The bags under my eyes are prada

Today I did it. I emailed Brandon. I’m kinda afraid of his reaction. I was very honest. I’m afraid too honest. But a part of me is thinking, how can I be too honest with my therapist? He knows me better than anyone else.

I feel so torn between two parts of me.
The part of me that is real angry and feels like destroying everything “Madness is the gift that has been given to me”

& the part that just desperately wants to stop the pain but doesn’t know how “Don’t tear me down for all I need, make my heart a better place, give me something I can believe”

Actually they both mean the same. Anger does cover up pain. The basic question in my email to Brandon was; how can I stop/survive/handle this pain?

xoxo
Brianna

Being raised by therapists

Hi,

A very tricky part for me is to explain what trauma does to a developing brain. I’m really not good at it. I’m going to try to give it a shot.
The abuse has been in my childhood for as long as I can remember, and experiencing trauma creates a stagnation in emotional development. So basically, as I see it, I do grow up and learn to talk and stuff, but emotionally I was stuck at the age of trauma. (which also explains the big troubles with emotions, children can not deal with emotions > trauma happened to me at a very young age > stagnation > emotional child)

Anyway, what I wanted to talk about or actually write/type… I feel like I am being raised by therapists. I remember getting into a therapy group when I was 16 and leaving at 17, I was there for 13 months and they taught me some few minimal basic stuff. Like when I was feeling something, I really did not know what the word was, that went with the feeling. They learned me, it was disappointment. It took me 13 months to learn the word disappointment with the feeling (and I’m not even talking about mentioning it while I’m feeling it huh 😉 )

It’s all these kind of small things, that therapists are teaching me. And actually I’m going from therapist to therapist, just switching and hopping from one to another. Bonding and breaking the bond.. hop on, op off.. 😉

Today I had my final talk with Betty (which means I will never see her again) and she asked me what I learned in my 18 months at the treatment centre there, the question was referred to the contact between me and my mother. I told her that I learned to apologize for my behaviour to my mother.
It’s a known fact that my mother irritates me sometimes, mostly it relates to my youth and it’s triggering. Which makes me burst and scream at her.
It took me (yep…) 18 months to learn to communicate with her and to tell her later on (when I’m calm again) ‘sorry momma for yelling at you, I was upset because of ……… but I didn’t mean to yell’
They told my mother to tell me what my yelling does with her and how it makes her feel and to accept my apology.
After that, we’re good again.
(Side note; my age is 22)

I also learned that apologizing for my behaviour does not mean apologizing for my feelings, because that’s not necessary. It’s just feeling angry does not give me the right to yell at my mother and I need to take responsibility for my actions. (Wow, they taught me well 😉 )

So, my biological mother and father can’t give me the parenting I need. But I sometimes really feel like I’ve got a lot of mothers (because most of my therapists are women) and a few dads. They do parent me. I just don’t get to keep them. Which is a shame sometimes.

xoxo
Brianna

I didn’t sign up for this!

Hi,

It’s almost  6 am. I am sitting on the couch typing this, and I am actually ready to go to therapy. However, I am still tired.
First of all, I didn’t go for the legal advice yesterday, I figured I’m just too tired.

But.. the reason why I’m writing, I had a nightmare. (Which isn’t weird when you suffer from ptsd but..) I am going back and forth between ‘adult’ thinking ‘ah well.. sucks..’ (< to be continued though) and child thinking ‘what the hell? what about this medication I’m taking against nightmares? I want to ring the psychiatrist right now!’

This child part of me is really upset and indignant.
It wasn’t just any nightmare to be honest. It was a nightmare like I had when I was little. The same characters (a witch, a leopard, a spider).  Now that I’m awake I don’t recall knowing the people, but in my dream I knew the people who I was with. But they just didn’t care about me.
Now this might be triggering. The point is, the same thing happened. The witch chased me away (in my childhood dream she chased me away from my house) from this weird big-ass home. Which made me flee, I decided to jump into the water, which magically made me invisible for the which, but unfortunately, as usual, there was the leopard (the witch ALWAYS chased me away, INTO the arms of the leopard?!) and he was petrified underwater, but I just knew, if I looked at him too long, he’d wake up (the leopard always did abusive stuff to me and I knew this in my dream). So I kept on swimming, I felt like I was drowning, no air, still terrified. And I did this weird thing with my legs to wake my body up.

