5/25/2023 C-PTSD
All my life I’ve felt like I’m in my own fish bowl. The ugly duckling. The peg that doesn’t quite fit. My reality always seems so off from what others expressed. My world was always full of this intense despair and hesitation. Fear. As a little girl I searched in books for the answer to, “What’s wrong with me?” Is something really wrong with my brain? The answer bothers me more than I expected.
Typing it pisses me off. Anger… yup, that’s another symptom. I’ve felt angry all my damn life. It’s not even anger. It’s rage. I thought I outgrew that. Maybe it was part of being a teenager but I just got better at disconnecting from it. It’s easy to feel irritation or annoyance. Especially with myself. It ties in with the shame, guilt, and sense of worthlessness. I’m garbage and no one can change my mind. Stress is a fast track to an immediate, “I’m broken” or “I should die” thought.
Is that an issue with emotional regulation? An overreaction to stress? An emotional flashback? Do other people feel this way ever? Is this not a thing? What about the interpersonal relationship stuff? I know I have a very difficult time trusting. I maintain a distance even from those I love because it’s dangerous to relax. To let someone help because I might forget how to do it myself. I rather avoid that emotional rollercoaster. But I do have long-term relationships. Do they see this stuff? C-PTSD sounds like an awful person. Is that why I dislike myself? Does part of me know I’m an asshole? I know my ACE score is 9/10 but that’s not meant to be an in-depth assessment.
Could you be a 9 and not have C-PTSD? These articles and websites say most childhood sexual abuse victims have it. That’s stupid. I doubt that’s accurate because as one, I don’t go around telling people about it let alone even know what symptoms I have. Apparently, I can spend my whole life not knowing. Most of us don’t even report it-the abuse. We shove it down and move on. Is that the reflex of an unhealthy brain? According to all these sites my brain is “unhealthy”. Another symptom is the increased risk of health problems. My medical chart is excessive. I have a specialist for every organ in my body. Inflammation disorders, skin disorders, digestive issues, endometriosis, fibroids, muscle tension, body pains… (even with disassociation, that seems explains my ridiculously high pain tolerance)...but the list goes on. The cells in my body hold the suffering of my life. They’re angry like me and set fire to my insides.
EMDR is helpful for singular events of trauma. Not so helpful for this complex crap. So, am I stuck with this brain? With this… person? My brain was too vulnerable when this shit happened. It didn’t even have the chance to develop… I didn’t have a chance. So how can anything fix the damaged wiring in my skull?
I don’t even know what is part of my personality and what is defective wiring. Am I a heavy drinker because it’s, “what I enjoy” or because I can’t cope with all these stupid symptoms? Do I withdraw because I’m, “respecting my alone time” or because I need to avoid others? Do I have a hard time trusting people because they’re assholes or because I’ve experienced one too many assholes? Do I hate myself because I’m a piece of shit or never had the opportunity to take in another perspective in my early developmental years?
Then there’s the shit of having the most leveled and appropriate response to absolute danger. I can handle violence, threats, and danger. Is this a defect? That’s the only time my hypervigilance, beliefs, judgment, and emotions seem on point. COVID didn’t hit me like others. I was built for that level of constant vigilance. Law enforcement? Cake. Fight breaking out, threats to my safety, even verbal assaults are expected. But every other time it’s an obnoxious reaction to a mistake I’ve made or perceived to make, because of the whole, “I’m garbage” shit.
Who could I have been? Is my amygdala enlarged? Is my frontal cortex remarkably smaller than the norm? Could I have been smarter? Kinder? Trusting?... Happy? Is there another reality where I’m not scared, anxious, depressed, mistrusting, lonely, ashamed, self-destructive, irritable, hostile, hypervigilant? Where I don’t have panic attacks, insomnia, nightmares, unwanted thoughts/memories, detachment/depersonalized episodes, safety behaviors, poor memory, difficulty concentrating, heightened startle response, or feel completely at the mercy of whatever my brain feels like doing for the day?
Am I meant to spend the rest of my life finding ways to work with tangled Christmas lights for a brain?
