Day 1 – My path to recovery – my life with Complex PTSD

I have had one of the worse weeks emotionally of my life.  Something the EAP counselor is calling a breakthrough.  To me though, this doesn’t feel like a breakthrough – it feels like I am completely and utterly broken.

If you don’t know what an EAP counselor is – it is that number they give you through your job just in case you lose your fucking mind.  I have seen therapists over the years – some to deal with the trauma from my ex-husband – but what I never really dealt with was the PTSD I had before I ever met him.

Imagine that – I had PTSD before my abusive relationship.  Something up until recently, I had never tied together.  I guess, now looking back over the past few years, I can tell that I was preparing for this eye opening, connect the dots, unexpected realization of life events that led up to the moment that I said I do to someone who had already physically abused me before I walked down that isle.  Something I had went out of my way to dig out of myself.  Something looking back I almost wish I had never done.  But I had to understand – I had to figure out why I kept getting into these negative relationships that negatively affected my outlook on life.  I mean basically I was seeking the root cause to the issues that led up to the constant failures in my life.  I mean you can only have so many failed relationships in your life before you really have to just sit back and think to yourself – why – why am I allowing these people to treat me the way they do?  And not just bad relationships – but leave your ass in the hospital praying you gonna make it through to see your daughter again kind of bad abusive relationship.

I would be completely dismissive about the abuse too.  Like it wasn’t that big of a deal.  But it was.  The effects, life changing.  To top off the already emotionally unstable basket of mine – I allowed my daughter to witness this abuse.  Another thing I never really understood about myself.  I had to understand why.

I survived the abuse.  No one ever talks about surviving your own fucking head when the abuse is over.  They talk about being strong enough to leave – that there is life – but what happens when you do – and the dust settles – and you start to really analyze your life.

Well you figure out shit…

Something I’ve always known – but never really correlated it all together.  I have always known that I have OCD.  I have always talked about it openly, ever since I was young.  Something easier to accept I suppose.  People interchangeably use the term “OCD” to describe moderate cleaning – but really OCD is an obsessive compulsive disorder, which means you can really obsess about a variety of different things – but often most associated with cleaning because people with OCD need order and often live in pretty clean environments – again we need order – plus control – and since we don’t feel like we have internal order – keeping our environment in order is calming.

The thing is though – my OCD really stems from my C-PTSD.  C-PTSD and PTSD are two very different conditions.  PTSD is a single event, or a series of events in a short amount of time, while C-PTSD is when someone goes through multiple traumas throughout their lives, or as I like to reference as – a series of unfortunate events.

When I started living completely alone – I started to observe and analyze current and past behaviors.  Everything from my past drug use to interpersonal relationships to just day to day activities.

There are some things that I began to notice.  A detachment from others.  An obsession with Law & Order SVU.  An obsession with locks.  One thing that I do, that was incredibly eye opening….

When I sleep, I cover my privates with my hands…

These are things I have always done….

I connected too many dots….

I accepted abuse in my adult life, because I loved an abuser throughout my childhood life, and not one, not two, but three of them.

You see I was raised with boys – all ranging in age.  A few older, a few younger.

I was also raised in the middle of a family with a long line of pedophiles, some in state prison, some in  county, but quite a few, so as you can imagine – really – the girls in our family really didn’t have a fighting chance.  Something, also up until recently I hadn’t really put together.

I also dismissed these actions as childhood curiosity, but there was nothing curious about it – the only person that didn’t understand what was fully happening at the time was me.  And plus – it had to have been normal – it didn’t happen once, twice, but three different people – and the only person that hated it was me.

So there had to have been something wrong with me.

A feeling that I have been feeling my entire life.

A feeling that my job has dug out of me to the point to where I have been self-destructing.

A feeling that has brought on a flood of emotions.

You might ask yourself, how does my job bring out those emotions.

Well…

I work inside an office with a woman who hasn’t liked me since day 1.  Not sure what it is really – but the consensus at work is that she is just a miserable person.  Such a miserable person that it has left me on the floor in the bathroom at work having a full blown anxiety attack.  Her consistent attempts to seek out anything I do to get my into trouble – the constant negative feedback – the nitpicking about my hair –  her bitching about me being too loud while on the phone (conducting business I might add)  – typing too loud (that what happens when you type 120 wpm) but nothing happened, other than my boss getting pissed off at me for “breaking chain of authority” whilst smacking papers around at her desk.  People at work keep trying to tell me not to let her win – but the thing is – I shouldn’t have to fight to work….