And then I woke up thinking ‘what the hell just happened?’
Although the environment in the dream was totally different every symbol in it, was exactly the same as my childhood nightmares.

So, back to the ‘adult’ thinking, although I’m doubting if I can even call it adult thinking. How am I ever gonna sleep again right?
My head is like; how about never?
But right now I’m already dog tired. So I got a plan.
Tonight! I will take my crisis medication it will knock me out into a dreamless sleep.
Thursday a friend will come over and stay the night (hurray for me, because he will be my security blanket for the night)

However! Thursday the psychiatrist is mine. No seriously, I’m calling him. And I want to up the dose of my topomax. I am scared to death of nightmares.

xoxo
Brianna

Recovery; where am I?

Hi,

The last few days have been pretty good actually! I was quite busy but in a good way. Meeting up with people and just socializing 🙂 felt real good!

Today I talked to Justy (who I met up with yesterday as well!) about therapy and something Brandon and I are ‘argue-ing’ about sometimes.
And it gave me some insights, well, she gave me some insights.

The conversation with Brandon sort of goes like this. (btw, remember me wanting my topomax from the pharmacy, because it helps against nightmare’s?)

Brandon; You need to take responsibility for your life
Me; No! This life is not my responsibility. I’ll accept my past and move on from here, see what I can do with the things that are left.
Brandon; Your nightmares are your responsibility.
Me; No, I don’t like that word. I’ll accept them, but they’re not my responsibility, I didn’t choose them.
Brandon; Whose responsibility are they then? The women from the pharmacy?
Me; Well… they’re OUR responsibility

Justy immediately said he was testing me. I asked her, testing me for what?…… Testing me on how far along I probably am in coming to terms with my past. I don’t think it’s a secret that I can be stubborn. Especially not on this blog 😉 At this moment, I refuse to call my past, and the things I’m stuck with, my responsiblity. But as I was talking with Justy about this, I felt and just knew it was a matter of time before I would be able to replace the word accept to responsiblity.

I do think refusing to take responsibility is a little ‘childish’ of me, and not in a particularly negative way. It just seems to me that I’m not ready yet to accept that it’s really true what happened. And it really can’t be changed, by no-one. I really can’t get my childhood back. I really won’t get a father and a mother, the way I want to. I really won’t be able to turn back time, or be able to erase the memories. 

But untill then, I seem to cover it up with ‘acceptance’, untill I am ready to take the acceptance blanket off. I already know what’s lying underneath. It’s responsibility.

xoxo
Brianna

A full day with PTSD

Hi,

Yesterday was a real long day for me. I guess fora lot of people it can be seen as a normal day, but to me it was exhausting.
It started out with therapy, and afterwards I had an introduction at my volunteer work.

Therapy was rough. Wednesday always seems to get to me. I wanted to take it slow because I knew, I had to spread my energy up until 10 pm at least, because then I am able to go home (from the volunteers work).

Lately, I have been having good night’s rest. I do sleep well, no nightmares, but I don’t sleep long. I used to have a lot of trouble falling a sleep, I don’t anymore. But I wake up incredibly early, and then I can’t fall asleep anymore.
Creative therapy was quite ok, but I got tired after already.
Grouptherapy, was heavy. I got a laugh-kick with another group member, which maybe was me laughing away some tension, I don’t know.
Lunch –
Training in social kills was intense as well. A lot of practise and just took a lot of energy. (We practice with setting boundaries, and making sure other people can’t cross them, due to trauma in the past (it was boundary crossing) it’s hard to know where you boundaries are etc)

After that a individual talk with Brandon, but I already noticed my body was shocking sometimes. I don’t even know what that really means, I do know I’m full of tension. It’s really ridiculous and I am ashamed of it, but it just shocks. We cut the talk short.

When I was in the taxi on my way home, I already felt the whole day being too much. I was either about to cry (in the taxi, yup) or about to dissociate (felt myself floating away). I remember how a part of me was telling myself to keep focussing on the things around me but another part of me was so scared it was just petrified and didn’t want to move or even look or focus on the stuff around.
Somehow I managed the way home. With some encouragement of Justy I got into bed for a short time, with my security blanket, in total Brenda mode (crying, feeling unsafe), I crawled under the blankets, stuffed the security blanket against my mouth and kinda fell asleep.

My mum came to my house to take me to the volunteers work for the first time. When I woke up I felt a lot better, back to Brianna-mode. I was very scared of meeting the new people and stuff, but I knew I wanted to do this because it was a great opportunity.

