Matt | CPTSDfoundation.org https://cptsdfoundation.org The Foundation for Post-Traumatic Healing and Complex Trauma Research Fri, 01 Nov 2024 12:03:14 +0000 en-US hourly 1 https://wordpress.org/?v=6.9.4 https://cptsdfoundation.org/wp-content/uploads/2018/07/cropped-Daily-Recovery-Support-Globe-iPad-Fav-32x32.png Matt | CPTSDfoundation.org https://cptsdfoundation.org 32 32 How to Ebrace Hope, After the Holidays https://cptsdfoundation.org/2021/12/28/how-to-ebrace-hope-after-the-holidays/ https://cptsdfoundation.org/2021/12/28/how-to-ebrace-hope-after-the-holidays/#respond Tue, 28 Dec 2021 11:05:06 +0000 https://cptsdfoundation.org/?p=238866 It’s no earth-shattering revelation that the holidays are a tough time for so many. For survivors, in particular, all of our emotions are compounded amidst the joyous season that’s supposed to be filled with love, friendship, and hope.

Instead of looking forward to the holidays, with all of its joyous tidings and decorations galore, many of us would rather just forget about the impending cheer and try to treat the entire month of December as any other day. Or, somehow just wish it might pass us by altogether so we can get on with life.

We spend all year just trying to get through each day, one at a time. We try not to look too far ahead because the future may seem bleak. We feel like there is no hope for us to feel better, so why bother trying to look towards a future of contentment and happiness?

Everywhere we look, the entire world seems to be embracing everything we wish that we could but don’t feel worthy of.

We sit here and wonder just how in the world we’ll be able to survive all of the glad tidings and good cheer when we feel so broken and lonely. When you carry the weight of your past on your shoulders every day, not much seems very jolly and bright does it?

Somehow, we manage to make it through. Perhaps we were able to embrace a bit of holiday goodness, just enough to hope after the holidayskeep our happy face somewhat authentic looking. Or, we just barely made it through and can’t wait for the new year, if for no other reason than just get put the current one behind us.

Now, what though, the new year is coming and where are we friends? How do we try to embrace hope after the holidays?

While this time of year does exacerbate depression, anxiety, flashbacks, loneliness, and everything that comes with battling PTSD day in and day out, we are still left with all of those same feelings afterward.

It’s easy to blame the end of each calendar year for so many woes, and with good reason. Let’s not diminish that at all, because those feelings are real. However, we still have to pick up the pieces and keep going.

I don’t have all of the answers, friends. Nobody does. I do have to believe and embrace the following, and I hope that you will do. Otherwise, what are we trying to heal for? Why are we putting ourselves through hell and back now, to overcome the hell we experienced in the past?

  • Every time you wake up each day, that’s a win!
  • Every time you show up for a therapy or coaching session, that’s a win!
  • Every time you go to work, take care of your family or finish your “to do” list, that’s a win!
  • Every time you encourage another fellow survivor in any way, that’s a win!
  • Every time you write a blog post, or personally journal about your day, that’s a win!
  • Every time you do something good for yourself: self-care, get enough sleep, eat healthily, or reward yourself in any way, that’s a win!
  • Every time you find a reason to smile, even a little smile, that’s a win.

I’m as guilty as the next person with finding it difficult to embrace hope at times. Reverting instead to the familiar feeling of shame and despair. I’m not here to say it’s easy, or that I got it all figured out, I’m just here to say that I’m with you friend, and let’s rely on each other.

Let’s figure out this healing thing together; lifting one another up when they need it, and embracing the support offered by others, when we need it.

I encourage you to find your win in the coming year, every single day. Some days there will be multiple wins to celebrate, and other days it might just be one. But a win is a win, and we have to believe we are worth fighting for every day.

The alternative cannot be an option. No matter what hand life has dealt us so far, folding cannot be something that we even consider. I believe in you!

