The Dysphoric Nature of Redefining Yourself

Half a century is a long time to live in a state of perpetual survival. When a child’s world is confined to a short list of places filled with memories of, and anticipation of, savagery, the paradigm of a safe place is unrecognizable. In my case, I normalized the impacts until, at age ten, my psyche snapped into self-guardianship. CPTSD built the walls, and a guardian within me stood upon them, ever watchful for the slightest hint of an occasion to retreat or stand tall against the intolerable. Decades later, the question became, “Will the internalized guardian allow me to redefine myself and heal?”

When lifelong soul-crushing challenges can no longer be ignored, the past must be reconciled.

I can think of no better analogy for my endeavor than peeling an onion. With my limited insights, the dried, crusty outer skin gave the false impression that the challenge was only old wounds to be removed and “let go”. Yet each peeled layer exposed a more sensitive, raw layer beneath. Each insight gained from blogs, others’ personal accounts, and clinical studies of how the body keeps the score revealed that what I thought were unique personality traits were actually symptoms and characteristics of those like me. The hypervigilance that exhausted me, the strain on my relationships, and the expectation that anything good that happened to me was a setup by the universe to punish me were only a few of the characteristics I thought were uniquely mine. Often, I didn’t even recognize what was happening because these and other CPTSD traits were me—they had always been me—and I was only beginning to see them clearly.

Like a hermit crab discarding its old protective shell for a new one, vulnerabilities are exposed.

As I sought to uncover traits as symptoms to be expunged, I wondered how different I might have been had I not been forced into a tormented life. Such an exercise is exhausting, and I fought depression as a result. Having peeled away so many layers of myself, I sat in my living room and felt dissociation after concluding that I had lost all sense of myself. I held back tears as I shared with a trusted friend at a social event that I no longer knew who I was. It was terrifying. I spent my whole life being as independent as possible, ever distrustful of anyone else but myself. And now I, too, was a stranger. There is a cold emptiness that accompanies being so lost.

Then came the epiphany.

I was wrong to so flippantly wish to discard anything tied to a traumatic past. Many of those traits have served me well in my chosen career. I struggled to accept certain change. I don’t want to lose the ability to recognize risk and danger in an instant. I don’t want to lose the ability to have a sixth sense of people. I don’t want to lose my hard-won intuition or my desire to stand up for those who are being harmed. I just don’t want to be ruled by them. I don’t want to be harmed by the very traits that rose from the ashes of a child consumed by firestorms of abuse—traits that gave me resiliency against future firestorms and strength against injustice. Albeit traits which came with a very high price.

Before me stands the opportunity to rebuild myself in the image of what I’ve always wanted for myself and my world.

Fortunately for me, building from imagery is one of my strengths. I love to design. I love to build. I find extraordinary fulfillment in home remodeling—tearing out old features of a room, redesigning it, and then rebuilding it on whatever foundation I leave in place. Similarly, I thought, why not draw on these strengths as the approach to healing? The guardian within provides strength and a sense of protection. The architect within drafts the blueprint of the vision of the before and after. I would challenge anyone who has embarked on the journey to healing to use their strengths. As for me, for the first time, I had a positive outlook and a belief that success was achievable because I knew I could count on the strength of the structure worth keeping in place.

The time came to tear down the wall.

Rather than tossing all of the stones that made up the wall, I’m keeping a select few and using them to build a new structure. I had asked others to describe me in the hopes of self-discovery toward redefinition. That was the wrong question. Yes, I was told I’m a loving father, but that is familial. I have a title and a career, but that is a job as a provider.

What can be taken from me is not what defines me. What defines me is the center-most place of my being: a heart with the capacity for love and compassion in-depth, when distrust does not push them to the shallows; real kindness and gentleness that mask the strength of an intently determined protector; intellect that is free to express itself without fear of ridicule; and being a person worthy of joyful blessings without fear of being punished for receiving them.

These are the traits of a person I’d be proud to embrace and share with others.

These are the traits of this man as he aspirationally settles into a newly remodeled structure—the structure of peace.

Photo Credit: Unsplash

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