I need to get my story out there (Trigger warnings, maybe?)

[Stout_and_Vigil]

EDIT: So maybe I should have read the guidelines more closely. This might be breaking them? I'm sorry if it is. Please let me know.

So first of all, I suppose this will be one * of a first post. But I'm also guessing quite a few are, so here it goes. Honestly, this may be more of a stream of consciousness but I only just found the board - which is awesome - but there are so many sections I wasn't at all sure where to put this, but I am definitely frustrated and sure do feel set back. But I really just need to... get this out there, and hopefully a mod will move it to a more appropriate forum.

But after a lot of thought, I've decided to skip the trauma part and move straight into how it continues to affect my life.

My C-PTSD is one that took a very long time to diagnosis, because the abuse happened when I was so young, and it wasn't just the one abuser. It started in middle school and lasted... well it lasted long enough. When I was in middle school I was tossed in special ed because I had behavioral issues and basically no one knew what to do with me. I maintain that that was one of the single worst decisions my parents could have made, because it really screwed (don't know if we can curse; I do it frequently) with my self confidence and schooling career for the rest of my days.

When the abuse started, I started not wanting to be at school either. I tried to tell people, but no one seemed to want to listen (that particular school system to this day remains useless) so I just tried to avoid the place all together. My doctor was a freaking tool who I still hate who only ever talked to my parents and not me so of course he kept getting the wrong idea. They threw me in a mental hospital for a week once because it was just something else to try. Yet another wound that wouldn't heal properly.

And then there was high school; oh, high school. That was an experience.I lost friends I'd made in middle school because this new, larger environment with triple amount of people was too much to bear. I remember one specific incident where I was walking through the halls between classes - this is a school where it was shoulder to shoulder when it was time to switch classes - and I saw a friend in the hall. She waved Hi and tried to start up a conversation. I don't know what look i gave her, but I do remember shrinking away and taking a step backwards. She must have taken a lot of offence to this because she sneered, said whatever, and moved along. I can't blame her; we were freshman. Kids, you know?

And high school was miserable. I was still in special ed, but that wasn't the main problem. The main problem was that I had no control over my own schedule: I wasn't allowed for some reason, and I never asked to be. But whoever was in charge of it never ever got it right. I was suddenly catapulted into standard classes after years of being confined from a special ed environment with the "crazy kids" into a normal functioning environment and I, from day one, cracked under the pressure.

I started skipping class (the library was a great place to escape; it was large, unpopulated, and the librarians didn't ask questions. They also always had Enya playing, bless that woman.) and making every excuse to just not go to school entirely. And it just got worse from there. It was either junior or senior year that I was filed for truancy, and to say dad was pissed was an understatement when that officer showed up on our front door one day early morning.

My parents didn't understand. No one understood.

"Why can't you go to school?"

"I don't know."

That was always my answer, and it was the truth. I had no reason I could define other than a feeling of utter dread about even thinking of the very idea of that place. I was scared.

Through all of this I was struggling to come to terms with my sexuality. I'm gay, which I've known since I was nine, and my parents kept refusing to believe. I got so many talks about how it was a sin and how I was too young to know.

But to save myself from writing a novel, let me jump ahead to actually finish high school - at the mercy of the school board, I suspect just to get rid of me.

Four years. For four years I did nothing. From the ages of 18 to 22 I was stagnate, unknowingly shutting down, repressing, and forgetting. I didn't have a job, I didn't go out to see people. How my parents just didn't kick out of the house is a miracle (my relationship with them remains a tricky thing for me).

One day I saw my friends just becoming successful, going on with their lives, and on a whim I applied to a junior college and got accepted. I don't even know where to get started with how college other than it was just about as much a cluster f*** as all the rest of school was. I was doing it more out of obligation of to just be doing something than just sit at home.

Don't get me wrong, it was a good way to get out and expand to have an actual social circle.

But it's also where the foundations began to crack, and the dam broke open when my first love (tragically cliche) didn't love me back. The world ended that day, it felt like, and I was out seeking a therapist the very next day. I realized immediately this was not anything I could handle on my own.

Fast forward another four years and here we are. I graduated last year with a two year general studies degree that took me four years (people keep saying I should feel proud of myself, but I don't.)

