#cptsd problems
None of your trauma is your fault. ♡
You know my mom so well.
Me to my therapist as we start trauma work:
Me: *desperatly wants a secure attachment*
A secure attachment: *starts happening*
Me:
I never had a childhood, or the chance to be innocent, that was ripped away. I never had the chance to know how it felt to be truly loved and validated, how to grow up healthy and experience the joys of it. I missed out, I was fucking robbed and I grew up a broken, empty shell that I am only now learning how to fill.
Credit to chuckdrawsthings. Just found these hilarious.
…well it does… I can’t lie and say that it doesn’t. I legitimately struggle every single day with just living with this, let alone all the complications I have had with it along the way. I’ve been in therapy now for about 3 months, and it has helped me a lot to fully understand my many traumas…which also means having to relive those things, and face them head on again. I know I have been through a lot in 23 years to say the least, I understand the amount of trauma I have been through. Yet, I still find ways to deminish things I have been through. Just this week my therapist and I went over every traumatic event in my life other than my grandfather’s attempted murder and successful suicide when I was 14. Almost every year, was plauged with at least one traumatic event. What caught me off guard, or what was a big slap in the face of reality was when my therapist said to me that no toddler deserves abuse. All I could picture was, little toddler me being abused by my mother, not understanding what what was happening and it absolutely broke my heart. I just cried. I don’t know, maybe its because I’m older now and can see things from different perspectives now. I always knew my mom abused me my whole life, living with a mentally unstable person your entire life you’re going to be abused, and I got it on every level, mental, emotional and physical. One time when I was 3 or 4 my mom had a seizer in bed, and we lived about 1 hour away from the nearest hospital with an ER in it. My dad left me, and my mom in the house for 3 days and said that he didn’t “sign up for this shit” when he got married…ya kinda did, but that’s besides the point. My grandmother found me running about the house, I knew something was wrong with my mom but I couldn’t do anything about it, but I directed my grandmother upstairs to my mother. If my grandmother hadn’t come over I’m not sure what would have happened. There’s a lot that happened when I was little, a lot. I really bothers me why no one helped me. My grandmother has even told me that I should have been pulled out of my house and placed into foster care…why didnt she ever help? My brother who is 10 years older than me(who is also a cop), he never helped either and he knew too. I used to wish and hope some how some way, someone would pluck me out of that life and situation, but it never happened. So many things could have been different. I don’t know what normal is. So many traumatic things have continued to happen to me I don’t think that I would ever know what normal could be. But then when I see the people around me who haven’t had something horrible happen to them, they have veil over their eyes. They cannot, for whatever reason see past themselves, let alone any wrong doings of the world. I would like to think that these events have built me up to see these things around me for what they truly are. Maybe its my own way of coping with things, I don’t know. What I do know is that I have triggers daily, I’m on muscle relaxers because my body is so used to being tense all the time I can’t relax and have been having a lot of tension migraines lately; and the always lovely panic attacks. This is my normal. I have somehow found strength in myself to live with these things and thrive in them the best way that I can. I don’t know what the future holds for me, but despite everything that has happened and what I live with daily, my future is brighter than ever.
*Trigger warning*
So tomorrow December 1st is the 9 year anniversary of my grandfather somehow not shooting my grandmother, mother, and myself but turning the gun on himself. Suicide is hard, dealing with the rippling effects of going through that and just how much more my dysfunctional family has changed. I honestly don’t think it could have been avoided, not with my family. Had people actually cared about his well being, or even their own he very well could have seeked psychiatric help. At least that’s what I would like to think. 9 year’s seems like a lot of time. My therapist asked me why he thinks I cannot let go of that day and what happened. I have so many other traumas but this one is kind of at the top of the shit pyramid for me. I told my therapist that people are not meant to witness that. We cannot handle it. He said that he was a first responder and he still remembers his first call and how bad it was. The level of how different those two events are, is kind of staggering. I’m not saying it wasn’t traumatic for him, but I personally think it is easier to recover or let go of trauma you weren’t involved in. He was just doing his job, he knew what all the pretains being a first responder. I was 14. I was going over my Christmas list before my grandfather walked into the kitchen and stood behind me with a gun up to his head and asked us all if he was a joke. On top of that, him being bi polar and unmedicated, and having dementia that he didn’t tell us about, he traumatized me more than just on December 1st, 2007. I try to make sense of what happened that day, and I don’t think I ever will. My family is better but also so much worse now. The dysfunction is at an all time high…but if my grandfather hadn’t done what he did my mom wouldn’t have gone and seeked help for her bi polar disorder, and other disorders. I’ve learned there is no such thing as “normal”. This year has been a very changing year for me and a year of growth and more trauma from my family. They just still treat me like shit and if I don’t so what they say or think is right they are against me. I speak up or out against racism, women’s rights, equality for the LGBT community, native American rights I am labled and torn down by my “family”. This time last year I just left my abusive husband and was living in fear. This year I’m about to graduate from cosmetology school, and I have a very successful career linned up for me when I graduate in a few months. I have been sick for a month and I have to have surgery in January to see if I have endrometriosis. My family makes up lies about me and since I left my husband they couldn’t give a damn about the accomplishments I have made this year and it hurts more than they will ever know. I was flat out ignored at thanks giving. My brother made sure his kid hugged and kissed everyone goodbye except for me. I can’t change who I am, and what they have all done over there years has shapped me for who I am today. I’m proud of myself and of how far I have come. I’m glad I grew up realizing my family wasn’t “normal” and I didn’t want to be like them. I can’t change the past and I certainly cannot change the trauma, but I still have control over my life whether they like it or not.
