I've wanted to start a recovery journal for some time now, but can't decide on the format yet.
I feel I should also write some more "letters of recovery" in that section of the board, and this is not the place it was intended to that kind of stuff. But I might, for fear of flooding that section of the board.
But as a kickoff for this section, I've decided to first start with making a list of all the recovery I've already done in my life.
From some I have relapsed since, picked myself up again sometimes as well.
Edited to add: As I'll continue to add to this journal, both of stories past and present, I will insert events chronologically. In order not to mess up my original first post to much, I'll resort to my old computer-programming skills in BASIC. (Yes, I'm that old)
I've learned then to write every line in code (which had to be numbered) with a prefix in increments of 10, so if one would find out a line needed to be inserted for the program to work, one would have 9 opportunities to do so. So it's not going to 'neatly' ordered as far as the increments are concerned. But it will be chronological, as to the best of my ability I can remember. (I don't know why I even bother to explain this, it must be because I have a mild form of OCD 
)
So what am I recovering from?From being raised in,
and still enmeshed with, a family with "cluster B"-PD-mom and an Aspergers-dad. I'm now, after a long and torturous journey, convinced this is so. I'm as sure as one can be without a formal diagnosis of
them by a psych-evaluation team. This is why I will keep speaking of them as uHPD and uAspergers. But
I am a 100% sure, as sure as an 'outsider'
can be. In addition I have (had? I'm NC now) a sister who I now deem to be HPD as well (she's worse than my mom, if that's even possible) and a brother who tortured me physically as a child. A very normal family. Or so I thought.
03) A very early childhood memory. Probably the first time I spoke out (timidly) about how dysfunctional my FOO was.
I'm ten or so. Definitely primary school, so I can't have been older then twelve. But I think it was well before my last year there.
I'm sitting on the floor, upstairs, mom being in the bathroom putting on make-up and I'm saying, quietly while playing with my toys: "you and dad are going to divorce, aren't you." My mom did console me that this was not the case. I do remember her worried look on her face though.
In hindsight (very long hindsight

) she gaslighted me. I'd now say. They did divorce, 25 years later, 15 years ago. I think my parents started marriage counseling around that time. Possibly they were already in it.
05) As a kid I was taken to hospital with acute appendicitis. 'Mom' brought me, ran of to do some errant and I only saw my parents again in the recovery-room, post-op.
Re: Signs we missed that they don't care about us. Only now I am in the process of writing today
A Special Mothers Day Message I remember that during my full week stay in the hospital I got a visit by a neighboring mother (of a friend of mine) and I felt so much more cared for by her than my own mom. Also I was delighted by the nurses who actually asked me what I would like to have for breakfast, lunch and diner, and my requests would actually be fulfilled. Hospital was actually quite a present place to stay.

