Have courage in yourself.
You will see the things that your mind needs you to see.
We are here. Wherever here is and we have unwelcome company. Knock knock, it's PTSD. Not exactly the kind of friend I thought I would ever spend time with. This friend brings misery and pain. It destroys and terrorizes. You will lose yourself as PTSD defies your space, your person, your boundaries and effectively forces you to see, do, feel as it says. Uncomfortably similar to the abuser's infliction upon us in terms of pain, emotional devastation and complete personal invasion. It has purpose of healing unlike abuse, no matter how bad it may seem. You must confront that which you are escaping. It is only through our suffering that we will find relief.
There was a point years ago, when I felt something surfacing. I couldn't at the time have began to really comprehend the magnitude of impact that would become my present, my today. Reality was literally knocking at the door of my very own fantasy, my safe place. Looking back its easier to understand why I had created this place. My marriage was suffering, I had been making choices out of my character, this was a phase in my life. (Coming soon) I was more discombobulated and unsure than I had ever felt. Nothing was working, nothing was right.
Looking back I realize this time in my life was the turning point. I just didn't know it yet. This is when PTSD began securing itself in my world bit by bit. My sleep habits suffered, depression, and disinterest in life swept over me. This lead me to a
psychotherapist that I will forever be grateful to, you know, once I get to the point of feeling and expressing true gratitude. Feeling, its just not something I've been able to do for myself unless it was deliberate to appease, or use my empathetic tendencies so I could feel something, even if it was feelings for others.
This life I felt was getting the better of me, despite my justification of giving only the best efforts was not making sense anymore. This was merely a mirage in the desert of dismay. The judgement that I placed wildly, unfairly, and regretfully with no regard to most things I considered as outside my reality and viewed as threat. It was a sense of feeling in a way. A replacement to what I should have felt, how I needed to feel, simply the way I actually felt, me, my feelings because I could not seem to really grasp what was supposed to belong to ME! I lived in denial. Denial is not safe, it is not real, it does not lead to success, fulfillment, or anything I've spent my entire life telling myself I was chasing.
Its a difficult thing to open your eyes. Its painful and all to real. That is why the term reality check resonates so strong in many. It evokes emotion, real true emotion. What not many people will tell you, what no one told me, is that fear, anger, sadness, and similarly uncomfortable emotions are still emotions and those are okay. I was so comforted by fantasy and denial because I could pick something I felt in charge of. I had power and control, unlike my childhood reality and ensuing adult relationships. This was the only choices I was able to make, yet because I didn't know I was making them, I felt powerless. My choice was to deny all things in relation to, slightly similar to, or reminiscent of anything that may connect my fantasy to my reality concerning the relationship with my Mother.
She always chose bad, so I made a point to choose good. She was negative, I thrived in all positive. She was hurtful, I am at times, overly helpful. She was ridged, mean, assertive in unhealthy ways, violent, crude, horrid, hateful, evil, sick, destructive, damaging, revengeful, abusive, selfish and downright awful in every fucking way. I chose passiveness, concern, kindness, forgiveness, love, generosity, consideration, uplifting, successful, attentive, and as much good as humanly possible. Or at least my interpretations of these things. I wanted to, and thought I was making a difference. I lived for others, because she only lived for herself. I chose everyone, deserving or not, over myself. I could never understand how I could put out so much positive, love, good, but be met with so much negativity, and failure constantly. I maintained my fantasy despite those failures, defeat, and a sense of something missing. I sought fulfillment, a selfish tendency, but completely natural under the proper circumstances, another thing I was naive to. This brought a constant feeling of guilt, blame, personal dissatisfaction, lack of self worth, no trust in myself, low/no self esteem, and a general lack of comprehension that left me completely bewildered as a regular state of mind. There was a complete disconnect between my reality and the fantasy required to survive and thrive.
I asked myself yesterday in my
Mommy Dearest thread if it was an important concept in my recovery that I believed something about my Mother that was not factual. (I identify my mind as a house during my self searching to give it a sense of something tangible, something not larger than myself.) This concept of my Mother was a key, a skeleton key for all imaginary purposes. It was the key to the front door of my home. A home, not a house I built but do not deserve, MY HOME! MY MIND! I unlocked one door to a very large house. A house filled with doors, rooms, darkness, dust, and for all intensive purposes of this metaphor, shit. It needs a lot of work. This door unlocked an awareness of a single aspect of my internal conflict, my search for a missing soul. Just one single room in a vast house of horrors, some I filled myself, some with the remnants of people I allowed to occupy with these spaces, and others were filled with the needs of my survival.
Make no mistake my Mother was not a good person nor parent even in the loosest definitions. That has not changed in my mind in any way other than accepting her true identity. I have accepted this as another component of my fantasy, but clarified my life long perspective of her. The image I believed in, the nurturing components such as love, protection, care/concern, guidance, and respect that were associated with this fictitious version of her. A woman whom I desperately sought after well into adulthood belonged not to her, THAT WAS ME, MY NURTURING COMPONENTS! I saw her, because I refused to believe in myself!!
I could not fathom how my personal ability to self-learn could have been met with success and not failure. The worst part of childhood abuse, particularly emotional abuse is when its complimented with an even deeper level pain only found in a psychopath/narcissistic parents. They can manipulate innocence but leave no evidence of such. There is no empathy, no love only selfish, self rewarding behaviors. It is only those special souls that can survive, remain innocent through coping mechanisms, or will power to overcome and remain in tact, purely good on the other side. I survived and for awhile thrived until this damn delayed on-set of PTSD came into my life like, "Hey! Worst fears are here!"
I tell myself that I survived, these are just memories, like dreams they can not hurt me. If I allow myself to see what my mind needs me to see then they will stop. I will be a mother fucking success story!
I feel emotion. I feel excitement and satisfaction, a fulfillment if you will that has gone to a place within me and taken hold. This represents a value, a confidence, a moment of worth that allows a brief breath of fresh air. YES fresh air!! I've mentally and physically for just this second, stepped outside the garage, my proverbial safe zone. Look at what beauty has risen from destruction. I feel a sudden wave of the oh so familiar feeling I've become so accustom to these days. I can identify it as trepidation, terror, fear and I feel myself mentally buckle down. There is much to process. I have so far to go. This was one key to one door... My heart races, shoulders slump but there is something positive that remains within, hope.
I'm had a great moment, one I hope will overflow into a great day! I did not write this in the garage! I sat upon my second story porch (still safe above the reach of the world) admiring the day, the lake activity, the beauty that seems to be slightly different, yet it has not changed. Only my view has changed. It was not long lasting, but it was a moment. Today is Independence Day, truly. I will break free and regain my independence!! I just cant give up.
Do you have hope? It exists, I felt it for a second. Have you? Is any body out there?
