Lately, intrusive thoughts have bombarded my consciousness, strong negative feelings add to the awkwardness of enduring this onslaught.
At some point, I try to escape, looking for help, looking for any skill that can curb the pain.
I want to scream for help!
At all costs refrain from sharing Ptsd with friends, hide as much as possible, act as normal as possible.
Smile and act like everything is peachy, squash triggers, and act strong, deny you have PTSD.
They will never understand, they will insult your suffering in the end. Normal people need to believe everything can be fixed, repaired like new in their world.
Rain on that parade and they will attack you.
My blog is the one safe place I can share my experience.
Yesterday, I sat in the middle of my trauma, not moving, not trying to avoid or fix it.
I was programmed intentionally by my dad, he wanted his desires to be my desires, it was life and death, he beat me to make sure I understood.
He enjoyed beating me, making me afraid of him, he got a release out of it. Why would you beat me once a week for puking lima beans throughout childhood?
The pressure to perform held all my self-worth, he pounded that into me.
Some things could be worse than death in his eyes.
He demanded I be twice as good as everyone else, all my self-worth he granted me was connected to performance. I did not generate much self-worth on my own in this abusive atmosphere.
No wonder I was good, fear is a great motivator.
I did not understand I was a separate being, autonomous with my desires.
In the beginning, healing was always slow, an amazing amount of time and effort are invested for a small return.
Healing was so subtle I did not notice for months, small improvements were underway.
A trauma event as an adult, brain fully developed, is much different than childhood trauma.
Childhood trauma has a depth, a plethora of unknowns, seemingly unending instances of more abuse.
This creates some big issues.
An adult endures abuse or a horrible accident and develops PTSD. He/She knows what a normal non-traumatized existence feels like.
He/She has a finite, one-off trauma to deal with. Healing is much quicker, much easier with good tools and effort.
His/Her brain is developed and handles trauma much differently than a kid with a brain incapable of handling life.
An abused kid has never experienced a normal life, never known life without emotional or physical abuse.
An abused kid’s brain is altered from that trauma, smaller hippocampus, larger amygdala, and compromised prefrontal cortex.
Our brains are injured and trauma is mixed up with brain development. As an adult, we fail to realize we need in-depth counseling or maybe in-house therapy.
We do not have a basis to understand our life is screwed up.
We have never experienced normal, how do we know what life is like for others.
My friends think I am just crazy, weak, and stuck. They have simple fixes, then question me for not being brave enough or skilled enough to live life as they do.
I wonder how they would have survived my childhood, my dad.
I did not seek help until I was about 60.
We are similar to narcissist, how can we see something wrong with us with nothing to compare it to. Life has always been like this for us, we have not experienced support or attachment or normalcy.
Childhood abuse is a well with no bottom, no end, no hope.
My father was from a family of 15, he was in the middle of that order with a paternal twin. My mother was an only child raised Catholic by two atheist.
Yea that’s a weird match.
Mom got pregnant at 16, had me at 17 and that was the end of their high school education.
I was raised by crazy kids.
Mom was a fanatic with religion, dads only interest besides a weekly bowling league was for me to be Roy Hobbs, from The Natural, the greatest baseball hitter ever.
My parents were out there but found a way to exist, divorce was not recognized by the Catholic Church, my mom was stuck.
Playing baseball was his total interest in me. Oh I had to get good grades, be damn near perfect and have my behavior make him look good at all costs also.
He really never had conversations with me, I either did something to piss him off or it was baseball.
He criticized and lectured, we never had a conversation, ever.
If I brought up an idea about me being something other than a pro ball player, Mom would say God made you to play ball.
I did not talk much, fear and self protection were the emotions used for survival. Why would I ever say something and risk his wrath.
School had knowledge, dialogue but it brought social challenges.
You can understand why I was socially awkward, I was damn near a mute at home.
They controlled who I could have for friends and dad did not allow me to date, in his eyes women were a risk to my baseball career.
If he could of branded me showing ownership, it would of been a big bold tattoo.
Years later I returned home from across the country for some event, they could not believe I was a talkative adult. I was an extrovert, who knew.
And yes I moved as far away as I could.
Some of this was abusive but look at their lives.
My daughter explains my mother’s dilemma, in 1950, unwed and pregnant, her future husband was a violent narcissist.
Maybe it was a life sentence for her.
Who knows.
As an old man, I am lost, life has never had purpose or direction. I do not know how to have purpose or direction.
I try to heal a little more each day but life is hallow and has way to much suffering without a purpose.
Looking back after 70 years on this planet, life is harsh even for kids who had great support and love from their caregivers.
Watching a podcast of NBA star Kareem Abdul-Jabbar, he described his life as an oddity, sticking out being 6’8” at 12 years old. 7’2″ was his height as an adult, how do you blend in or hide, fit into a hotel bed, buy clothes, or fit in a car?