07) a puber's defiance:
http://outofthefog.net/C-PTSD/forum/index.php?topic=2170.msg13608#msg1360808) Wow. Noises that trigger/bother me. That immediately brought back memories to "fleeing to the toilet", just like my dad did. (was he triggered due to his uAspergers?), and it reminded me how often doors were being slammed shut. Oh dear, how deeply buried some of this memories are.
http://outofthefog.net/C-PTSD/forum/index.php?topic=3986.msg23224#msg23224 10) My first step in my recovery was leaving the parental home at the age of 20. One of the prime reasons to make sure I did well in secondary school was the promise of then being able to study 'in the big city'. That was a sure ticket out of the small town/suburb I grew up in that was boring as *. Well, as heaven probably, as it was dominated by very strict Calvinist religious politics. I was raised in the national 'Bible Belt'. Pinball machines were banned, just to give you an idea of how bad it was.
20) My second step was to move to a squat despite the fact that my dad threatened to cut my allowance. I had 'saved for' that in a way, as all my friends during secondary school got a lot more 'pocket money', gifts, mopeds (which would be the equivalent of a car in the US I guess (culturally speaking)) and such. "You'll get a study allowance later, Dutch Boy, so quit whining", my parents had always said. Well, that turned out as a way of extended control, I see now. The squat was to be renovated by us Engineering students though, so this was a poke at my future profession as well.
30) My third step was to break up with a girl who used dope and at some point in our relationship decided she was going to whore herself out to pay for her all-weekend drugged fueled parties. I hardy ever joined her, and I didn't enjoy those 'all-nighters. Did do the dope on those few accessions though. I had to stay awake! (read: be 'worked up'). I thought: "Well after a few months or so she must get disgusted/bored selling her body", so I hang around. She did get bored, but I guess the dope compensated for any misgivings she had about her 'job'.
I left. Heartbroken, but still, I did it. Dropped out of University for the following year. Started again the year after. Stupid. Engineering wasn't my ballgame, but I had blamed it on
my relationship troubles (not blaming the girlfriend: that was a smart move/realization, I still tell myself).
40) My fourth step was to quit some vague therapy my mother had 'forced' on me during that 'sabbatical'. Some new-age* babble with a guy who had just started his practice. I only ended up there because my mom's 'Guru' didn't want to take me (I don't know why, and I never cared). In the third meeting we overstepped the allotted time by half an hour or so, and he blamed that on me!
I should have watched the time! Dufus. I had noticed, but thought: "He's in charge, probably we are doing very well, for him to keep on babbling/asking me stuff." I never returned. "I'm more 'aware' then you are", I thought. And rightfully so.
*) disclaimer:
"New age" is a bit of a catch-all generalization. While "new age" certainly has opened new vistas on plenty of fields of inquiry, many new age cults have emerged, and plenty of harm has been done as well, and continues to do so, IMHO. So whenever I refer to "new-age", I refer to dogmatic, close-minded cultism. As my mom practices it. It's a means of distancing myself from 'it'. I don't want to demean anyone. So no offense to anyone or anything is meant.50) My fifth step was to quit my (renewed) studies in the last year of graduating. I didn't see myself sitting/working at an office drawing engineering-plans all day. Never got much appreciation from my parents anyway, mom actively sabotaged my 'dreams'. HPD… Drama wanted. (My brother who did graduate never saw his mom at the ceremony. Mom had a girls-together-only weekend with friends. Go figure. But I digress.) I was in my late 20's by then.
60) My sixth step was to go and work abroad in a field where my engineering skills were wanted, but in a profession that had little to do with engineering. Suddenly I was a 'specialist'! Ha! I had ended up there through a stroke of luck and perseverance.
(
I did well, was easily accepted by 'the profession'. I had stumbled on a great 'niche market', and over the course of the next 15 years was able to build up a respected position as free-lance-specialist in many projects. To such an extent I became part of 'the profession". This ended about five years ago. But before I'll reach that point here in this timeline, I had some more recovery steps)
65) My mother gets a life threatening illness.
http://outofthefog.net/C-PTSD/forum/index.php?topic=2170.msg13710#msg1371070) During those 15 years I took taken a seventh step. Again a break-up with a woman I could not possibly spend the rest of my life with. I've talked about that in the music thread, here (very long):
http://outofthefog.net/C-PTSD/forum/index.php?topic=2089.msg13254#msg1325480) The eight step was a break down because I was fired (through no fault of my own: there simply was a budget cut) and I got depressed/sick and went to see first a psychologist and then a psycho-therapist. I got back on my feet again and continued
happily ever after(slight hint of sarcasm there). I probably will elaborate on this at some point. That was a tough period that lasted about a year and a half.
External factor: My parents' divorce. At last. The whole process will take two-and-a-half year. Awful. Lots of unresolved stuff there. 81) also 505) october 2015 Working through my parents' divorce.
http://outofthefog.net/C-PTSD/forum/index.php?topic=2223.msg16803#msg16803 and 531)
I think I still need to mourn the divorce of my parents.85) Sending an unopened letter from uHPDmom "return to sender"
http://outofthefog.net/C-PTSD/forum/index.php?topic=2170.msg14433#new90) The ninth step was to attend a post-doctorate (post-graduate in the US?) program on Project Management, tailored to my new profession. I didn't have a doctorate (!) but the board let me in on basis of my motivation and field-experience. And probably also since I had a sort-of Bachelor equivalent in engineering. Not quite a doctorate (=Master) though. I remember that at the first 'class' a previous colleague of mine blurted out in my face: "I thought this was only for highly educated people!" to which I calmly and genuinely happily responded, smiling: "Yep!".
My parents' divorce becomes final. Well, insofar anything is ever final with them. "Over and done with" is not really in their vocabulary. Neither is: "Let's move on."100) The tenth step was to actually go fully self-employed in this profession, with the now additional skills in (and certified!) Project Management. I started a business of one. A bit of a gamble. It worked out well. (Free lance doesn't exist where I live (at least that's what the IRS says here

