Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) Support Group
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methinks the covidic isolation has set my help-seeking denial demon loose again. in the early 70's when i first started on my recovery road, i was quick to ask for help and even quicker to find fatal flaws in every scrap of help offered. in that era, that quirk was being called, "help seeking denial."
the help i so desperately needed in conjunction the domestic upheavels of 2019 was not available in coronaville. just mask it all and increase your social distance. we ain't asking. it has been mandated. hearing problems have excluded me from the resulting zoom boom. the same hearing issues make "just call" a less than justy affair, even if i has the social skills to ask if lip reading was an available option.
fast forward 3+ years and i have been struggling to find the trust to try again. two weeks ago i was rather proud of myself for having --at last-- found a live, mask free support group at a time which the demands of my second parenting career could accommodate. i resisted the urge to run from the young-at-heart spa "girls" who were the only attendees by reminding myself to trust the healing mysteries and dance with what life sends me.
i bolted and ran in full hypervigilant flight mode from the second meeting. it was a business meeting where the members were discussing the inner workings of keeping the group going. in retrospect, i probably should have excused myself from the meeting. i am too new to have plausible insights and too fragile to handle the pragmatism. but i stayed and held steady until one of the spiffiest of the spa girls started asking to have her personal triggers institutionalized. one person's trigger is another person's treasure. her request was coached entirely third person plural, carrying my heart back to the back of the station wagon i was raised in with 10 royal we siblings in eternal flight from the mean, evil, "THEY." it is possible i never heard use of the first person singular until high school grammar class. for sure, i never appreciated the meaning of first person singular until well into my recovery.
at least, i think that is what triggered my hysterical flight. it's hard to distinguish fact from delusion in a psychic fog. the theory has been resonating peacefully for two days now. i'm not quite sure what i am reaching for here. just trying to get ^it^ into words.
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I haven't written in my diary on my computer since May because I thought that my computer was dying. I got away from writing but my computer is hanging in there. I think that I will start writing in it again. It's so therapeutic.
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First, I hope everyone is doing well, and continuing to fight that good fight! Keep up the great work on yourselves; I'm rooting for all of you!So, I started doing therapy at the beginning of the year, when I was in my most depressed state, but with my therapist, I made big changes and steps in the right direction. But, over a month ago, she couldn't take my insurance anymore, and I had to stop...
I’ve definitely left meetings before, you’re not alone. I hope you can be gentle with yourself. I think when you’re ready to maybe you’ll go again to another meeting or something & if you’re not in a place for it rite now that’s okay too
Gentle hug <3
this is far from the first meeting/therapy session which has triggered my over-developed flight instinct. i consider it progress that i stopped flying before i reached another continent.
itsy bitsy baby steps. . .
when the time is right, all the pieces will be there.
I can tell a story of how someone who did something constructive. A friend was in a foster home and seriously abused many years ago as was her brother. The man died and my friend found out about the funeral. It was a dignified event, the widow being comforted and then my friend went in, and loudly started talking about what happened to her and the abuse in that terrible house. The widow (who participated) said to the funeral director, keep her quiet and get her out, but that's not so easy in practice. My friend loudly continued with the real version of events, and the police came.
At first the lady wanted to do something, but realized there was a possible countercharge and the events would be ventilated, so she did nothing. And my friend got the satisfaction of knowing that he did not get to rest in peace and she got to meaningfully take some steps to even the score.
thank you, bobby. i'm a bit confused on your story. did your friend's act of vengeance bring her sustainable peace of mind? my own acts to even scores have backfired on me, every time, up to and including stays in holding cells. i've replaced scorekeeping with healing hopes for all. no exceptions.
reaching to be gentle with myself and patient with the process.
i'm still curious to know if the music your son uses to therapute is recorded or live.