(C-)PTSD Thread

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^ Believing, listening, not making invalidating comments are all good ways to be supportive.

^ Am I a bit naive to think this is just common sense.

One would think it would just be common sense.

I think sometimes people expect survivors to move on and “get over it” after some time has elapsed without realizing that it’s going to be something they’ll probably deal with on some level for the rest of their lives.

Perhaps some get frustrated because they lack sufficient understanding or empathy.

Trauma causes a permanent neurological injury. ^
It affects the entire nervous system which affects all our organs.
Maybe they should tell me to get over my strokes too?

^ I wouldn’t put it past certain people.

Pain. Bam, bam, bam - the distinctly audible sound of my head ramming into the wall while MH was doing the specific thing that I hated the most because it hurt. Insomnia. I was so tired because I hadn't been sleeping well. After these sorts of occasions, I always had trouble sleeping. When I expressed that I was in pain and wanted him to stop, he said: "Wait, I'm almost done." Trapped.



Still, bam, bam, bam. Of course, it wasn't the most unpleasant thing that was going on, so there's that. I thought: "Maybe it's a useful distraction" or "Maybe it will knock some sense into me, so I can figure out what I should do." I tried to swallow the feelings of rage and hate which grew with each passing moment.

All of the sudden and for no reason at all...or maybe for every reason, I thought about Winnie the Pooh. My son was three at the time, and we loved reading Winnie the Pooh together before bed each night. It was something special - something that we both looked forward to. Anyway, here's the quote that suddenly came to my mind:

Then I started to giggle. Soon I began to laugh, and I couldn't stop. I was laughing hysterically as if this were the funniest thing I had ever thought of or experienced in my entire life. Before too long, the laughs turned into sobs - sobs that were as uncontrollable, violent, and hysterical as the laughs were. I've not laughed or cried like that since.

Due to the laughter (not the crying - that never seemed to phase him), MH couldn't finish from a biological standpoint which sucked because it made him flaming mad and I knew that there'd be a sequel very soon - the next day - since it had all been for naught and "a man has needs." I felt like I could never catch a break. At least the bamming had stopped for the time being, but sleep was as elusive a stranger as ever when I got in bed, cuddling up next to the rosy-cheeked cherub who was still blissfully asleep.

I'd be more than happy to bam, bam, bam the back of his head with something like this:

^ Thanks!

I was also thinking about something like this:

This one seems to enjoy a happy ending. ^

Turning Point

It wasn't as bad a time as most others which maybe helped me see things more clearly.

TW!!

In the middle of this specific incident, I experienced a revelation: I realized that ending things by any means necessary was worth the risk. My happiness sanity and selfhood as an autonomous individual were worth it. Life was not worth living under these circumstances. If I died, oh well. If I could get out and live, even better. Cost-benefit analysis. When will he ever be finished?!?

The next day in desperation I sought help from a person who was posing as a friend. I had no one else at the time since even my brother was still shunning me. (He's apologized for his behavior and is now an atheist and my BFF.) ANYWAY, apparently, hearing such a distressing story in a desperate phone call from a victimized female can be highly arousing for certain individuals - even during that initial phone call when the female in question needed real help and support. As time went on, this specific "friend" wanted to know ALL the details to complete the fantasy. I was too out of it at the time to fully grasp what he was really after until much later, and I needed to talk. I needed to know that my feelings and experiences mattered or "counted."

Anyway, referring to the specific incident mentioned above, the "friend" asked if there was any part of me that wanted it. The answer was: "No, I didn't want to." I didn’t find the event at all arousing when it was happening, and I was there, mostly.

My brain was generally not present on these sorts of occasions. I full on disassociated or I simply tried to think about things that were much more pleasant - like philosophical ideas I studied in college, snippets of books that I had read, or my inner fantasy world which was fueled by stuff such as the work of Tolkien and a certain video game series. MH didn’t like that there were parts of me which he could never reach. I think it even angered him. It’s hard to describe those piercing, angry eyes that were lusting to fill a void with something that would always be safely out of his reach.

Here's a good quiz for CPTSD for anyone visiting this thread.

https://courses.crappychildhoodfairy.com/cptsd-quiz

I watched the movie Women Talking today.

A few quotes that really resonated with me and my experience with trauma/CPTSD:

This one killed me:

Ona to August.

Couldn't be more true.

I can relate. For me, it's like waking up during a vivid dream. For a second I have the image, the feeling, the clarity and then it evaporates. I take comfort in knowing I'm safe, right now. That I'm viewing it from the outside, rather than living it. It still drives the bus sometimes, though. I'll behave in a way that is not typical of me, I don't get it immediately. Only after much uncomfortable thought do I understand that it was a trauma response.

Prayers for you...

He just called - the first time in months. He’s planning on coming over, supposedly to visit our son soon. He wished me a happy Mother’s Day.

Did you send him my regards? / sarc

I'm glad he's seeing his son.
Then again, is he a good influence?