. You are self-employed. You either have a business, or you have a job/position. There's nothing in between.)
Fallen in the pit, yet againAbout five years ago came the downfall that essentially has brought me were I am today.
New regulations demanded I had to have a Masters degree in my profession. Quite a row broke out among the rank and file, as there were plenty of other people who stood to loose their jobs, and many companies now struggled to meet the new quality standards. A court-case ruled some program had to be set-up to make it easier for people like me to get a degree or certificate. I was not going to take a step down and decided to go for the Masters degree. I knew I had the intellect for it, so I decided to do this difficult thing. And expensive thing. And I would need to cut back on my working hours, so would loose income to boot.
I decided to study in the same city my sister was living in, a multiple hour drive from where I live. It was the best University suited for what I needed, and with Sis living there I thought: "Well, that could offset the traveling at times." Previously she had made it clear to me I was always welcome to stay over, when she had moved into a new house where I had spend days fixing, painting and cleaning (this was shortly before I even knew I could choose this University). I had never had a great relationship with her, but I considered it good enough, OK. (I still have to get used to that concept: good enough. It still feels for me as the equivalent of "indifferent", or a sleigh way of saying: it sucked.) She regularly whined, yeah, about mom, dad and certainly also about me, but this was 'normal', and we had always remained civil after such 'events'. In fact I thought this whole 'fresh up course' was a great opportunity to get a bit more 'together'.
WRONG.
The day I visited her to talk about my program at University and how possible sleepovers would fit her, she had one of her outbursts again, and
everything I had
ever done was horribly wrong. How I had
always wronged her kids and partner, yada, yada, yada, and of course most of all that I was always doing her wrong. The same wrong, over and over again.
Baffled I left an hour early. My head spinned on the way back home. I had almost literally lost my ground. What the @#%&! was wrong here? She had told me stuff like this before, but never so ferocious. Or perhaps this was just the first time I really saw how ferocious her attacks were.
The date was 14 september 2011. About 9 PM. I've now made that my (re)birth date on this site. The day I consciously decided to step out 'what was', and to step into 'whatever may be'.A few weeks later she contacted me, with what I now know to be a Hoover. She wanted to "talk it over". (That's a good one, I've learned by now: "to talk it over". Right! That's EXACTLY what it is supposed to be: not a conversation, not even a discussion or a debate… No, lets talk OVER it. Like a skipping stone over water. Boy, the power of language!) She sounded 'remorseful' enough, appeared to want to 'resolve' the matter, so I agreed to meet her, at her city.
WRONG. First meeting (6 october) she postponed, but I was so hooked and we set up another one. There I simply got the whole sermon AGAIN! Like I hadn't heard it before! (and before and before etc.) She had actually said so the previous time which had made me think: "Hmmm. yeah that's true. This is not the first time you've told me, I already hear this for decades. What the * am I even doing here?"
110) (this is actually recovery step eleven I realized during my last editorial check [of my first post])
I had (obviously) prepared for this "talk it over" (well, I had prepared for a conversation), and one of the things I wanted to know was if we were actually talking about the same thing, the same 'events' that had played out over and over again. So I had started to recollect these events in my mind, easily found six instances over the past 15 years or so where I had done this 'wrong' and settled for those: no point in dredging up more, I had six 'checks and balances'.
In a fit of FOGlessness, I realized that I should not ask her: "were these all instances of the time you told me I was doing you wrong?", for fear of her then denying those and finding something else to blame on me (I hadn't heard of "Plausible deniability" then. But I still 'knew' the concept apparently), but to make it an Open Question: "Can you tell where and when you said this to me before, sis?" An avalanche of examples flooded me. Of course there were 'the Six', six more where I immediately thought: "Good grief, yes. There's another one!" and about six that I was oblivious to (probably had repressed those) but which sounded very plausible.
She made some 'fauxpologies', but I didn't fell for those. (Like: "I shouldn't have mentioned the kids". "Right! Not only should you not have mentioned them, but you should apologize for 'bringing up the baby", I thought, but wisely(?) kept my mouth shut. No admission it was 1) a wrongful accusation and 2) it was wrong to use 'them' as a tool, a crowbar to make me feel bad about myself. )
So after a loooong "Talk" (no listening on her part, as far as I was aware) I found myself AGAIN going back home with my head spinning. "How can this be?", I kept thinking. "What is wrong with
me?"
"I must be an Aspergers", I thought. "It's the only thing that makes sense. There's only one way I can 'read' my sister's emotional needs so badly and be so oblivious to it, and that's when I'm Aspergers." This was the 13 october.
The 22nd she mailed me in a nothing-has-happened manner. Pretended we could meet and spend time together, happily. I told her I already had made arrangements to stay at B&B's for the remainder of the year. That I wouldn't stay over at her place, that I didn't feel comfortable with it.
And then I started to slowly spiral down in the cesspool of my Dysfunctional FOO, of which I am still very much an enmeshed part. Though the FOG has started lifting ever since.
That's quite enough for today, I'd say.
I'll be back!
It's not going to stop at step twelve either I'm afraid

