Question:
I have PTSD due to childhood traumas (many types) and spousal abuse in first marriage (8 yrs duration). I’m now forty and have been ‘processing’ blocked memories for almost two years, but especially in past year. How I survived was to store the memories, including parts of self, in honeycomb like cells, sealing them over and refusing to look back. My brain seems to have a timetable of its own, releasing information and experiences a group at a time. Before such a release, I go into a depression (this has been the pattern), then there will be a trigger causing this flood of events, memories, memories of emotions, smells, sights, everything…overwhelming. Then there is the process of ‘telling’, something I never did as a child or young adult. It is absolutely imperative that I ‘tell’ someone immediately, and during the weeks to follow as my mind unfolds about this time in my life, I ‘tell’ my therapist, my friends, my husband. I put the pieces into place. Before this cell leaking, all I had were tiny puzzle pieces that never seemed to fit. The only time I would return to those traumas was during a blackout while drunk (I’m a recovering alcoholic). My friends would tell me the incredible stories and sobbing, wailing, etc. that I’d do while drunk…I could never remember, but what they said made sense, however my mind would refuse to go back there, afraid of what I’d see or feel. My sense of self felt ‘truncated’, not whole, before the processing of my memories. Though the processing itself is so draining (I once slept 36 hours after a major breakthrough), each time I recover those times, I am stronger. The latest memory flood was about my ex-husband, and I was terrified to even imagine what I’d find. Yes, it was as horrible as it could be, but my forty year old self could somehow integrate or recoup my 17 year old self (the age I married the monster). I hadn’t split myself off…I just walled ‘me’ up along with the memories. This meant I’d lose ground, things I’d learned, things I could do or accomplish…love felt, anguish suffered, all of it…gone into the place I kept my trauma. The most frustrating times are when the trauma was so difficult that to keep myself sane, I’d even split the emotion from the circumstance. There have been times when I’d recall and experience the emotional memory not knowing where it belonged until later. Very hard to process things like that. You see, I couldn’t live with the whole of my experience…all of it together, back then, was too much for me to survive. Now, when life is fairly stable, I suppose my brain thought it was time to go back, to bring back, and just to ‘be’. There have been times where I’m floating, nothing trying to creep out…but I knew and waited, because before too long, it would be time again…to remember. I take these memories, walled up before, and look at them…bring them into me, the me I am now, and then they are stored in places easily retrievable if I so wish (which I really don’t because what’s the point), but I like having access to the good parts, too. There were good parts, but they had to go into the black hole along with the bad stuff. Remembering who I am, what I like, what I was like, how I lived and loved and dreamed…is a wonderful, blessed thing! There are a few things left in me to process, I know this, sense it…but most is out, most is me, again…and the feeling is so pleasing and peaceful, so strong…so whole. I am not glad for the suffering, but I am so glad for the strength. My brain saved me. I am alive, whereas most others who went through what I have are either dead by their own hands or at the mercy of others. The statistics were against me, but somehow, I survived…I am HERE! …and ‘now’ is a good place to ‘be’. Thank you for listening. Bonita
Response:
Hi Bonita, thanks for your effort to write this here, i just found this group and posted "a bit" a couple of days ago and recognize some stuff from your story. It has always seemed i was alone, sounds stupid huh, as i wrote before it really didn’t touch me whatever happened to other people, still not really does. One way or the other i always had a thing for the underdog, maybe that was a "feeling"? Reading your story makes me realize there is a solution and, unfortunately, i realize now it’s gonna be a long way, a hard way but there’s gotta be an exit somewhere. I just want to feel like you do now, leave it all behind, deal with the pain and anger and……so many feelings to proces. It’s like this other "me" is knocking louder and louder from within these wall but just can’t get out, no matter how i try it can’t, it just won’t happen…i feel so much love and emotions just trying to get out…but i can’t make it happen. There’s something blocking me to be me, the real me…..it saddens me so much but i don’t have a solution. I can remember some things but just a bit, it stops there, that’s it, i am not sure what happened, did something happen?? WHY can’t i remember??? The few things i remember make me feel ashamed, how can i tell anybody this??? I can’t…it’s not normal but my psych says it’s not my fault…..i’m not gonna be a victim. Like you i can’t remember the good times…there must have been good times, right? It’s all gone, trying to go back in memory only triggers so much pain and sadness, i can’t even cry so much pain is "engulfing" me, it scares the hell out of me. Please tell more about the way you handled this, i have never read or heard these stories, your story is an inspiration for me, though it makes me feel real bad at the same