Question:
Hello to the ng … I have posted maybe 4-5 times in as many years on this group, but that doesn’t mean I’m not involved. I used to post under the name Daffodil, but decided to change since someone else appears to have that name in real life. This is still the most supportive and helpful ng of the several I’ve read, and the one that handles trolls and flaming the best, so I feel much safer here — like the group’s collective unconscious is protective. I can now acknowledge that *this is very important to me*. ago, I had to become my own protector, because it was clear no one else would be. Of course, having been raised to be a placating, people-pleasing, compliant female sex-object, it took years to realize that protecting myself meant more than just locking my doors at night and being careful who I accepted rides from. I have always regarded the idea of any person or group being protective towards me as a giddy fantasy, born of a profound and long-standing yearning on my part. Growing up in an emotional war-zone (the power struggle between my parents often took the form of competing for the loyalties and love of their two children–me and my brother–and this sometimes amounted to emotional incest, where Mom and Dad are trying to get from their kids the intimacy they can’t get from each other) left me with a type of shell-shock, now known as PTSD. No wonder I had rescue fantasies! Dad was the alcoholic, loud, angry, violent tyrant with the big mood swings, Mom was the manipulative, controlling, martyred and numbed-out co-dependent. No one was safe. I soon learned that being vulnerable was not a good idea; when I attempted to communicate my grief and fear, those feelings were ridiculed and minimized. So I learned to put them where they wouldn’t inconvenience anyone but me, in the form of problems with eating, sleeping, and, later in life, accomplishing anything beyond mere survival. When things got weird and scary enough, I learned to dissociate so my reactions wouldn’t cause me to lose my sanity and my ability to function/survive. This ng is one of the few places I feel safe discussing this stuff. It scares me just to type it out like this and post it anon. It’s almost impossible to talk about it in more than superficial terms with most people I know, esp. because in my case the abuse was mostly invisible and nameless. I can use terms like PTSD and ACOA, but those have become almost meaningless in some circles, and they don’t really describe how it FELT to me when I was little. Perhaps it is appropriate that the protective environment I sense in this newsgroup is also invisible (electronic) and nameless. This was just a very long-winded way of expressing how grateful I am that the ng exists, that there are so many good people connected to it, that I sometimes feel like I’m coming home to the family I never really had when I read the articles here. I’ve learned a lot here, and hope to continue learning from you all. Gypsy Lady
Response:
Hello, Gypsy Lady, Thanks for posting. It is very scary (at least for me). I like the way you write, even when there are no words to describe your feelings or experiences, you still convey the ambiance very well. I hope that you’ll post more often, but lurking is certainly welcome, too. Either way, I’m glad you are here. Take care, e – Hide quoted text — Show quoted text -Hello to the ng … I have posted maybe 4-5 times in as many years on this group, but that doesn’t mean I’m not involved. I used to post under the name Daffodil, but decided to change since someone else appears to have that name in real life. This is still the most supportive and helpful ng of the several I’ve read, and the one that handles trolls and flaming the best, so I feel much safer here — like the group’s collective unconscious is protective. I can now acknowledge that *this is very important to me*. ago, I had to become my own protector, because it was clear no one else would be. Of course, having been raised to be a placating, people-pleasing, compliant female sex-object, it took years to realize that protecting myself meant more than just locking my doors at night and being careful who I accepted rides from. I have always regarded the idea of any person or group being protective towards me as a giddy fantasy, born of a profound and long-standing yearning on my part. Growing up in an emotional war-zone (the power struggle between my parents often took the form of competing for the loyalties and love of their two children–me and my brother–and this sometimes amounted to emotional incest, where Mom and Dad are trying to get from their kids the intimacy they can’t get from each other) left me with a type of shell-shock, now known as PTSD. No wonder I had rescue fantasies! Dad was the alcoholic, loud, angry, violent tyrant with the big mood swings, Mom was the manipulative, controlling, martyred and numbed-out co-dependent. No one was safe. I soon learned that being vulnerable was not a good idea; when I attempted to communicate my grief and fear, those feelings were ridiculed and minimized. So I learned to put them where they wouldn’t inconvenience anyone but me, in the form of problems with eating, sleeping, and, later in life, accomplishing anything beyond mere survival. When things got weird and scary enough, I learned to dissociate so my reactions wouldn’t cause me to lose my sanity and my ability to function/survive. This ng is one of the few places I feel safe discussing this stuff. It scares me just to type it out like this and post it anon. It’s almost impossible to talk about it in more than superficial terms with most people I know, esp. because in my case the abuse was mostly invisible and nameless. I can use terms like PTSD and ACOA, but those have become almost meaningless in some circles, and they don’t really describe how it FELT to me when I was little. Perhaps it is appropriate that the protective environment I sense in this newsgroup is also invisible (electronic) and nameless. This was just a very long-winded way of expressing how grateful I am that the ng exists, that there are so many good people connected to it, that I sometimes feel like I’m coming home to the family I never really had when I read the articles here. I’ve learned a lot here, and hope to continue learning from you all. Gypsy Lady
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