Why is it that it’s hard to call things what they clearly are?
Does anyone else have this problem? I know people who hate the word moist. I have many other words that I hate. They just make things seem so vulgar. BUT THEY ARE VULGAR!
Here I am, almost 15 years out of Mom and Dads house, where the bulk of my crazy happened, and I still can’t call it what it is - at least not without cringing and feeling like there’s a trash compactor crushing something inside me.
Does shame ever go away?
I’m still numb to something that happened my first year out. I was so confused. I didn’t understand flashbacks. I didn’t understand my dreams. Nothing felt safe but somehow I was fearless, riding around with a basic stranger, putting my life in danger and not caring. Living through something else and not caring. I don’t think that shame will ever go away.
I was in therapy for seven years before I met my husband. I thought I’d learned so much. I thought I was better. But it’s become clear to me that all I’d learned is how to manage symptoms. I didn’t learn how to react differently and this has gotten me in trouble.
Its easy to call myself names. It’s a nice escape from admitting where I come from and giving myself some compassion. It’s still hard to wrap my mind around everything, but for the first time in my life I truly don’t feel alone. For that I am thankful. I don’t say nearly as much to my reach out and hug me humans as I do here. Thanks for letting me spew everything. Being in such a confusing situation feels like it’s my fault. It feels like I should have seen this coming and sometimes it feels like it’s not actually happening. But it is. This is not in my head. He’s on his best behavior right now because I’ve insisted on counseling. I’ve been asking for changes for our entire marriage and I put my foot down when it got worse. It was counseling or separating and he doesn’t want to lose his family. Maybe the changes will stay but I’m not giving into the fear that issues don’t need to be addressed simply because certain behaviors have stopped.
The problem is not my ptsd, although sometimes it is a factor. The problem is the way he treats me and the way I’ve lost myself reacting the way I reacted growing up. When my counselor reminded me that I have been a victim but that it does not need to take over my identity I misunderstood that to mean that I’m bringing the problems to the table. She meant that I’m bringing my old safety plans to the table when I should know how to enforce boundaries and know when to leave. I didn’t know what to do when talking didn’t help. So now I’m learning.
One thing that I keep reading today is how can one person go through so much? Not to belittle my own story but it feels insignificant to many of yours. And yet from as young as 4 years old I was living in fear. I moved out to learn about PTSD and experience something I still won’t admit, then a break in, sexual harassment at work, and relationship problems. In every phase of my life I’ve experienced, sexual abuse, fear and denial of circumstance - childhood, single living and marriage. This is an ugly world. But I’ve said some of my “vulgar” language tonight. I think I’m old enough to call it what it is. Embracing our pain is the only way through it right? So many ugly words. They don’t define me.
I really felt it yesterday.. I have high anxiety, and depression, I am anti-social, and yesterday was my sons birthday party. he invited 12 friends, and only 1 showed up. to top it off i had invited the neighbour next door and i saw her with her headphones on coming in from a walk, but she didn't come to his party with her kid.. she rather do nothing than his party.. The neighbour accross the...