going to remake that too.
I feel like I'm clutching at straws, trying to find a balance when everything is off kilter.

I guess it's baby steps all the way. I'm just struggling to be particularly positive at the moment.

[CactusFlower]

Gentle hugs if you want them, sea. It absolutely is about baby steps. Small and consistent makes things last. I think the idea of creating a grounding box and/or a space just for you would be very helpful. Maybe while the kiddo naps, if they do? We're here to listen.

[Master of my sea]

Thank you CactusFlower.

It just feels never ending.
I didn't end up creating a space but I did end up drawing which has helped me feel a bit calmer. I'm just glad I found something that chilled me out. FB's have been bad today. I feel like a walking disaster area. Hoping tomorrow is a better day

[Armee]

I relate to how hard it is to have a noisy toddler crawling on you through this mess of cptsd. I especially struggled with the noise and the physical touch when mine were younger. And like you being a good mom was and is all that matters to me.

[Master of my sea]

I feel awful when I struggle to give hugs and sit and snuggle. But sometimes I just can't have anyone touching me. I'll even change my clothes throughout the day because I can't stand the feel of what I'm wearing. I try and explain that I just need a few minutes and I'll be there. That normally works but not always.
I will explain things as best I can as my little one gets bigger but at the moment that's pretty tricky. I do my best to not let it get in the way but sometimes it beats me.
I just do my best to make up for it when I'm in a better space.

[Hope67]

Hi Master of My Sea,
Feeling comfortable in your space, and wearing clothes that you feel comfortable in - that's important. 

It's great that you found some comfort in drawing. 

Hope 

[Armee]

I know, Master of my Sea. I would do the same. Change clothes, shower. Try to be right there but sometimes get stuck in the bathroom instead. It gets a little better though...the touching and personal space. I did have to teach my daughter to not touch me suddenly and quickly. To move slowly. She was older though like 8 or something. That helped.

[Master of my sea]

Hi Hope,

I have to remind myself all the time that it's ok to do what I need to do in order to feel even a little bit better.
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So I think I had a little epiphany last night!

I was reading through some of the resources on here and came across the Beauty after Bruises article, Nightime 101: Sleep, Nightmares, Insomnia and More.
There was a bit that lit up a lightbulb in my brain. Here is the excerpt that lit up my brain:

When there are sooo many things that can keep a person from sleeping, it never hurts to be reminded to stop and consider...hm, maybe someone inside is keeping me up.  While individual alters may be physically responsible for keeping you awake, for trauma survivors without DID, the younger aspects of yourself and traumatized parts of your mind may still need just as much attention and care.  They could very much be the source of your restlessness, too.

This really got me thinking...could my inner child be trying to tell me something?

My sleep issues really kicked into high gear when I was around 11 years old, I am now 28 and it is extremely rare for me to sleep through the night. I have to be unwell or absolutely exhausted. Now a lot of happened to me starting around this age but the only thing that stood out, in regards to disturbed sleep, was my brother.
He is a couple of years older than me and suffers from epilepsy. It started when he was 11 but he wasn't diagnosed until I was 11 and he was 14. He had grand mal seizures and they were horrific to say the least. I remember them vividly. He had them all the time. I think the most he had in one day was 13, whilst he was in hospital. The seizures were bad but we all learned how to help and take care of him properly during and after them. There were many times that I ran the length of our school because someone had come and found me to tell me he was having a seizure. Unfortunately it was something we all ultimately had to get used to. Now, what I could never get used to were his night time seizures, these were the worst. He would start seizing in his sleep and wake up either during or just after and he wouldn't be able to see and would be scared and disorientated. He couldn't walk on his own or talk, nothing. But when he would wake up during/after these seizures, he would scream.
To this day I have never heard anything like it. Probably the most terrifying sound I have ever heard. These screams would jolt us all awake and we would all converge on his room to help him. Now I used to bolt up out of bed as soon as I heard that sound. It got to the point that I was so in tune to him that I would get to him before my Mum on many occasions. Sometimes I would even wake before he screamed because I could hear him seizing even in my sleep.
So now thinking about the sorts of times during the night when these would usually happen, it seems to match up with the times I regularly wake up at night.