.
Thanks for listening.
----------
400) Telling my mom to leave my house.
http://outofthefog.net/C-PTSD/forum/index.php?topic=2170.msg14011#newPresent day recovery stories500) august 2015: Me and my dad on a boat-trip
http://outofthefog.net/C-PTSD/forum/index.php?topic=2170.msg13609#new501) august 2015: I'll bet a dear thing this realization has been a step to recovery
http://outofthefog.net/C-PTSD/forum/index.php?topic=2246.msg14006#msg14006 . #400 is a prime example of how I became allergic to questions like "are you feeling OK?"
502) september 2015: Sticking to my NC with uHPD/uBPD/"cluster B"-sis.
http://outofthefog.net/C-PTSD/forum/index.php?topic=2170.msg14838#new503) september 2015: On my way to shedding a Dependent trait:
http://outofthefog.net/C-PTSD/forum/index.php?topic=2363.msg15713#msg15713504) september 2015:
Intentions for Recovery http://outofthefog.net/C-PTSD/forum/index.php?topic=2170.msg16551#msg16551505) october 2015 Working through my parents' divorce.
http://outofthefog.net/C-PTSD/forum/index.php?topic=2223.msg16803#msg16803506) october 2015: Progress? I guess so. I vented my anger.
http://outofthefog.net/C-PTSD/forum/index.php?topic=2736.0507) october 2015: Setback? The horrors of an EF. Progress as well? First time I recognized an EF for what it was
at the very moment http://outofthefog.net/C-PTSD/forum/index.php?topic=2897.msg17431#new508) october 2015: Allowing self-forgiveness.
http://outofthefog.net/C-PTSD/forum/index.php?topic=2170.msg17515#new509) october 2015: Changed my personal text (under my Avatar) from "Survivor. Spilling the beans" to "Survivor. Shifting the burden". Plenty of beans have now been spilled (more to come, for sure), and it's time to rearrange the burden on whom/what they weigh. Now looking for a new balance in/of things.
510) november 2015: TherapistMom, YOU'RE FIRED!
http://outofthefog.net/C-PTSD/forum/index.php?topic=3041.0511) november 2015:
512) and lo and behold a few hours later: I've planted a new tree: no more X-mas with the Dysfunctional FOO.
http://outofthefog.net/C-PTSD/forum/index.php?topic=3052.msg18205#new513) november 2015: I have sacked my TherapistMom, and will be processing the paperwork and other administrative 'duties' for a while longer. She'll fight her sacking no doubt (in my own bloody head
!!!, good grief

) But she's off the job as of today. No matter how many tantrums she'll pull.
http://outofthefog.net/C-PTSD/forum/index.php?topic=2170.msg18546#msg18546 (LOL, I now see I already sacked her earlier this month! (510). Oh well, this just shows how hard it is to sack her.)

