My long story -Trigger Warning-

[blackaltis07]

After all these years and now finally receiving my diagnosis, it's all starting to make perfect sense. I apologize for the long post, and for any triggers within. This is my story.

My earliest memories, literally my earliest memories from the age of three, involve my father's abuse. I was in my grandmother's room, painting on my art easel, when somehow I felt compelled to climb under it. It collapsed on top of me, and I couldn't get the weight of it off of me. My father came running into the room to see what happened and I remember screaming, "Please don't hit me, please don't hit me!"

Now he never actually hit me, but he threatened it quite a bit and threatened to kill me just as often. He used profane words that I had never heard of when I was three or four years old but became more than familiar to me over the years.

This became commonplace...the constant screaming, cursing, name-calling, and persistent threats of violence and death over the stupidest things. Like when I was seven and he bought me bunk beds, but the first night I was too scared to sleep in the top bunk for fear of falling out...my father took this as a grievous insult and for the next week, instead of calling me by my name, called me "liar" instead ("Good morning, liar", "Hey liar, what do you want for lunch?") But especially with school. If I came home with anything less than a B, or God forbid, a C...I was thrown into in my room and locked in there for hours without food or drink, and called stupid and worthless, and told that I would never amount to anything through the door. My mother wasn't above her own brand of abuse when it came to school, either. When I was 16 and my 1320 SAT results came in (not bad, if you ask me), she threw the envelope at me and screamed, "Well I guess we can forget about Princeton now, can't we??" And then she ignored me for days. To this day I get a daily flashback at the sound of the mail truck: I instantly flash back to that scared kid, waiting for the mail so he can intercept the report card that might have a C on it.

And speaking of my mother, each of the countless times my father raised his abusive voice to me, I looked to her to come to my aid or at least calm him down. She never did. The abandonment I felt as a small child in distress being ignored by his mother haunts me still.

I developed serious trust issues. At 19, I found it in me to trust a girl I met and decided to become her boyfriend. Three months later, I found out she cheated on me and all that trust that I had built up was destroyed in an instant. I was depressed for months. I started to wonder if I had a problem and went to my parents, looking to tell them that I wanted to see somebody about my fragile mental state. They told me that I was weak, just being dramatic, and that I should get my lazy * out of bed and be a productive member of society. They told me that being diagnosed and taking medication would ruin any chance I would ever have of ever finding a job or being in a relationship.

So I never found help until I was depressed again in 2008, and checked myself into a motel with the intent of killing myself. I called a hotline at the last minute and was taken to a psychiatric hospital for a week. During the family meeting with my psychiatrist, my father's abuse continued. He screamed at me about everything that he could think of so hard that I thought they would lock him up too. And so I finally started taking medication for depression because it was obvious I needed to.

I eventually moved out and married my longtime girlfriend about four years ago, and somehow, by some miracle, I managed to forgive my father. Since my mother's death, he's been really lonely and needing companionship, and he felt the need to ask my and my brother's permission to date again. Seeing him vulnerable like that I think was a big part in it. I still don't really trust him, but on the surface, we get along.

But all the issues are there. I've had C-PTSD related issues since early childhood and they aren't going away anytime soon. I have at least three flashbacks a day. I don't feel close to hardly anyone, and I very often even have a hard time feeling close to my own wife. I'm feel like I'm perpetually in a state of extreme anxiety. I just received the diagnosis recently though I've suspected I've had this for a long time. I'm grateful that I've been diagnosed because that means that now I can finally start doing something about it. I can't live like this anymore.

To those of you who read this far, thank you for sticking with me!

[Three Roses]

You've found a group of people with the same types of background, whether we experienced it as children or adults. We've been there, are there - we understand. Keep reading, and thanks for posting!

[sanmagic7]

no need to apologize, blackaltis - we've been there.  sometimes it helps to write it out, get the poison out, so to speak.  i know it's helped me a lot, writing.

very glad you've found us, and you've found an answer that will help you move forward toward a better future.  i do believe that as you continue in recovery, you will find ways to get closer to your wife, and have a truly lovely and loving relationship.  it'll take time and effort, but i think it's worth it.

keep up the good work.  we're here to support you as you tackle this beast called c-ptsd.  sending you a hug filled with determination and strength and love.

[PeTe]

What a heart-breaking first memory! I completely understand that you got cptsd from that upbringing. Now that you know what it is, maybe it's easier to talk about and deal with? I'm sure you'll find the courage to be vulnerable and trust your wife. Have you told her your story?

[DecimalRocket]

That's tough. No one deserves that treatment . . . for their emotions to be invalidated so much. Especially someone so vulnerable to commit suicide.

I'm glad you're able to create better relationships with others and manage some recovery , . . enough to be able to ask help from people.

Take care Black. Take care.