time, i can’t explain, it’s like I should be at that point now, I should be happy like you and say, hey, life is good! I did have some good times but i always screwed things up one way or the other, never realized the things i had, it never really got to me…i didn’t let it get close enough to start caring. Now? Now i start to feel the pain of missing out on all these things, for 30 years it has been confining me inside a little box, never letting my guards down, always afraid of what could happen…and off course did happen. Now the feeling of worthlesness is coming back, the feeling of being so small and insignificant, humiliated, used and abused. I have some sort of memory to never, never, never ever tell somebody what happened, but what is there to tell??? That’s the last thing i remember, the first thing…………i can’t see a connection now but it’s been in my mind all these years, i can’t forget it, it’s too ugly too think about though…….i just don’t know, it’s all blurred, blocked, gone? Sometimes i read about victims becoming just the people doing the things that happened to them, it scares me because i feel this could easily happen to me, i feel a lot of anger, pain, frustration but it’s way beyond that, i feel ashamed i could even imagine the things i imagine, it’s real bad. You don’t have to reply, i justed wanted to get this out, maybe no one will read this, i can read it again and hopefully get on with my therapy, get on with my life. Thanks for listening. "Bonita" <NOSPAMsheffie…@home.com> wrote in message
news:A8g05.1217$vp3.107600@news1.rdc2.tx.home.com… – Hide quoted text — Show quoted text -> I have PTSD due to childhood traumas (many types) and spousal abuse in first > marriage (8 yrs duration). I’m now forty and have been ‘processing’ blocked > memories for almost two years, but especially in past year. > How I survived was to store the memories, including parts of self, in > honeycomb like cells, sealing them over and refusing to look back. My brain > seems to have a timetable of its own, releasing information and experiences > a group at a time. Before such a release, I go into a depression (this has > been the pattern), then there will be a trigger causing this flood of > events, memories, memories of emotions, smells, sights, > everything…overwhelming. Then there is the process of ‘telling’, > something I never did as a child or young adult. It is absolutely > imperative that I ‘tell’ someone immediately, and during the weeks to follow > as my mind unfolds about this time in my life, I ‘tell’ my therapist, my > friends, my husband. I put the pieces into place. > Before this cell leaking, all I had were tiny puzzle pieces that never > seemed to fit. The only time I would return to those traumas was during a > blackout while drunk (I’m a recovering alcoholic). My friends would tell me > the incredible stories and sobbing, wailing, etc. that I’d do while > drunk…I could never remember, but what they said made sense, however my > mind would refuse to go back there, afraid of what I’d see or feel. > My sense of self felt ‘truncated’, not whole, before the processing of my > memories. Though the processing itself is so draining (I once slept 36 > hours after a major breakthrough), each time I recover those times, I am > stronger. The latest memory flood was about my ex-husband, and I was > terrified to even imagine what I’d find. Yes, it was as horrible as it > could be, but my forty year old self could somehow integrate or recoup my 17 > year old self (the age I married the monster). I hadn’t split myself > off…I just walled ‘me’ up along with the memories. This meant I’d lose > ground, things I’d learned, things I could do or accomplish…love felt, > anguish suffered, all of it…gone into the place I kept my trauma. > The most frustrating times are when the trauma was so difficult that to keep > myself sane, I’d even split the emotion from the circumstance. There have > been times when I’d recall and experience the emotional memory not knowing > where it belonged until later. Very hard to process things like that. > You see, I couldn’t live with the whole of my experience…all of it > together, back then, was too much for me to survive. Now, when life is > fairly stable, I suppose my brain thought it was time to go back, to bring > back, and just to ‘be’. There have been times where I’m floating, nothing > trying to creep out…but I knew and waited, because before too long, it > would be time again…to remember. I take these memories, walled up before, > and look at them…bring them into me, the me I am now, and then they are > stored in places easily retrievable if I so wish (which I really don’t > because what’s the point), but I like having access to the good parts, too. > There were good parts, but they had to go into the black hole along with the > bad stuff. Remembering who I am, what I like, what I was like, how I lived > and loved and dreamed…is a wonderful, blessed thing! > There are a few things left in me to process, I know this, sense it…but > most is out, most is me, again…and the feeling is so pleasing and > peaceful, so strong…so whole. I am not glad for the suffering, but I am > so glad for the strength. My brain saved me. I am alive, whereas most > others who went through what I have are either dead by their own hands or at > the mercy of others. The statistics were against me, but somehow, I > survived…I am HERE! …and ‘now’ is a good place to ‘be’. > Thank you for listening. > Bonita
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