Posts Tagged ‘Ego’

PTSD: It is what we do, it is how we survive, this daily dedication to improve.

Normal kids have attachments and some positive events in childhood.

They grow up with enough support and approval to form a positive ego. How much is enough, I have no idea?



That forms a foundation, experiences to reference when times get tough.

Abused kids have a big void where trust and safety blossom.

Abused kids never felt safe, physically or emotionally.

Our challenge: Find a way to navigate life with little trust and big voids.

Life has always happened too fast for me. As a child, I was always wrong, always a burden, always behind.

My thoughts were about surviving my father not going to the prom or being popular.

Yes, I wanted approval, but that took a backseat to dad.

Complex PTSD never heals completely, we will deal with varying degrees of activation for the rest of our lives.

Actions: I am starting to limit the impact of certain traumas, and a small shift has occurred.

Maybe it is from a decade of intense work or I am exhausted and old.

We do our daily work without negligible results for long periods, hoping improvement is on the way.



It is what we do, it is how we survive, this daily dedication to improve.



I am trying to heal, I have not given up, and I am proud of myself.

Distorted Time

Yesterday was a tough day.

PTSD feels like distress, time is distorted, and nerves are frayed.

It is not geographical, we can not run from it, it is attached to us.

PTSD overrides all other cognitive functions, life stops, it is called survival mode.

The war is inside my head.

This war occupies enormous amounts of time, the chance to be happy never gets enough time or energy.

PTSD: My daily challenges

Parts of every day are filled with trauma memories and depressive thoughts.

Resentment and shame overflow my soul, and unworthiness permeates my being.

This daily battle is the price I pay to stay alive.

Distrust grows when PTSD brings these strong feelings of unworthiness.

I am both ashamed and afraid of these destructive thoughts that enter my consciousness.

A separate entity lives inside kids who were abused.

I battle this demon.

How would you live this life?

Remember I have a decade of intense effort trying to heal using therapists, reading, and meditating.

PTSD: stuck on the same Tune!

Rudid96 opines:

“It seems like I’ve been stuck on the same radio station for most of my life. The same tunes keep popping up, only the volume changes.”


My two cents: Childhood trauma is intertwined with our brain development.

It’s hidden in the crevices, I know, he sneaks out when he fancies.

PTSD is like a vine that wraps around a tree, damn near impossible to separate the two.

Do they merge in places, embed inside each other a certain depth?

From my viewpoint, separating PTSD and my brain are impossible.

I have only known abuse from my earliest memories, so my brain knows nothing but PTSDs presence.

At one time I tried to escape PTSD, hid in my garage, alone in the dark.

There was no escape, Childhood trauma followed me, a permanent companion.

It is my sirens song, the perceived danger, and unworthiness.

Does anyone share my emotions and symptoms?

PTSD: hiding from the danger

I have turned down 100s of invites because my PTSD was active.

We create a plethora of excuses or tell a close friend the truth.

This is one of the reasons relationships are difficult, we have a second life no one understands.

Our friends do not have an avoidance symptom, in fact, they desire contact inside a group.

We part ways behaviorally with normal people in a drastic way around avoidance.

Remember avoidance is connected to all those intrusive thoughts.

Intrusive thoughts carry our perceived danger, our fear, and our heightened nervous system.

Avoidance has enjoyed many different intensities in the last decade.

For six months I was agoraphobic, unable to leave the house, hiding in my garage during the day, praying for dark and the end of another day.

No matter where I go, my subconscious evaluates its perceived danger, sort of a battle plan.

Always have an exit plan, a safe way to avoid danger.

Sometimes knowing I can escape settles me down.

I avoid being trapped in any situation.

It feels so real inside my head and body.

Cognitively I know all this crap is a mirage, unfortunately knowing heals little.

Healing is a path with many pitfalls.

The alternative is a hopeless, helpless existence full of suffering.

Our healing carves out what pleasure we earn on this journey.



PTSD: How do we handle making mistakes?

I made a mistake yesterday on this blog.

While answering a response, trying to give a compliment, I did the opposite.

Hearing the word on the radio a few days earlier I thought it was an intelligent way of complimenting ones prose.

Now, I find out, what it means, to speak in a pompous or dogmatic manner:

Instead of complimenting, I insulted a loyal viewer with the word Pontificate.

This started my PTSD brain dissociating:

Why didn’t I look up the definition?