Let’s just say it was intense. It started at 7 pm. I did my very best. I was smiling, introducing myself. Using my voice. Coming of normal (hopefully 😉 ). But despite that, I felt a lot of derealization. I did feel myself, a bit weird though, but the whole environment was just a big haze. I kept on pushing myself through the whole evening, which was exhausting. Suddenly about 20 other people came. And again, smiling, introducing myself in front of the whole group. After that there was a sort of gathering for all the people and of course it’s normal to stay. Although I desperately wanted to go home, I did stay.

I stood with my back against the wall and watched the other people while fighting the derealization, suddenly a girl came up to me to introduce herself personally. Of course I had to take the chance again and focus with all my head on what she was saying, smiling, coming of normal. Another guy came… and they were playing tablefootbal, the girl asked me to join. I didn’t want to! But I knew… this was my chance, so I did. I joined (lost with another guy 😉 ) but it was fun. After that, another girl came and introduced herself to me. Again a lot of focussing and to be honest I was ready to drop down on the floor.
It sounds intense, but this ‘all’ happened in 60 minutes, I asked the girl ‘when are we allowed to leave?’ (probably not very smart of me, but ok) she said ‘oh youre welcome to leave anytime you want!’ and I told her I had a long day, but I wanted to be here to meet everyone, but I thought it might be time for me to go home. Said goodbye to her and went. (10.40 pm)

When I got outside, it was raining. Didn’t care. I just walked in the rain. Which was lovely!!! No coat, the cold wind, the rain.. my mum picked me up from the bus station.

Just a full day with PTSD 😉

xoxo
Brianna

Seroquel/Quetiapine – My caretaker

Hi,

Obsessive as I am, or maybe it’s a little bit nicer to say ‘observing’ as I am ( 😉 ), I think I know why I tend to take my crisis medication (which is seroquel XR (also known as quetiapine)) sometimes and sometimes I really DON’T want it, although I can feel really horrible.

I’ve talked about me (Brianna) and the other me part, who is like a child part of me (Brenda). Well.. I think, and to be clear, this is what I think, that when I’m mainly thinking like Brianna, I will not take my crisis medication. Because I want to deal with this on my own. I don’t want to numb out, I don’t want the medication to knock me out into a sleep (which it does), I want do this on my own. Even if it means me losing something (like, self harm or something like that).

When I’m thinking more like Brenda, I long for the medication. The medication is my ‘mother’ who takes care of me. Who calms me down. Who puts me to bed and makes sure, everything will be ok for now.

Brenda-thinking only happens when I’m very triggered. Like saturday with the police, it was absolutely no problem to take the crisis medication.
However, before the police came, I was feeling like shit and suicidal as well… But there wasn’t a part of me thinking about taking the medication, I wanted to take care of this on my own! I don’t want to be knocked out! It doesn’t solve a thing! I get angry at people telling me ‘go get your seroquel’….. like; NO. That’s easy, because I’ll be off your back for a while. But the problem will still be here when I wake up.

But when I’m in a total Brenda modus.. Seroquel? Yes please!!!! *happy face*

Seroquel is the caretaker, for Brenda.
But definitely NOT for me.

Right now (today) I’m doing pretty ok actually. I’m keeping myself busy with working on my poem book (I’m making a book of my poems, and decorating each page with something! It’s distracting and calms me down. So I guess it’s a win-win!)

xoxo
Brianna

Cause and effect

Hi,

I see where they get the ‘stress’ from post traumatic STRESS disorder 😉
It’s very simple, without blaming anyone, because I really don’t neither him nor myself, it’s a simple cause and effect.

Cause; feeling unsafe (trigger). Losing control in my save place (police entered my house). Triggers to a past situation which was very intense, a situation that still troubles me to this day, even though it was 6 years ago (involved a crisis intervention and people coming to my house without me knowing, and trying to take me away (only thing is, they succeeded)).

Effect; I don’t feel save anymore. I am very alert.

People ask me how I’m doing? I’m ok. I truly am. Am I suicidal? No, honestly , I’m not. Am I depressed? Nope, I’m no depressed either.

I am busy.

With what?

Busy with watching everything around me. My house isn’t my save place anymore. I am scared in my own livingroom. I have to be alert 24/7. I don’t have time to focus or even to take a minute and think about how I am feeling. NO, no time left. Got to stay alert.