My boss isn’t any better.  She doesn’t try to curb her behavior – only mine.  Something that is un-rooting this childhood trauma by the seams – because the biggest thing I have realized..

All my crazy and erratic behavior was ALWAYS for a reason.  All the weird shit I do – it  isn’t just because I am fucked up – I mean – I am – but it isn’t because I was born fucked up – it wasn’t because I was born with someone wrong with me – it is because I have had some fucked up things happen to me.  A soul can only take so much pain before things start to break down.

I have finally figured out why I have a hard time connecting, why I always feel out of place, why I prefer dogs over humans, why I always feel anxious, why I always feel everything so intensely, why my memory sucks, I get foggy headed, can’t stay awake during meetings.

But it isn’t really making me feel any better.  It is almost making me feel worse.  Like it’s been a lifetime of fuckery.  Like a lifetime.  A whole fucking life.  My innocence was taken before I even understood what that even was.  And then I got looked at like I was crazy and erratic my whole fucking life – and NO ONE – NO ONE around me ever noticed?

I had all the classic signs of some one who had been molested, and you are going to tell me, that no one, not once, ever, in our family, at school – no one – NO ONE could ever tell that there was something not right?

It is the same shit I am going through at work.  It has gotten to the point to where I can’t even drive to work without crying.  I mean, it’s like everyone at work knows what a miserable person my co-worker is  – they know what she is doing – like I have reported the incidents – and yet NO ONE has done anything – except tell me how I needed to change my outlook on things – again making me feel like it’s me.

I have an appointment Monday – but have been advised by two counselors to not return back to work until after then.  I’m scared of what will become.  I’ve known since probably week 2 at my job that my job was going to be a trigger, but thought I could manage my symptoms, but now we are 8 months in and I know if I step one more foot back into that place and have one more episode – I will be hauled away in cuffs, headed to the psych ward – because of course I’m the crazy one..  Doesn’t matter that for 8 months someone sat across from me intimidating me every chance that she gets – then to have management turn away and make it out to be how I’m perceiving things.

Things were already tough financially – and now – because for some fucking reason – I can’t just get over shit – I can’t take it when people are hateful continuously – I feel like I’m living my abuse all over again…  Abuse after abuse after abuse – and the only thing consistent in all aspects is me….

So how am I going to do this?  I have no fucking clue.  But what I do know – I can’t live like this..

I did do some research – cause you know I’m trying to understand – and I also kind of figured out that sitting in an office – probably isn’t healthy for me – especially when there is constant negativity in the workplace..  I mean I feel like I already knew that.  I mean the things I enjoy – music, working out, dogs, creating, writing, reading, all these thing have always help me channel my energy – these are also supposed to be the best jobs for someone like me.  But I’m struggling with the fact of not feeling like a failure.

It is like all this shit that has created who I am – all that pain – while it make me strong – and made me the woman I am today – it has also made me weak – made it to where I’ll never have a piece of property to leave my child – not unless I can figure out a way for my baking business and my music to compensate my income.

Which… I should be working on that today….

Well I guess I already am – cause I seen “author/writer” on that list of good jobs for people with PTSD.

I guess I knew two years ago that this point was coming.  I mean for fuck’s sake – I called the blog itself “The Beautiful Truth”

The fucking beautiful truth is – I am a fucking nutbag because people jumped on my heart and soul before it had fully developed… it wasn’t ready for that kind of pain..  and then I had to love each of you past it because you were family…

And maybe I’m saying this out loud – because maybe one of you is reading is – and maybe this is how I heal – maybe this is part of the recovery.  Maybe this is how I finally explain my life to my family – the ones that were always confused about my shit storm of a life…

Not that any of them would ever believe me… Because remember I am the crazy one….

But I am ready to move past this in my life.  And if that means I need to stop molding to society – and create my own little world to survive – then dammit – that is exactly what I’ll do.  I don’t know what that is going to look like cause right now all I can think about is getting to my appointment Monday and trying to decompress today…  I called into work… brings it’s own financial burdens – but I can’t work in this condition.. you can call it weak – because right now I would agree….  But you don’t get strong without once being weak…. and at this rate – in the end – when I get through this little bump – I’mma come out on that other side one of the strongest bitches you ever met…

If you have ever been a victim of childhood trauma – take an ACES test. A score of 4 or higher is serious – and you should get treatment before you get to the point I am at today.  I got a 5….