Diligence, Dutch, diligence. You're doing awesome

514) Told my brother off as a Flying Monkey:
http://outofthefog.net/C-PTSD/forum/index.php?topic=2310.msg19507#msg19507515) Mom's

hoover averted.
http://outofthefog.net/C-PTSD/forum/index.php?topic=2310.msg19508#msg19508516) Punched through the FOG of Chaos Manufacture. Related to 502) (among others)
http://outofthefog.net/C-PTSD/forum/index.php?topic=2310.msg19509#msg19509517) I will not have a purportful 2016. A happy 2016 will do just fine.
http://outofthefog.net/C-PTSD/forum/index.php?topic=2170.msg19748#msg19748518) Wrote a "letter of recovery to my Sister in Law", effectively stating why I
am No Contact with her. Another codependent relationship ended.
http://outofthefog.net/C-PTSD/forum/index.php?topic=3363.msg198762016519) I woke myself up from an unpleasant dream. Now that is a good tool to have for countering EF's, dissociation etc.
http://outofthefog.net/C-PTSD/forum/index.php?topic=3373.new#new520) Discovered that I actually handled the ending of my FOO-codependent relationships quite well. That gives hope and confidence.
http://outofthefog.net/C-PTSD/forum/index.php?topic=2170.msg20070#msg20070521) Stepping further away from my codependent relationship with my brother and his FOC:
http://outofthefog.net/C-PTSD/forum/index.php?topic=3451.msg20347#msg20347522) I promised myself to work on my "Fight" response, and bang! I've done it.
http://outofthefog.net/C-PTSD/forum/index.php?topic=3543.msg20910#msg20910 A
good fight response IMHO. Clear. Boundary setting and defending. Not offensive. Holding my ground. Respectful to my opponent even, I feel. I am not going to be 'pressed into service', and I press back just hard enough to stay were I am and want to be. I do not press back so hard that I have to take a step 'forward'. Then I would not be at the place I am and want to be either.

Good practice round. Balanced.
NB: this exchange reminded me of this audio-clip ***trigger warning: it's a rant on a variety of subjects that people may find rude for a variety of reasons***
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JcvWzyvn4MI of Douglas Murray and my hero Sam Harris, where Douglas Murray slips into a rant against the 'liberal left', on and on (and makes a couple of excellent points) which at the very end of the clip makes Sam Harris chuckle, chuckle harder and then finds the rant outright hilarious. "I miss this capacity, perhaps I meditated too much and it has damaged my brain."

"Keep this capacity well oiled, Douglas." are the final words of Sam.
edited to add a month later: well, that did cause a stir. I'm sorry about that. But today I want to add another worthwhile article:
http://mindfulconstruct.com/2010/01/15/the-dark-side-of-mindfulness/ . I post this as today I have become more aware of my TherapistMom's New-Ageism. I posted some of this in the "Religious Abuse" board. But it is becoming increasingly clear to me that her particular brand of Hindu based "therapy" stems from the same religion that still allows today for castes as the "Untouchables". And her treatment of me reflects this.
530) I'm mourning. Not in a depression. That's a relief.
http://outofthefog.net/C-PTSD/forum/index.php?topic=4018.msg23477#new531) May: I think I still need to mourn the divorce of my parents. Most of the grief I feel there is the fact that it's a completely buried subject. Since both my parents have kept silent and/or very vague on their divorce, I really could not speak with anybody about it, and so I could never have any validation for my feelings/experiences with both the divorce, the divorce process and the horrible marriage it was itself. In a way my NC with 'mom' and 'sis', effectively disbanding the FOO as a unit/community I am finally grieving the divorce. I have hung a not on the wall in my bedroom saying: "If my parents don't dissolve their dysfunctional relationship (since they
still continue, despite their 'divorce'), than I will divorce myself from
their toxic dysfunctional relationship.
A joke about myself: or
"I suffer from an inverse Oedipus-complex, as even after my mother made herself available to me by divorcing her husband, I'm still not want to marry her."