The other thing that stands out, is also my brother but for a very different reason. My brother ended up being a very angry and aggressive person. To Mum and us girls at least. Now I won't go off on that tangent for now, I'll keep it to sleep. But as we got older it became a common occurrence, especially once I was about 15/16, that my brother would pick fights with my Mum either late at night or in the small hours of the morning. Many a night I have been woken up to my brother arguing with my Mum, and I would lay there and listen to see if I needed to intervene. Unfortunately more often than not I had to. It generally only took a few seconds to make that decision as the situation would become clear rapidly. So I would jump out of bed and run to the top of the house (my room was ground floor and my Mums room was on the third). So many times I placed myself between them and took the brunt of his aggression. I would always prefer me hurt than my Mum, she felt differently but I was quick. There were also plenty of times that I was able to diffuse the situation but every word had to be carefully thought out. Tone of voice had to be a certain way, it was like performing an operation. Very much a case of fragile, handle with care sort of situation.

I spent my teenage years constantly on alert, waiting for the next fight, thinking about every word I said to my brother. Trying so hard not to set him off. It was crap. To be walking on eggshells permanently. So settling down and relaxing to go to sleep became a challenge.

I'm wondering if my inability to sleep through the night and waking up at specific times, is that little girl still feeling afraid to go to sleep. All because she doesn't know if anything is going to happen that night?
I have never considered this before. Just hadn't entered my head at all.

So I'm thinking that what I need to do now is try and find a way to settle little me at night. Let her know that we are safe, that we are not there anymore and it is safe to go to sleep and nothing can harm her.
I could be barking up the wrong tree completely but I think it's at least worth exploring

[Master of my sea]

I know, Master of my Sea. I would do the same. Change clothes, shower. Try to be right there but sometimes get stuck in the bathroom instead. It gets a little better though...the touching and personal space. I did have to teach my daughter to not touch me suddenly and quickly. To move slowly. She was older though like 8 or something. That helped.

I have to admit it's really nice to know that it isn't just me.

That's one thing little man doesn't get at all. He has permanent zoomies and has zero concept of personal space. He moves so quickly and I'm so jumpy. I've made him jump more than once when he has charged at me out the blue, I leap out my skin. Makes me feel so bad so I try and laugh it off with him but I'm a quivering wreck. He's so little so he has no idea bless him. I plan on being as open as I can with him about these sorts of things as he gets older but it can be pretty tricky to navigate at the moment. Especially as I'm still trying to figure out what actually triggers me and what I can and can't tolerate. I'm waiting on an ASD referral as well so there could be stuff there playing a part too.
We are learning together bless us.

[Papa Coco]

Master of my Sea,

Wow. that was a strong epiphany. It stands to reason, for me, that your memories of the repeated traumas of listening for your brother's blood-curdling screams would linger as a current day sleep disorder.

I find that the hardest night of the week for me to sleep is Sunday. I've always assumed it was because all those years ago, I was so unhappy and unsafe at grade school, and Sunday night meant the weekend was over and I had to go back to that nightmare place every Monday. To this day, 50 years later, I still can't sleep on Sundays. Childhood training, (traumas, abuse, difficulties), stays with us, especially in our sleep.

You were an amazing little sister to be so helpful with him when he was younger, and to be so concerned about your mom after he became such an angry man. Lots of kids would just let the parents deal with all that. You are an especially kind and caring person. I know it's a struggle to have to deal with other people's issues when you have issues of your own, but it's also something to be proud of that you were so much help to your mom all those years.

Your little man sounds like a cute kid. I hope you're able to keep sane until he learns about personal boundaries.