5/23/2023
The ups and downs are constant
I cycle into different spaces
Anxiety and then depression
Then back to anxiety
This space where I’m held is suffocating
I exude anhedonia
Yet at my core is pure fear
Never have they held space at the same time
Life is difficult to experience
And at any moment I feel I might lose it
One more drop and the cup will overflow
I’ve been in the fight all my life
But now it feels like this round is more significant
I’m fighting against fate
I’m exhausted
Maybe She’s the anxiety at my core
Scared, yet full of more heat than my outer shell
5/20/2023
He says it’s his fault.
That he did things wrong as a father.
I don’t correct him.
He says it twice and I wonder if he wants me to correct him.
I don’t feel angry right now.
I feel sad and frustrated.
Frustrated that this is my life.
Sad, that this is my life.
I’m fighting so hard.
He won’t ever understand
That this is my best.
5/19/2023
I heard of C-PTSD before. I never looked into it or thought too deeply about it. In retrospect, maybe this is telling in itself. I read about it in articles about people held hostage for decades of their lives. People raped and beaten constantly in the span of years or survived war zones. I knew I had some things I struggled with. Things from my past that made it hard to fall asleep and all too easy to wake before dawn. I had struggled remembering a lot of my childhood and it has always been painful to trust others. I’ve understood some of these concepts, but I always kept them at a distance. After all, I could work. No matter what was going on in my life, I have always been able to work. And even when I didn’t want to, I knew it would help me feel better. Rather it would be a good distraction from the noise in my head. I was successful in that way. I could complete any task at a proficient level if I set my mind to it. I could survive. That just didn’t line up with anything I believed about trauma.
The first time the distance closed was in 2020. I wanted relief from the fear that rushed through my veins when driving a car. The accident almost left me paralyzed and even till present day, I experience pain daily. The fear was ridiculous. It was an inconvenience. I needed to drive so I wanted to address it. I was prepared to explore the emotions and thoughts that came with this fear. I, however, was met face-to-face with the reality of my life, my story. No one had ever used the term C-PTSD when talking about me. She sat across for me and uttered the words so effortlessly I thought she may have been mistaken. She continued to talk but focusing on the emotional pain from the car accident. So, I let myself forget. Depression? Sure, I have that. Anxiety? Oh yeah, I’m always on edge. Panic attacks? I remember being 5 when I had my first one. But C-PTSD? How could I be categorized with populations who experienced war and were stolen from their families to live decades of their lives in a basement? I didn’t pity these individuals. In fact, I always felt angry for them. For the injustice they experienced and the suffering they endured. I admired their strength. I feel it’s an insult to put me in a category with them.
5/18/2023
The wound you left on my soul will forever remain
I’m trying to learn to live as it bleeds out
I can’t blame you for the things that have happened to you
Or even for the ways it affected you
I can only hold you accountable for how you didn’t shield me from you
I can try to blame you for the never-ending disappointment
The grief of loving a mother who couldn’t love herself enough to make it to me
But even as a little girl I knew
I knew you couldn’t
You just couldn’t love me the way I needed
Nor the way I believe you wanted to
I continued to pour into you
Even as I watched the sand slip through your fingers
I cannot stop loving you
I admit, I want to
I need to learn to stop pouring
I’m sorry for the pain your soul has endured in its lifetimes
If I could choose my next life
I’d choose to be your mother
I’d show you the meaning of love
I’d teach you kindness and patience
I’d brush your hair and sing you to sleep
I’d ease you with my embrace
I’d pour into you
Every drop with pure intention
And you’d never have to question…
Never… ever have to question my love
I’d give you space to learn and grow
But always ready to step in to remind you,
You have never nor will ever be alone in this world…
5/18/2023 King
I don’t get to take you with me
Moving forward means leaving you
With each step, my heart tears some more
Breaking my own heart is showing you kindness
Giving you the compassion, you have so effortlessly given me
I’ve been mulling over the reasons why it has to be now
Why is this the last chapter you’re in?
This wasn’t the plan
I was working to create our home
I wonder if you came into my life to help me build
Never intending to stay
You knew I needed your energy to make it
Is this you telling me I no longer need you?