People always stare and treat you like an oddity. He says this kind of scrutiny drives you inside, into your own cocoon.
Life shrinks for people scrutinized as different or abused kids markedly different in behavior than normal kids.
Now, consider being seriously abused as a kid, criticized and beaten by a caregiver. Think we are not an abnormality, an oddity compared to normal kids.
We do not feel equal to others, we know we are flawed and compromised, dysfunctional and isolated.
I am not saying as an adult I believe any of this now, however it was my reality most of my life and dogma as a kid.
If birth is the ultimate lottery, we lost big time.
The impact of abusing a child, lasts a lifetime, I am an example of this. The ACE study documents the physical diseases and early death that childhood abuse causes.
I am not a victim but I have suffered trying to heal from childhood PTSD my entire life. That is a fact.
At 70, my brain is still trying to cope with a smaller hippocampus, larger amygdala and a compromised left prefrontal cortex, Childhood PTSD disrupts nearly everyday with unworthiness and failure.
I have friends who are happy go lucky, think everything will turn out alright. Their demeanor is relaxed and confident, life seems easy and happy for them.
To say I am envious and amazed is an understatement.
Are they from another planet, how can a brain feel safe and secure, being able to trust thoughts, and finally they trust others.
I have never had those feelings and never expect to feel that way, a little bit of wellbeing and peace of mind are my only goals now.
My life is navigating around my trauma minefield, searching for brief moments of joy while dodging trauma thoughts, anxiety and isolation.
Yes, I have felt haunted by childhood demons, this battle has never receded from my life.
Everyone has challenges, some much greater than others. Whoever makes those decisions is way above our pay grade.
This is my mood right now, by noon it will shift, by six another emotion will rule, life is a struggle, it is painful.
It took me 8 years of intense therapy and meditation to calm all my PTSD symptoms. I was not completely healed but life was good for two years.
I meditated five hours a day for five years, went to weekly therapy, read everything on therapy, trauma, meditation, mindfulness and many spiritual or holistic healers..
It was the only two year period of relief in my life.
Now an old trauma ignited my childhood abuse, my PTSD has fired up again.
I thought it was dead, thought I beat it.
Ten years of work, how can it regenerate like this?
I have not given up but I have lost hope of ever healing, now.
Many people have spoken to me, when they had no response for my old trauma, they said bad shit happens.
It’s like that makes it ok or something, many people suffer the rest of their life after bad shit happening.
Always those without childhood abuse say just move on, it is simple, easy for them.
People are clueless and do more harm, friendships end.
I search and find something new, pour my heart into it, get momentary relief, then trauma eats my ass up again.
No matter how much some of us work, healing will likely never happen.
Sometimes hiking I wish I could just keep going deep in the woods, hike right off this damn planet, be free of what people have done to me.
Intrusive thoughts have been the PTSD symptom that has haunted me. This symptoms activates many of the other symptoms we suffer from.
The last few days intrusive thoughts have all but left the building, changing all my focus to functioning in the present moment has alleviated that concern for now.
What a wonderful gift in itself.
No, I am not healed but the mind can be approached in many more ways than I thought.
My first priority was to calm the fight or flight mechanism.
Then all the fun begins fighting to get our lives back.
Many times we are not even close to working on what needs to be integrated.
PTSD is so irrational and confusing at times, we need direction and tools to navigate.
Try my new approach, leave the past alone, focus on this present moment and work on that behavior, our reactions to people and situations.
Intrusive thoughts have a hard time penetrating when we assume this posture.
If something has stopped working, adapt, pivot and try something new.
I have found taking risks with therapy is a must from time to time.
Childhood trauma will not be healed by a therapist, I can assure you of that.
I have done the vast majority of my healing alone.
Take a step back and evaluate your healing path, make changes and reapply maximum effort.
We have tendencies, sensitivities, and habits that are directly connected to our PTSD. For many decades, my PTSD lay dormant and hidden, these tendencies still remained active, influential.
I integrated much of my childhood abuse over an extended period. My triggers lost power and I could go out publicly with an ease never before experienced.
My triggers were connected to things that were related to my trauma, mundane, they happened in public and were accompanied by my fight or flight mechanism not firing, exploding.
The mind can take a saltine cracker, connect it with violent trauma from our past, and make saltine crackers something we avoid out of intense fear.
Our mind could intensely fire our fight or flight mechanism everytime we came into contact with a cracker. We would avoid at all costs if it gets bad enough.
Think someone without PTSD would believe that?
Some of healing is understanding how our mind works, PTSD is inside us not out there, in our mind, heart and body.
Some of my old triggers have regained power, impacting my behavior and quality of life.
How can something I extinguished thoroughly come back to life?
PTSD never leaves us completely, that is my experience.
Think what this looks and sounds like to someone who has never experienced serious PTSD symptoms.
Meditating, focusing on my breath, has let me watch my mind from a distance.
If our mind is a complete stranger we will suffer.
PTSD - A Way Out 