. Recently, I did an interview about my baseball career. It was for a college project on a 20th-century man. (If that does not make you feel old)
First question: Tell me about your childhood.
That froze me for a long minute. My brain has this well-developed record, that plays my narrative of childhood. I know it is how I perceive my childhood, saved under duress.
How can you share in words the damage this abuse has caused me? It never goes away completely. There is a void inside me, a feeling of not being good enough.
When you are physically and emotionally abused by your caregivers, self-worth never develops. Constant criticism leads to a flawed ego, a feeling of being worthless at our core.
My memory of childhood is sparse, and limited. My ability to hide most of my childhood back then saves me from more anguish.
These images are hard to share, I bluntly state a few incidents without any hint of nuance.
My childhood is recorded as a black-and-white movie, with short snippets of violence and shouting.
So after the interview, I felt vulnerable and exposed.
Abused kids never like to be judged. I have a sense of fear about what he will write.
It’s part of our disorder, PTSD, fear, and worthlessness.
. . Childhood PTSD (complex PTSD): It is how our brains are wired during childhood that makes our thoughts (dissociation) the problem.
From the Complex PTSD workbook: “Dissociation, like all other symptoms of C-PTSD, is a learned behavior that initially helped you cope with a threatening environment. A neglected or abused child will rely upon built-in, biological protection mechanisms for survival to “tune out” threatening experiences. In adulthood, dissociation becomes a well-maintained division between the part of you involved in keeping up with daily tasks of living and the part of you that is holding emotions of fear, shame, or anger.”
My nervous system and emotional regulation are distorted: Childhood abuse fires the fight or flight mechanism, consequently, we store these memories as traumatic.
Traumatic memories or implicit memories are stored in the right amygdala, out of reach consciously.
Our brains are wired to spot danger above all else.
We spend enormous amounts of time spotting danger.
Questions bombard us on how to avoid, face, or deny our perceived danger.
Our self-worth is damaged, and we feel vulnerable and isolated too often.
Emotional regulation is a constant issue.
Our thoughts are a big issue, for me, it is a constant battle to let go and come back to the present.
. It has been a while since I posted. I needed an emotional break.
Recently, while examining my behavior and habits, fear of failure was always under the surface.
Even retired, my fear of failure influences my behavior and emotional state.
I would say many professional athletes compete out of fear of failure.
We feel it’s a trial of worthiness, every challenge, game, or tournament.
If it’s a team sport, we fear letting our teammates down.
In sports, a lack of performance leads to firing, death to who we thought we were. My mother told me God made me to be a professional baseball player. Who can I be now at 71?
Some athletes have considerable difficulty losing their supposed true identity.
Fear of failure is jet fuel for worry.
Self-worth has an enormous influence on every aspect of life.
My work is to be aware of fear’s influence, then adjust letting these emotions release.
The more that I can stay present, the better chance for equanimity.
“Equanimity is steady through vicissitudes, equally close to the things you may like and the things you do not like.” By Sheila Catherine . .
. . My online kundalini teacher passed away yesterday. She was only 51.
There was something special about Jenn, a quality, a fearlessness, and a selfless way of living. I found her meditation group online during covid.
After five years at a zen center, no one resembled her. I sensed a special being, a selfless warrior who placed herself in the middle of others’ trauma without fear for her mental health.
Meticulously I showed up every day trying to understand how she became who she was. Somehow, someway, she elevated her being.
Jenn had a way of making you feel safe. She would make time between appointments to talk to me. I always felt better after our conversations.
Jenn was the purest person, charismatic to a fault that I have ever come across.
She always had a different perspective, outside the box.
Here is an example:
“Pray for yourself to find peace and healing, pray for them to do the same, pray for forgiveness to release yourself and forgiveness to release them. Pray for an opening in your ego to allow the heart to temper it all with love and grace.”
We all feel blessed to have known her and feel a void now that she has passed.
BPD (sometimes called Emotionally Unstable Personality Disorder, or EUPD) is a lifelong mood disorder which can affect how someone thinks, feels, perceives, and relates to others.
People with BPD may struggle with a fear of abandonment, impulsive behaviour, intense emotions and relationships, and an unstable self-image.
Although there’s no single cause, research suggests genetics and brain chemistry may make someone more susceptible to the condition.
BPD often stems from prolonged childhood trauma, which can also increase someone’s chance of developing PTSD. PTSD is a psychological response to a traumatic event (which of course might include childhood events).
The symptoms of PTSD can include flashbacks, depression, anxiety, shame, anger and relationship problems.
Can someone have both BPD and PTSD?
It’s thought that between 25% and 60% of people with BPD also have PTSD. This could be because living with a mood disorder can both increase the risk of experiencing a traumatic situation, and make it more likely that experiencing a traumatic event leads to PTSD.
When someone has both conditions, the symptoms tend to be worse than if they had BPD or PTSD alone.
PTSD can increase the likelihood of dissociative, intrusive and suicidal thoughts in people with BPD.
That’s why it’s so important to get the correct diagnosis.
Making a correct diagnosis for BPD or PTSD
BPD can sometimes be mistaken for PTSD or C-PTSD, and vice-versa.
C-PTSD is a subset of PTSD which is associated with long-term or chronic exposure to trauma – much like BPD.
Both can cause emotional distress, mood swings, flashbacks, anxiety and anger.
It’s thought there are some generalised key differences to look out for, but of course, everybody is different:
Although both conditions can lead to problems maintaining personal relationships, people with BPD tend to fear abandonment, whereas people with C-PTSD may avoid intimacy or relationships altogether because of ‘feeling somehow unlovable or undeserving because of the abuse they endured’.
People with BPD are more likely to self-harm, than people with PTSD or C-PTSD.
‘While both those with BPD and C-PTSD struggle with emotional regulation and often experience outbursts of anger or crying, those with C-PTSD may experience emotional numbing, emptiness, or a detachment from emotions.’
Someone with PTSD may be calmed by going to a familiar environment and being reassured that they are safe. This might irritate someone with BPD, who may respond more positively to being told their feelings are valid.
People with PTSD are more likely to be triggered by a specific external trigger and think and behave rationally outside those triggers.
For people with BPD, the triggers tend to be internal thoughts and feelings, which can be less predictable.
Unfortunately, because of the overlap in symptoms, and because some differences appear similar from the outside, some people with C-PTSD end up being misdiagnosed with BPD, or vice-versa.
Sometimes someone will have both conditions, but only one is picked up.” . .
PTSD - A Way Out.com 