Because I don’t believe that’s true
You’ve carried me this far
I don’t think I can take it the rest of the way
I don’t see how
And honestly, I hesitate to do it without you
I’m ashamed of the hesitation
I wish I was braver
I want what’s best for you
Even if it leaves me in pieces…
5/11/2023 Happy Trees 2
Trying to explore and put words to my internal experience with trust has been an exceptional challenge
Articulating what trust is for me and how I know when someone has it scary
I have always been able to count on you
You have been a reliable and consistent force in my life for 2 years
I enjoy being around you because of your energy
I feel calm and at peace in your presence
I feel safe in your space and that’s probably the biggest compliment I can give anyone
Safety has always been hard to access
Fear leads me to hesitate showing you more and more of the mess in my mind
I fear judgment but each time I am me, I realize you accept me as I come
You give me space to ache and break without ever looking at me like I’m defective
You hold my deepest secrets
You keep my darkest thoughts and emotions in a vault
Your actions and words have always aligned
This integrity means so much to me
I can trust you to have hard conversations while also not needing to make everything a “thing”
I give you the benefit of the doubt that your intentions are from a place of care, always
Your self-awareness and own accountability put me at ease
I know boundaries will be respected and communicated as needed
I have a great appreciation for our emotional and intellectual connection
I have expressed numerous times how grateful I am for the knowledge you have given me
I’d just like to begin acknowledging all the other ways you have and continue to impact me
Thank you for being a part of my life
I want to keep knowing you until there’s no more life here for me
You’re a very extraordinary human
And thank you for always making me laugh
5/8/2023 10:50a
Goodbyes have always been easy for me.
People come and go.
No foundation has ever been stable. I’ve learned to move with the bends of the ground.
I’m self-sufficient.
But, I think that’s changing. I think I’m changing.
The fires consumed me entirely.
I’ve always desired to run back in for others.
I can pull more people with less armor.
Undefended I run back in.
I’m vulnerable to the embers.
I had to let you in to show you.
I had to let you in to understand you.
We have come together, connecting in the rawest form a human being can.
Soul and soul.
In this space, we heal.
Your imprint is left.
Now, I let go and run back in for more.
5/6/2023
I watch the wind blow through the trees. The power lines rock back and forth.
My mind is so heavy.
My body is so heavy. I can’t move it.
That’s the thought and emotion, can’t.
I close my eyes… I can’t sleep.
I can’t be here anymore so I leave
I’m unraveling and I don’t know how to stop it or slow it down
I’m struggling…
I’m fighting to be here and sometimes I wonder, what for?
5/7/2023 Happy Trees
As you know, I’m always focused on the hotdog.
Sometimes, no- often I miss the life occurring around me.
I’m blinded by the drive to survive and I can’t stop.
You understand that.
I miscalibrated the connection I have to you.
I’ve been reflecting on the relationships in my life.
I dissect the origin and progression of these connections.
Trust is a deeply wounded function of mine.
Yet, sometimes I can gamble with it.
I suppose it’s not much of a gamble in this sense.
There’s this circle I’ve created along the way.
The trust I have in these connections is unreal.
Least for me.
I don’t know what 100% trust looks like for me or if I have access to it.
But this circle contains whatever highest access I have to offer.
As I reflect on the progression, there is not a singular identifiable event.
Not one definitive piece of evidence that drives me to hand over the ticket.
This is why it’s not a gamble. Not with some people.
Not with you.
It’s a sense.
It’s a deep knowing and feeling.
I believe in soul connections.
Connections established eons ago.
It’s not a gamble to trust in a connection like this.
I only need to be brave enough to speak fear into the room.
Willing enough to acknowledge I have recognized you.
I’m an art museum of stories.
Achingly smeared across the walls.
I keep the ugly, messy parts of me in forbidden exhibits.
They crowd the halls.
I’ve shown you glimpses.
I’ve given you pieces.
Things I deny others access to.
This darkness would consume them, but not you.
You reflect it back at me.
Something about this feels safe and familiar.
Profoundly dark but safe.
All this to say, three big words.
I trust you.
5/4/2023
The shame intensifies. Shame, a familiar friend. It always seems to find me in my lowest moments. I’m trying my best. I’m depleted. I think it’s my best. (Enters shame)
My best most days, is ugly and messy. It’s too loud and I run. I seek the escape and the distance. I’ve stored jars of this stuff for years. They’ve collected dust in the back of shelves in forbidden rooms. I’ve cracked one open and realized it soured.
