Done

Is it christmas? Is it the that time of the year where it feels like most of the day it’s dark outside? Or is it just the trigger of that one person coming into my personal space?

I’m hoping it’s all three. Because that would mean the trigger didn’t bring me down as bad as I thought it would.
I can’t even say; back off. I can’t find the words, they’re stuck in my throat. All I can do is stare into the distance and wait. Fade away inside myself, into this emptiness. While a tiny part of me just wishes for some comfort, even if it’s from my mum. For someone to come save me. Get this thing away from me.

But it’s not my place. Not anymore. It can just go around and to its thing. No matter how it feels to me. I mean that’s what’s freedom is about right? It would take ages to write the whole story. Which wouldn’t even matter, because I like to clear my head while writing stuff down, but I’m just too scared that everyone would say it’s all in my head, my fault, that I’m overreacting.

At some point I was sitting and staring yesterday, and he touched the top of my head in a “comforting gesture” (makes me sick to my stomach), and I just kept on feeling his hand on my head, on top of my hair. Even though I knew, his hand wasn’t there anymore. After a while I just had to go rub my head against the wall to get his hand off of it.

This isn’t worth anything.
I’m done.

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Secrecy

Secrecy was a code I practiced for my life. I regret that to this day – Cyntoia Brown

I can really relate to this quote said by that girl, although she was very young.. those words are full of wisdom.

Anyhow. Trauma comes with so much secrecy and at some point I don’t know if I became good at hiding it from others or also good at hiding it from myself. Either way.. I think I’m carrying around a secret. For over a year now. It has nothing to do with trauma! I want to make that really clear. But, it’s bringing me down like hell. For over a year now. I don’t know if I ever even realized it was a secret. Or I don’t even know if secret is the right words. All I know is that nobody, literally nobody knows how much this is torturing me. There are a few people, and by a few, I think I mean 2 (Brandon and a friend of mine) who know that this occupies my mind every now and then… but the joke is, it’s not just every now and then.

I want to get rid of this. But how do I get rid of this, when I don’t ever talk about it?
The reason I’m writing this is I haven’t told anyone because I am SO ashamed of myself. Of this. I couldn’t even admit it to myself. I am very sure people will judge me for it, hell I even judge myself for it! But the shame is very trauma related.. and I know I need Brandon for that. But I don’t want to tell him. It should be simple, living with this pain or just tell someone. I know Brandon doesn’t judge. But I can’t stand this. And I can’t stand telling someone something, or trying to, without knowing the words for it.

It’s all too complicated.
I find myself crying all evening, and not knowing what to do. But I do know the cause. God knows I’ve tried everything. My head feels like a torture device.

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

If you say so

image

I couldn’t find a reason to stay among the living, so I searched for it among the dead.

Today I visited a cemetery. For multiple reasons.
– I wanted to (as stated above) look for a reason to stay.
– I wanted to say I’m sorry to them, for being ungrateful with my life while (probably) most of them didn’t want to die.
– I was looking for a safe place. A place where it’s actually okay to cry.

I think it did me well to go. I saw a lot of touching things, made me cry, cry for them, the people around them. The hurt they must have been feeling or maybe still are feeling.

I sat there on a bench and did some stuff that was hard for me to do, but it felt easier there.

Though it brought me a lot. On my way home, my muscles still were burning in pain. This rock was still smothering my lungs. I still felt this agonizing pain inside. I could barely walk normal. Or even hold my tears.

I’m pretty sure I’ll go back, I just don’t know when yet.

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 yearn for some credit

Hi,

When I look at myself right now and a year ago, a lot has changed. At some point I do feel nothing has changed (I can still feel like shit and stuff… but..).

But, I’ve got to say, I do get out of the house.
A year ago, I had therapy, twice a week.

So my week would be.

Monday – Therapy
Tuesday – Home
Wednesday – Home
Thursday – Therapy
Friday – Home
Saturday – Home
Sunday – home

I Hated the weekends, capital h, and I rarely did something outside.
I did feel like crap and all.

But here and now, my past/current week:

Monday – Met with a friend in the afternoon, later went to a festival with another friend and had some drinks with her, came home about 11 pm
Tuesday – Justy came over and had a nice afternoon/evening with her
Wednesday – Home! (Oh no 😉 )
Thursday – Met with another friend and spend the whole afternoon with her and in the evening I went to work.
Friday – Home. I spent some time with my mum.
Saturday – I’ll go visit my future puppy (I’ll explain later) & will go over to a friend for a sleepover with other girls
Sunday – go back home but meet with another friend in the afternoon.

I see difference…. Don’t you? Besides! The first friend from monday + the friend from thursday where both people I reached out to because I felt I needed some contact.
Even when I feel I have no one to reach out to, I can even go out side and just walk around and it’ll make me feel a little better.

Maybe they’re all small things, but it’s a real big difference to me.

About the sweet little dog. I’m getting a puppy 🙂 she’s real small right now, 5 weeks actually, she’s still with her momma, so I’m just gonna pay a visit. But at the end of May I’m allowed to take her home 😀 .
Then we’ll be a family of four 🙂 with my two cats and me.

That’s me…
Doing pretty ok actually with the oxazepam in me. I’m almost afraid to say it out loud, or even type it. I don’t want to jinx it.. but I’m being stable.. just looking at my life week by week, and it’s ok 🙂

xoxo
Brianna

Immunity problems

Hi,

 

I remember crazyinthecoconut.co.uk writing about immunity and trauma and how it might get affected and it got me thinking.