All those negative sirens about unworthiness chime in.

We beat ourselves up after we mess up.

Subconsciously I still seek perfection and suffer when I fail.

Failure is a conduit to suffering for me.

Why do we beat ourselves up when we mess up?

Another habit I have become aware of.

It all stems from childhood abuse and the formation of an unworthy self (”I”).

Our Inner Condition

Matthew Ricard from “Happiness”



“We willingly spend a dozen years in school, then go on to college or professional training for several more; we work out at the gym to stay healthy;

we spend a lot of time enhancing our comfort, our wealth, and our social status.

We put a great deal into all this, and yet we do so little to improve the inner condition that determines the very quality of our lives.

What strange hesitancy, fear, or apathy stops us from looking within ourselves, from trying to grasp the true essence of joy and sadness, desire and hatred?”

Fear of the unknown prevails, and the courage to explore that inner world fails at the frontier of our mind.
My two cents: What an ominous phrase, at the frontier of our mind. That means our mind is massive.

Talking with my grandson’s soccer and baseball coach, he said confidence, the attitude of the mind means everything even at 9.

Can we have a good attitude living with PTSD?

Our mental attitude means everything when dealing with PTSD.

What does your scoreboard look like, time of day with good versus bad attitude?


PTSD: Avoidance

The question is not if we avoid, but how much.

I avoided the most when my fight or flight mechanism was firing 10 plus times a day.

My agoraphobia lasted six months, it left me scarred, afraid, and lost.

Meditation and exposure therapy helped me past agoraphobia.

It was a great victory however it was painful and I suffered.

Childhood abuse (Complex PTSD) wires the brain differently, mine searched for danger, then fired my fight or flight mechanism for protection.

Remember that shuts down some of the executive branch, our prefrontal cortex.

Triggered, we sense a near-lethal threat, the prefrontal cortex is confused and partially offline.

Our whole being shifts to surviving, we are scared to death.

Thinking is confused as cortisol and adrenaline flood our system.

Forget trying to explain this to others, you have to experience an out-of-control nervous system, the severity, and FEAR produced.

My PTSD and avoidance have matured.

Now, I navigate life a little better but do not even think about going to social functions, crowds, or certain events.

If I have to go to a function, I can block out and distract myself to limit the damage.

Normal people do not understand how much energy and pain we go through preparing to face our PTSD Triggers.

Then there are all the questions and exploration of the interaction afterward.

Our mind wants to judge, and prepare for the next time we venture into dangerous waters.

Childhood abuse brings a danger that never leaves our brain, it is like a big stain ruining the whole carpet.

How does avoidance impact your life?

PTSD: Failure is Subjective

My father raised me to fear failure and demanded perfection, a regular narcissistic behavior.

He told me I needed to be twice as good as everyone else, it was not a suggestion.

It was hard to fit in, to make friends when I was tasked with destroying them.

He wanted me to be separate, and isolated to strengthen his influence.

I was a thing to my father, a tool to make him look good.

Lacking empathy, he enforced his doctrine with violence and criticism, the whole experience was abusive.

Most of my desires in life were connected to this pursuit. Failure would trigger me, fear of failure impacted my behavior and nervous system

I would do almost anything to not fail.

This was true at 10, at 25 and now at 70. It has survived untouched for six decades.


The drive to be perfect, a success, dominated a frantic childhood, then followed me into baseball and adult life.

Survivors of serious abuse live a life without direction, it is a dysfunctional and confusing existence.

At 30 I felt like a failure after graduating college and playing 6 years of pro baseball.

The only explanation is Complex PTSD?

Normal kids acted differently than me when I entered school.

“Buddhas Brain”: the Self

“Thoughts, feelings, images, and so on exist as patterns of information represented by patterns of neural structure and activity.

In the same way, the various aspects of the apparent self—and the intimate and powerful experience of being a self—exist as patterns in the mind and brain.

The question is not whether those patterns exist.

The key questions are: What is their nature? And does that which those patterns seem to stand for—an “I” who is the unified, ongoing owner of experiences and agent of actions—truly exist?



Or is self like a unicorn, a mythical being whose representations exist but who is actually.”

My two cents: Follow any thought, the concept of “I” back to its source and you will find a mirage.

We create “I” from our childhood, what we think of ourselves combined with how the world treats us, then we roll it all together and call it “Marty” or “I”.

“I” is a creation, a magical being we invent for identity.

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