It’s poison. How could so much poison live in one space, one person?
I look at this wall of jars and realize I’m in the fight of my life.
5/4/2023
I’ve tried to pick up the brush. I fill the cup with water and line up the paint. I set the palette and rags. Ready.
I stare at the blank canvas.
The images and clips move through my head but I can’t pick up the brush.
I’m frozen. I’ve been here before. 10 years ago.
I abandoned the brush and discarded the canvas.
It’s so loud and it moves through me.
It’s the only way.
It’s like a current of suffering moving down my arms.
It moves the paint and aches on the canvas.
This act is the connecting of two forces. Two worlds.
Existing in the in-between rips through me.
I walk away and wonder if it’ll be another 10 years
4/27/2023
“I contemplate texting you
I sometimes miss your charm
You’d say something about how the stars
Have been looking like the freckles on my arm
Or how you thought about me
That’s always nice to hear
How I’m the first thought you have after downing each beer
How you considered reaching out
How you didn’t know what to say
How you remembered and then forgot
To speak to me each day
I contemplate your actions
The meaning in your eyes
How your “unintentional” silence
Cause a multitude of lies
Or whole reflection of truths
I honestly don’t know which is worse
You hit the gas
But our car is stuck in reverse
I tell you to be careful
But You don’t like looking back
I bring up responsibility
“But you really need to start cutting me some slack!”
You don’t understand
This mentality puts us in danger
You played with my heart when you could have just stayed a stranger
I’m reaching for the break
I don’t care to be understood
And when the car suddenly stops
You ask, “so are we still good?”
-Celia
My eyes are flooded. It starts in my chest and rises like a wave. The strongest wave of loving grief. I can’t make my heart stop loving. I can’t reset or reboot. It envelops me. The love wasn’t lost. I don’t grieve losing love because mine exists within me. I grieve the loss of something I once thought I understood. I once knew, you.
There is a space you have left in my life. I hadn’t realized how loud the echo in here would be. I’m wounded and perhaps this will always be my loving wound.
4/27/2023
If I don’t speak fear into the room then maybe it isn’t happening. Maybe I get to keep him. I’ve never been ready for these kinds of losses. They’ve always left just as fast as they’ve come. Not him though. I’ve had twelve years of companionship. Twelve years of being loved, cared for, seen, and protected. Why does he have to go? I need him now more than ever. The roles have reversed. I ease his anxiety and fears. I hope to regulate him just as he has for me all these years.
I’m not ready to live with the spaces he will leave in my life and in my heart. It’s selfish to ask him to stay. I know he can’t but man how I wish he could. I would take care of him forever. My King.
4/26/2023
I count the objects in the room. Shapes, shades, and textures.
I’m surrounded by air and I pull for it.
The frequency fills the room.
But it’s louder.
Stronger
I rock, I tap, I rub.
Her screams explode out of me
I implode in shame
Their voices slide down my spine
I drown the noise
A refill- exchange fear for courage?
Just for the moment
I keep a tally of losses
The stripes cover these walls.
Will I ever stop marking the walls?
4/26/2023
Why is the narrative about what men have done to me? My name echoes down the hallway. The intensity comes back with such force it squeezes the air out of my body. I’m flooded. All over again. This isn’t love. I’m on fire. They tie me down and burn me at the stake. My skin parts and I’m exposed.
This isn’t love.
They take me in. Like vultures, I’m worth more dead. Empty, hollow. Piece by piece. They swarm me. Nothings left. Nothing.
4/20/2023
I keep wishing he would have shot me. I’ve had this fantasy for as long as I could remember. It wouldn’t be so bad. It’s never scared me. Death isn’t suffering, living is. I fixate on what it’d be like…. *click*. The yelling stops. It’s not so loud anymore. Least, that’s what I’d hope it’d be. If I’m truly honest, this indifference is a fantasy.
I’m exhausted. I’m told over and over it’s supposed to hurt. It’s supposed to be hard and tiring. I’m not special or any different in my response to this suffering. However, I don’t think this was supposed to be my life. I don’t think shit just went wrong, over and over again. I also think I’m a good liar. Where people find or see the strength in me is beyond me.
I’m exhausted.