The deprivation float tank was pretty awesome! I really enjoyed it and was happy I chose to do 90mins because I felt like that gave me enough time to relax fully and just float. The time honestly went by really quickly. At first a was a tad nervous about closing the lid once I got in, but when I closed it I was fine. I felt really safe, like I was in my bed in a big warm blanket haha. The water was maybe 3-4 inches deep but with the 900lbs of salt in the water it makes you naturally buoyant. They give you a “neck noodle” to help hold your head and neck. I used it. But then decided to take it off, I found it more relaxing when I took it off. I literally let my head go and it was fine, stayed perfectly afloat. I definitely want to keep trying this. It made my anxieties go away, I felt so relaxed and it made my back and joints feel better. I would recommend it to anyone really, its cool and has so many health benefits.
Post link
*trigger warning!* *gun violence* *suicide**dysfunctional family*
We are fastly approaching the holiday season. For a lot of people this year is a time of joy, happiness. A time to remember the past, enjoy the time with your loved ones. For me, the happiness of this season died for me 9 years ago. 9 years is a long time. It’s a long time to think, to reflect, and to grow as a person. I can openly talk about Dec 1,2007 today, but it still feels like it happened yesterday. The only thing that has changed is my emptiness I feel. Granted I have been through a lot of traumas since then too, but that doesn’t make this time of year any better. I would rather burry my head, hide until January… Anything. This is the first year I am flat out not going to Christmas. Every year we have Christmas at my grandmas house, where my grandfather shot himself. I think it’s disgusting to say the least. My mom tells me that my grandma has to live in there so I can basically get over it. My mom chose to clean up grandpas blood, and brain matter…when her uncle offered to pay to have a professional cleaning crew come in and clean that for us…she threw that in my face and went on to tell me how much that messed her up.I told her I had zero sympathy for her in that acpect since her uncle was going to have it cleaned but she insisted on doing it herself. I was 14 when my grandfather walked into the kitchen and stood behind me with a fully loaded .38 special pressed firmly against his right temple and asked us if we thought he was a joke. I managed to get out of the house, the whole time I kept checking myself thinking he shot me. As I ran down the street for help I was scared he was going to kill my family, I was scared he was going to come after me. I kept listening for the gun shots. By the time the police came, the disbatcher was calling over their radios saying people were calling in reporting hearing a gun shot. I stood over him, watched him breath, the whole back side of his head was just gone. It felt so surreal. I just stood there in shock thinking “this looks just like it does in the movies”. I ran outside screaming “oh my god” over and over again. A police officer came up to me and asked me if I was “okay”…no…no I wasn’t. He kept pushing me to the door, insisting I go back inside. There I was, face to face with him again. I sat on the floor opposite of him as EMTs worked to try and save him. There was no saving him. Now every day I live with one moment. One moment in time. The day before my grandfather almost wiped out 3 generations of my family, he was diagnosed again with dementia and bi polar disorder… Both of which he kept from us. He never left us with a reason why, just confusion and emptiness. I know I’ll never know why, but every year it doesn’t get any easier to deal with this time of year. My family just pretends and carries on like it didn’t happen. My grandfather suffered through mental illness for his whole life, and we suffered right along with him not knowing why. Why forget a person? Why move on like it didn’t happen? It makes me sick. My grandmother had him cremated and kept his ashes in the house for several year before she went on a trip to the Smokey Mountains and got rid of his ashes there without telling anyone. I try to make reason of the things my family does, but there’s no reasoning with dysfunctional people, especially a family like mine. I’m constantly asking “why?!” With only them answering me in their selfish actions. It’s going to be a long winter ahead for me.