At this exact moment I’m experiencing flu symptoms, AGAIN. I’ve got a terrible headache, my throat is raw, a running nose, and my muscles hurt all over my body.
Well, a little trip down memory lane people! Body reminders, like flu, are triggers. So I am riding the trigger-rollercoaster right now. And just to make it all a little bit more fun, I have to work in 3 hours!

Of course canceling could be an option, I mean, call in sick. But you know, pussy as I am, I’m just too afraid to do that. What if they won’t believe me? I’m still in my ‘trial period’, even though it’s volunteers work, I really like it there! I don’t want to get send away. So I’ll just have to suck it up, and go do what I have to do.

Realizing that, Brenda starts (well, not starts, she was already whining) freaking out.

I tried stuffing some dinner into myself, which didn’t work. It turned out into me crying all over my dinner and calling my mom (who didn’t answer her phone), right now I’m not crying as loud as I was before, just tears streaming down my face silently.

Honestly? I feel helpless.

Please, NOT AGAIN.

It hasn’t even been a month since I have been sick. This will be the second time in 1 month!

xoxo
Brianna

Balance

Hi,

I’m struggling a lot with finding the balance back in my daily life.
Yesterday I had therapy and a talk with Betty, it was.. weird. Anyhow, I’m exhausted.
I know I can regulate my stuff with sleep a lot.
For instance I am very confused (with time especially, days aren’t logical anymore, I forget a lot, I’m getting more dissociative).  Yesterday after therapy I slept about 4 hours.

This morning I was awake at 9 am. I slept again from about noon till 4 pm and probably will sleep again early. It’s the only way I know I can try to get some balance back.
And to be honest, sleep is also the only way to keep Brenda calm. It’s not that she’s very upset right now, but if she is, I just need to go to bed, stuff security blanket against my mouth and I’ll get calm and fall asleep eventually.

I guess I’m a bit (understatement) bothered that I need this much time to find the balance back. And to be honest… I wish I could get a hug. That someone was there to hug me. To maybe even sleep next to me. That I could fall asleep in someone’s arms. Next to someone’s warmth.

Right now I’m regulating my tiredness on my own. Finding the balance on my own. Which of course is a good thing, but being the dependent one I am, I long for someone to be with me.

xoxo
Brianna

Incomprehension

“I can hear you in a whisper, but you can’t even hear me screaming”
^You know that a ptsd symptom is being alert. That being alert can cause hearing whispers, and noticing the slightest sign from someone, a small change (for instance in someone’s mood).

There is one thing that hurts me terribly deep and actually pierces right through my soul.
It’s the fact that I, or for that matter Brenda, can scream my ass off in pure fear or agony and people still might not understand that I am afraid or in pain.

Misunderstandings – it’s like I’m communicating through a whole other language as opposed to all the other people who live on this planet.
Even you, the person who might be reading this, might not understand me. Yes, this is English and yes that is a common language spoken on planet Earth, but no you do not understand.

Right now I feel I can write a million words on my experience with cptsd and you still will not understand.
The rational/healthy part of me knows that’s not true, for example Abraham, understood. In some twisted way, or stupid wishful thinking, I thought that would be the door open to everyone understanding, or maybe the key to me finally learning the normal way of communicating. Turns out, Abraham was just a person who how to speak several languages, even the ones from a different planet. And realizing that, is a slap in the face.

I want to be understood, I want to be heard. Just as any other person would. Because in the end, we are all human. We all need to be loved. We all need attention > we all need to be heard.
Call me self-centered for focusing on me, but I need to be heard, and I don’t feel heard.
Sure, people listen to me, but they don’t understand me. They nod while I’m talking, they even lie to me and say ‘yeah of course, I understand’ and afterwards it must be done.

When someone said to me ‘I’ll be there for you’ he kind of meant ‘I’ll buy you a lollipop and everything will be better’
But when that person said ‘I’ll be there for you’ all I heard was ‘I want to make the emotional connection with you, support you emotionally, listen to you, make a bond’
To be honest, fuck the lollipop, it won’t make shit better. LISTEN to me. Hug me, BE THERE FOR ME.

In the end, the ironic thing is, I’m probably the only one bothered by this. (I’m not counting the other people with (for instance) ptsd issue’s, but only myself and my environment)
Because the average 21-year-old, would maybe love a lollipop, and maybe it would be better after that.
I’m an outcast for needing the emotional connection. Really feeling the bond of that person with me.

And all the above, the realization of all this, is painful, makes me ache, makes me cry, makes Brenda upset, makes me long for Brandon, makes me long for some form of stability.

Therapy today didn’t go all too well. Think a lot of things might have had an influence, but I think one of them might be that Brandon doesn’t work on Monday and there wasn’t really any other  save person available.

xoxo
Brianna

Edit;
Rational part wants to add something 😉
I realize something has set me off today to be thinking like this. Because frankly I have had a good past few days.
I feel I need to say a few things. This, what I wrote above, is very straight to the point, blunt and full of emotion. Pain, loneliness… and this is what it looks like, how it feels like, what I’m thinking when I’m going through it.
I do think something has triggered me today to be thinking like this, and of course the friend in person, to whom I’m talking to in this blog post (figuratively) is the main situation. So as my tired head is trying to say is that there was this situation of non understanding (trigger) > feelings of pain loneliness > thoughts as you can see above
And I think, the trigger, was a trigger, because not being heard or FEELING like I’m not being heard, is something that really sets me off.