Of course the word ‘okay’ as in ‘being okay’  can be discussed, but I am not suicidal nor depressed. Nor do I feel the need to act harmful to myself. I am 100% focussed on my environment.

Is this the best situation? No, probably not. But right now, the best way to get through my sunday.

xoxo
Brianna

No police for me please

Hi,

I think it’s save to say I haven’t been in the best place lately.
I was talking to my friend Saturday morning about how I was feeling. To me, it was nothing new. Nothing weird, I didn’t say anything different. Or suspicious. Nothing I might not have said the day before for instance. Of course, I talked to him about how miserable I was feeling, and how I didn’t really see how it could get any better, and to be frank; how I wanted to die.
But to be honest? I said that to him Friday aswell.

Suddenly he didn’t answer anymore. Although I could see he had been online since then (Whatsapp). Well ok, I figured he didn’t want to talk about it anymore. I was a little hurt but I can understand it can be a burden to talk about heavy stuff like that. So I just let it go.

50 minutes later the doorbell rang.. I opened and TADAA, the police.

‘Somebody phoned us, saying they were worried about you’

Well just to paint a picture. My heart as racing, I was beyond scared. Brenda SCREAMED terror in my head ‘ABRAHAM!!’, I couldn’t stop shaking, I couldn’t even talk to the police. I just politely gave them my hand as a ‘Hi my name is……’ except, I couldn’t even say that. They asked me if they were allowed to come in. I couldn’t answer, all I could do was shake, and tears escaped from my eyes. I could notice one of them looking around and the other one focussing on my face (and my arm which is full of scars + a few fresh cuts). I was standing there in my pyjama’s, which means a tank top, and a short boxer pants. They were two huge men in uniform. Right in front of me. Very intimidating.

‘Can we go further?’
Brianna was still shaking and crying.
‘We’ll just go to the living room?’
Brianna was still shaking and looked at the living room.

I can’t even describe it. I know I texted my mum; Police is here. Get here now. < That I could do! Wow.
They started to ask me all kinds of questions. A part of me was still being smart, although Brenda was screaming, I knew… they’d put me in a cell if they take me.

One of the cops was real hard and not nice at all, he was very intimidating and scary to be honest. The other one was friendly actually, but unfortunately he didn’t say much. He did try to squeeze a sentence in when the other one was being so harsh and made me cry bad.

It all turned out ok.
My mum came, they left. I was ‘ok enough to not be taken away. I was not a danger to myself and/or others’.

But then I collapsed. I started crying like crazy. Shaking like crazy. I actually cried to my mum straight in her face saying ‘I need Abraham, mummy’.
I was sitting on the couch, she put a blanket over me and got me glass of water and my crisis medication.

Now, the day after…. I slept good thanks to the medication.
My house does not feel save. It’s like the police men are still sitting on the couch. Watching my every move. I don’t know what else to say except; my house isn’t save anymore right now.

xoxo
Brianna

‘Not ready yet’

Hi,

Last thursday I had a talk with Brandon (and Polly came with). One thing that really lingered around in my head was that he said that it was a good thing for me to pick up my school work and study, and try to keep the past as it is. (something like that) And later in life, process it.

I didn’t really go into it, but it sure did shock me. What do you mean? Aren’t I ready yet? Have you given up on me? I’m going to be stuck with this stupid trauma for more years now?! How can I study with this head of mine?
As now I am having a little bit more  peace in my head, the thinking came up about this. (+ a lot of other things)

I really agree someone has to be ready. But I really wish someone would sit me down and explain to me clearly WHY he or she things I’m not ready yet. And there’d be no 45 minute time limit, just explain untill I fully understand. Give examples.

I do think I’ve grown a lot in the last year, I went from passive to more aggressive actually. You should see me in public now though, I’m either scared or ready to fight. Standing up for myself, not dealing with bullshit someone’s giving to me. Not afraid of telling them. I’m not someone who will shut up for your pleasure. Done that a long time, no more.
I’m a little concerned about this though, I do want to be self-assertive, but not in a aggressive way. I’m afraid with all the anger in me, it might explode.