To my two female cousins if you are reading this – know – you aren’t alone… I don’t even really know how to approach the subject with either of you because I don’t know where your at with your mental health – and I don’t want to unscab something – so I will leave all that very vague…

And FYI – I have thousands of cousins – so you can have a nice time figuring out which two I’m talking about – but they know……One grandma the oldest of like 17 I think – and the other the oldest I think of 15 – but fuck I can’t remember (the story of my fucking life) – but legit I have too many – I can’t even keep count.

AND HERE’S ANOTHER THING – IF YOU ARE IN MY FAMILY AND YOU READING THIS – AND YOU WANNA COME AT ME WITH “FAMILY SHIT BEHIND CLOSED DOORS BULLSHIT” – FUCK YOU – ME AND MY KID AIN’T BEEN A PART OF ANY FUCKING FAMILY OUTSIDE MY MOM AND 1 AUNT – YOU WANT TO TALK ABOUT FAMILY – FIRST YOU MUST BE ONE – WE BEEN HAVING CHRISTMAS AND BIRTHDAYS SOLO FOR YEARS

MY FAMILY IS HERE…

To my Mom, if you ever read this – I know you asked me once and I said no… there was no way to tell you.. still isn’t – at least not face to face – you know how I like my Smeads (notebooks)… but you didn’t fail me as a Mom – you are a great Mom – and I wish I could remember more about my childhood – I really do – but I don’t… I feel like the bad consumed all the good – I know I have put you through hell – and I am sorry. The world hasn’t been too kind to me when the lights go out… that is why I always stayed up reading at night – if the light was on – I would at least get in trouble from staying up to late – so I knew you were coming to check on me.. My adult life, the struggle with my addiction, the acceptance of the physical abuse, the bouncing all over the place – it is all because I have been running – running from what has happened – but I am TIRED of running.. I have been trying to plant roots to show you I am finally ready to help you understand – buying a house – that was all to feel foundation under my feet that was new – and I pray soon – I will have a house – and you will come see me – and I will be better – I am ready to settle down with Greg – and I am ready to build a firm foundation for my child – even though I have already fucked up her life enough – and she is already an adult – I have time to fix it – time to help her through her PTSD from seeing the abuse between me and asshole – before she becomes a mom -the cycle ends here.

Some people might ask yourself – why here – why do this here..

Because this is my journal.  This is my life.  Over the past two years – I haven’t been sharing my life with you in hopes of nothing more than people to see the real me – not the person people claim me to be  – but the real me..  Most days – it’s real basic – work, home, work, home, work, home – but then there are those days to where it’s not – the days that I hear something, see something, smell something – and then I’m not okay – BUT FUCK I AM TRYING.. Every day this is a struggle.  Some days better than others.. Life is hard.. We are complex..  Together over the past two years you have been watching me heal – and repair a lifetime of bullshit – and you didn’t even know – cause I did it with a smile on my face – and truth be told – I DIDN’T EVEN KNOW ..The music – the “Momma Rapper” a coping mechanism – my songs written based on the very events – put in a creative manner – but if you read the lyrics – read the meaning – back in September – “That’s Some Shady Shit” – while I promoted it as a track for Em – it was really about me realizing my pain has been there for life – and I have been slowly uncovering it because I am finally away from the abuse and in a loving environment where I am allowed to have feelings and not get looked at like I’m fucking stupid..  Alone for 3 years to process – and now about to celebrate 1 year with Greg – which let me say – I have been non-stop with the waterworks all week – and Greg  – no judgment – just love and “What can I do honey”  I have been here – healing with you – this has been my group therapy, my work through, my processing…

I find peace here.. With you… Whoever is reading this…

This is where I come to release the demons….

You will see me get through this…

Admitting you know you need help is the first step…

The second is smoking a blunt waiting on Monday to get here so me and this counselor can figure out how to deal with this before I lose my shit.  (FYI Marijuana is natural, is medical, also treats my gastroparesis. Two big issues, 1 beautiful flower, again I choose pot over pills)

The third..  Walk the dogs

Then yoga…

Then maybe some song writing….

 

Don’t mind me… I’m healing….20191130_095345-1

 

 

 

 

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