https://www.pinterest.com/pin/1407443620462331/
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This is my PTSD’s voice, maybe part inner critic, part judging mechanism, he is my flawed narrative (Ego). When PTSD is active my ego feels like this guy.
I am a lost soul, wandering through life, the demons of childhood haunt me, companions for life.
Life from my earliest memories was always coming way too fast for an abused kid to handle.
I had the burden of navigating physical and emotional abuse, a task like surviving in a war zone, my dad, on top of living and functioning at school.
Criticism is a major flaw for me. I know we should not take criticism personally, ever.
My issue stems from never having an early memory without criticism.
Violent criticism was my father’s way of raising me, an everyday regiment of abuse.
Oh, I have struggled with the inner critic my whole existence.
I avoid places that remind me of past criticism or future risk.
That avoidance is seamless, almost involuntary with little thought, my nervous system alerts me.
I force myself, overriding PTSD’s symptoms, to engage in some activities amid these perceived dangers.
We have to balance the risk versus reward in our life.
We want to participate more but we do not want to suffer more.
How do we navigate life like this?
That is our daily dilemma.
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