On the other hand, I see how I can’t really communicate. Though I’ve been describing above how I can be very straight forward about stuff (an example was in a store, a woman was nagging to a man about me (While I was standing in front of her) that I jumped the queue, which I thought was ridiculous. So I just told her that I thought she was talking with her friend (2 metres from the queue) and just passed them and stepped in line. No need to bash me)
But another example is me not getting what I feel I want/need. Like my pills, or safety. And my way of easily communicating is screaming (Brenda/childish like). Well, it’s totally not an adult way of communicating, but it does (to be honest) explain what goes on in my head. It literally comes out. Fear/anger/frustration/panick/sad/pain, it all comes out in a scream.

To be honest, I don’t think Betty or Brandon appreciate me doing so much research on myself, so I’ve been holding all this inside and not telling them. But I’m getting quite sick of it. Because we may be wasting time on stuff right now, while I may have sorted things out. They may disagree with me, but that’s ok. We can talk about it then. But nooooooooooo, gotta let go of my past. Well sure, but can you tell my head that?

Sure there are a lot of things still very hard for me. I can’t even describe the flashbacks I’m seeing. The things I remember. I can’t even use the Dutch word for abuse. I just can’t get that out of my mouth. Brandon isn’t even allowed to look at me while I vaguely describe things sometimes. He isn’t allowed to call some people abusers.
I guess my head is still in a lot of denial.

Anyway, I guess what I’m feeling is frustration.
Right now the only possible way of dealing feels like throwing in a few oxazepam and numbing myself out (btw, I noticed, whenever I mention medication in my posts, I get a TON of spam!! Last time, I had 931 spam comments, in a week! All add’s (full of virus probably) on how to get medication)

xoxo
Brianna

Brianna & Brenda

Hi,

With every thing happening it seems it’s becoming more clear how my adult, rational part is deciding (me, Brianna). But also how the childpart of me still wants attention and needs help (with everything) and is stuck in her place due to the trauma (Brenda).

Yesterday I went to another city in Holland which is a big deal for me because I have had social anxiety issue’s in the past. I got on the train and was very nervous.
When I actually arrived at my destination, I didn’t know that station very well, it’s being rebuilt etc, I got into a little panick situation.

There were A LOT of people traveling and just going back and forth from platforms and just trying to make their own destinations. I was standing on the side, trying to calm myself down. But to be honest, I felt like Simba (you know, from the Lion king, when all those animals came down at him?). They were like a herd, rushing my way. Brenda panicked like crazy. Of course, there is not really any time to take account for personal space, but even when there was enough metres left, people kept brushing up against me. Against my back. I felt so intimidated.
Brenda was screaming in my head, yelling for safety. I was texting with my mother. Everytime the ‘herd’ was reducing, suddenly, it increased again. All I could think of was ‘oh God, not again, how am I gonna survive this?!’ The tears were knocking behind my eyeballs to come out, but I refused. I couldn’t start crying in the middle of the train station?!

I felt really alone, Brenda screaming. Unsafe. ‘Far away’ from home. I couldn’t think clearly.
Unfortunately, I couldn’t handle it and burst into tears.

I have talked about tendency’s earlier, (tendency’s like, not knowing how to say how I’m feeling, but only knowing what to do, like stamping my feet, or just sitting on the ground and waiting for someone to pick me up)
Well, another lovely tendency came up. I thought, or maybe Brenda thought, if I just go lie down on the track/railroad, the railway police will come and pick me up and get me somewhere save. (It’s crazy right?! And me, Brianna, knew somewhere far in my head, that save place was a cell, because they’ll think I’m suicidal and lock me up there) but I was so fixated on someone getting me out of there, because I can’t do anything myself.

Magically, the herd stopped, or the train left with the herd in it. And I found a train home, called up my mum to pick me up from the train station in my own city. I made it as save as possible. When I got into the train, I sat next to the train driver’s booth (as that felt as the safest place).

I ended up having a great day, I met with Justy (whom I met here on wordpress 🙂 ! ) and luckily I tend to label the whole day as it ended, so my Saturday was amazing.

But sometimes I do worry, what if I give in to the ‘helpless-Brenda-thoughts’?
Like the last blogpost about the topomax, I did end up going to the emergency pharmacy, but my mum wouldn’t let me go in. She knew when I got in, I might end up screaming my head off till I got my medicine. Which is just not an adult way of communicating. But me (in a Brenda-way) trying to communicate my frustrations of not having my medication and being afraid (terrified) of going into the night/weekend without etc. But they would just not accept that, which is logical, because after all there is an adult woman standing in front of them.
xoxo
Brianna