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When I remember parts of my childhood trauma, it has a crispness and clarity to the colours, sounds and smells like it all happened yesterday. Emotionally it comes in waves. Sometimes the waves are small and I can keep surfing. Other times, they are tidal waves that threaten to crash for weeks on end but usually, these days, just dissipate into a calm normal.
At 46, I’ve learned what these waves are and I've learned how to treat them. I see them, I remember, I ramp up the self-care and most importantly, I accept that they are a part of who I am.
There are 3 key ingredients to my transition from recovery to recovered:
1. Self-care Routine – this must be number one on the daily for me. If I take my vitamins and minerals, exercise, sleep enough, eat right, don’t drink too much, listen to inspirational material, spend time with my hobbies (singing, painting, gardening [oh geez I sound exciting ! hahaha]) I believe I minimise the intensity and frequency of uncomfortable triggering by at LEAST 50%, more like 80% I’d say.
2. Boundaries – that’s boundaries with myself and for other people. I make sure I spend a certain amount of time on my studies, with my daughter (if she lets me – she’s a teenager now), because it is a definable way that I can tick a box saying “you’re doing OK”. Boundaries for other people is more or less for me knowing when and how to say “no” or “how about this?” and letting them own their reaction for my choices, and congratulating myself for making a choice based on my needs and wants (which are still inherently considerate of others) and being proud that I can even know what I want.
3. Lastly, a big one. Bigger than forgiveness, bigger than anything. Letting go of the idea that I could ever be the person I might have been without the abuse.
My abuse started as a tiny baby. There was no “unabused version” of me to draw from. In that way it could have made it easier for me to let go of something that was never really there. I did examine myself and looks at my potential and drive, intelligence and creativity and be angry about how much I COULD have done with that had I not been in bed under the covers, or hiding out.
Realising that the way I was built was special, changed me. I had a bunch of tools, kinks, gifts and impediments unique to me. The unrelenting neurological pathways and the addiction to cortisol, the heightened emotions, no stable short or long term memory, talented and productive one minute, nowhere to be found the next, the desire for nothing but intense conversations, saying I love you too much, my passion for the painful truth; make me an interesting, but not easy person to be around.
How was I going to turn this pile of rusty spare parts and diamonds into a masterpiece?
I have been consciously working on myself as a project since I was 19. With no real identified goal that I could picture, I fumbled along experimenting with religion, drugs, schools of psychology, jobs – all searching for what made me feel real. I didn’t think of it in terms of being authentic but that was exactly the feeling I was looking for. I found glimpses and I followed them, but it never lasted. I went around and around in circles for a long time too. I tried on anger, pity, fear, sadness, disgust but they just seemed to attract all the things I was trying to avoid. Eventually I studied my relationships because they taught me what parts of me needed healing.
The biggest challenge, and this is probably the same for everyone, has been my role as a Mother. Experiencing what it is to love a child so unimaginably deeply and grappling with how anyone could ever let harm befall them. I’ve also had to tussle and brawl with myself in those all too frequent moments of realisation of when I see my own mother in my words and actions. Perpetuating a cycle was never an option for me and my love for my daughter has been the catalyst for my most difficult changes. Learning to forgive myself quickly is good. Trusting my instincts. Getting up when I don’t want to and choosing kindness over anger. These changes have all been really, really hard. My worst nightmare was that she would hate me, but she doesn’t. Now, I am pretty sure I’ve done a good job. She is healthy in every way, self-aware, sets boundaries and she’s ready for the world. She only really needs me to love her, to be authentic, to be a reliable soft place and make sure there is food in the fridge and this I can do.
I’m now in a relationship that I hope sticks. He’s kind, smart, funny and gentle and he seems to love me just the way I am. He’s the first person I’ve told about having CPTSD and I am sure that his acceptance helped me find purpose in all that pain.
Finding that purpose helped me to take another step back from my own experience as an observer. Now when I have flashbacks, or nightmares, or I just feel scared for no logical reason, I wonder “How can I use this experience to help others with CPTSD”. So now, I write blogs, and in January 2020 I’m launching a podcast, YouTube channel and Facebook page dedicated to providing information to people with CPTSD, creating a community with ideas on treatments and hopefully pathways for healing.
Rachel Grant was the first person I found when I started googling CPTSD. She gave me this opportunity to take a brave leap that I hadn’t taken for a while. It has taken me 4 or 5 months to complete this blog and I have had tears in my eyes the whole time. It hasn’t been easy. I want to thank Rachel. Her openness, understanding and acceptance of that first email I sent reaching out; and then her support and encouragement, not only in this blog but as a guest on my podcast.
Every time you cry or scream or be silent - own it and give yourself a high five for being brave. When it doesn’t feel brave, hug yourself for allowing yourself to go deep and be vulnerable (which is also brave by the way)
The bits, gadgets, screws and gizmos, joy, pain, anger and grief that make up who you are can be pulled together and shaped into whatever you like. Just keep on building. And you are definitely not alone.
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