Every relationship I try to pursue crashes and burns and leaves me a mess. I get attached to people way too quickly and "fall" very hard in "love" very quickly. So I've been trying to abstain from dating, but it's harder than it sounds for someone who craves it so desperately.

I despise myself. I hate everything, even though intellectually I know I'm a pretty cool guy. But emotionally? Eff that. I struggle to look in the mirror.

My anxiety has been at an all time high, to the point where I can't hold down a job and struggle to be in crowds, even when I'm with a group of people I know. Loud, busy places is to be one of my triggers, I've realized recently.

I'm just so freaking angry all the time, and it's gotten to the point where my therapist has suggested I try and file for disability (which I did, still waiting to hear back), and I just don't know what to do.

I'm not alone, but I feel it. One single word, a single negative feeling, and my entire day is ruined. I hardly sleep and I have to set alarms to remind myself to eat because I often forget otherwise. I try to stay busy and get out of the house, but with being unemployed my choice of entertainment are pretty limited and it's been so blistering hot than I can't stand to be outside for long (I long for winter to arrive. I can spend all day out in the cold).

To say I'm frustrated is an understatement. I'm desperate for some relief and I just feel so trapped with nowhere to go. Panic attacks are frequent, and I have a medication I can take during way, but when I take it I feel like such a weak pathetic piece of... you know. I've been crying a lot.

And I guess I'm just typing all this up because it needs to be out in the air, need someone to see at least the tiniest bit of the story that is my life.

Also, hi; I'm DJ, and this is quite the wall of text, isn't it?

[Three Roses]

Hello and welcome, Stout&Vigil! We're glad you've found your way here. 

There is a Guidelines section (http://outofthefog.net/C-PTSD/forum/index.php?topic=1616.msg10035#msg10035); we don't swear bcuz some find it too triggery. I swear like a sailor irl tho

And don't worry about the length! Some of us have to get it all out, somehow, and this is a great spot to do it!

The reason "I don't know" is such a common answer for all of us is that trauma changes the way the brain (not just the mind) works. Brain scans of people in the midst of being "triggered" show some speech centers actually offline, while the areas that make us re-live the events in lurid, visceral detail light up like Las Vegas, yay.

There's a great book called The Body Keeps The Score, and it's in audio version on YouTube. For free. I found such validation, hope and comfort in it that I bought a hard copy to refer to.

I've probably missed something important as I'm fighting a massive headache, but I hope you feel welcome and comfortable here. You've found your people.

[Wife#2]

Stout & Vigil - I first want to give you a big HUG!!!! Honestly, it took serious guts to post your 'wall-of-text'. Your story is heart-breaking and familiar.

My brother, who also probably had c-PTSD growing up, could have written your story, large chunks of it anyway. Certainly about the hating/dreading/dropping out of school, with no real way to voice the reason to parents who wouldn't hear anyway. He simply failed to attend 9th grade. He was, I think, glad when being put back a year made him closer to our sister. She skipped the same year he flunked and they ended up only 1 year apart instead of 3.

I hear your pain so clearly! I was very close to my brother up until he died. He, like you, was a terrific guy who loved too deeply and too quickly. He finally teased himself saying that he was in love with falling in love, but had no idea how to keep the relationship going once the 'honeymoon' ended.

He did get a four-year education, but, like you, it took about double the standard time. He did work, got some pretty interesting and amazing jobs over his years. Eventually, working became too much, his illness became too powerful and disability was the only path.

Getting on disability was one of the best things that ever happened to him. He didn't have a lot of friends, but the friends he had were the best kind ever. They would challenge him to grow (one was a nurse and not the gentlest sort - no patience for stupid people). They would comfort him when a relationship fizzled out and he was hurt again.

Anyway, my point is that I may not have been in your shoes, but those shoes were in my house growing up - and I loved the man who wore them. We spent some years as close friends. I saw his suffering as I see yours. He's gone now, but you are here - you still have a chance to get it right this side of the dirt! 'IT' being what YOU want to make of your life. As long as you choose to breathe, there is hope. Healing is possible.

Please feel welcome to post a single word or a max-out novella - whatever works for you while you are here. We may not be therapists and may have no ability to fix or help you fix a darn thing, but we'll listen. We'll nod our heads when we understand. We'll keep our fingers off our keyboards if we can't be helpful. But, we will be here and we do care what you have to say. Welcome!