Guest Post Disclaimer: Any and all information shared in this guest blog post is intended for educational and informational purposes only. Nothing in this blog post, nor any content on CPTSDfoundation.org, is a supplement for or supersedes the relationship and direction of your medical or mental health providers. Thoughts, ideas, or opinions expressed by the writer of this guest blog do not necessarily reflect those of CPTSD Foundation. For more information, see our Privacy Policy and Full Disclaimer.

 

]]> https://cptsdfoundation.org/2021/12/28/how-to-ebrace-hope-after-the-holidays/feed/ 0 Dealing with Holiday Stress as Abuse Survivors https://cptsdfoundation.org/2021/11/11/dealing-with-holiday-stress-as-abuse-survivors/ https://cptsdfoundation.org/2021/11/11/dealing-with-holiday-stress-as-abuse-survivors/#respond Thu, 11 Nov 2021 11:05:14 +0000 https://cptsdfoundation.org/?p=238870

Let’s face it, really any day can be stressful for survivors. Random triggers, depression, anxiety, dissociating can simply occur at the drop of a hat. it’s all part of the deal in recovery. So even though there are countless circumstances that can raise the anxiety level, one thing is a guarantee. The holidays are stressful.

Those pesky times when seemingly everyone around you is happy and enjoying life, and we are left with a flood of emotions. It’s all we can do to just put on a semi-happy face and try to not draw too much attention to ourselves.

That’s not to say that sharing our emotions is bad, not at all! However, in public places or around those we deem to be unsafe, sometimes we have to just “suck it up and deal” as best we can.

For me, being around strangers isn’t quite as tough as being around family.

When I’m at a concert, or fireworks, for example, I’m around tons of people who I don’t know and probably will never see again. I can use this as a time to try to have some fun and give my mind and body some much-needed self-care.  At the very least since if I’m among strangers I can just blend in even when I don’t feel like having a good time, and nobody is any the wiser.

I would go as far as to say that I would likely prefer that setting to a family gathering. Perhaps you are that way too if family causes your stress level to jump through the roof like me?

When I’m with family, I feel like I have to put on a happy face and entertain. I feel the need to talk to everyone about everything. “How’s your life going, what are you up to?” “Oh, so-and-so just got a new job, wow that’s great!” “This person might be stopping by; oh it will be nice to talk with them again”.  You know the drill, these are things many of us have felt and still feel today.

What is the real reason we feel this way though? Is it solely that one or more of our family members abused us in some way? Is it that they invalidated us as we grew up, or still to today? Those are definitely valid and I can relate to both.

However, holidays are also stressful because it’s a time when memories come rushing back with a vengeance.  So not only do we have to deal with the excitement surrounding the day and try to do our best to just survive, but we also are dealing with a ton of emotions of what used to be.

For me, holidays and such aren’t just about family issues of abuse (although when it comes to my mother that’s definitely a big part of it).  It’s also a time that I reflect back on what I once had as a husband and father.

I’m still a father; my 3 kids are wonderful, amazing, and just plain awesome!  I love them more than they could ever know.

What I miss though are some of the fun experiences I had when I was married. Somehow even though stressful holidays are a given, I can usually leave each with some positive, lasting memories.

I can remember vividly staying up all night making the stuffing for the turkey on Thanksgiving, and then basting it every hour while it cooked in the wee hours of the night. For me, it’s hard to match the feeling of waking up to the smell of turkey cooking.

What about Christmas morning; the anticipation of knowing the kids were going to wake up and come over to open their gifts. Watching the dogs tear into their Santa bones and running around throwing wrapping paper everywhere.  We would either go somewhere or just make our own Christmas dinner, and in the midst of it all, we always managed to laugh even when things didn’t go as planned. Which was quite often.

Or better yet, finding a way to laugh because you KNOW things are going to go sideways at some point.

Another example is friends and family coming over for a cookout, and then going to go see fireworks.  Even if the day was shot and nobody had a good time, we all just stopped and gazed skyward to watch the flurry of colors and sounds.

Back to reality now,  and days like today just aren’t as fun as they used to be.

Please don’t get me wrong, I still enjoy these times with my kids so much.  I love to see them smile, laugh, and enjoy their time together. Part of me is broken inside though, and those wounds that try to heal just seem to reopen like clockwork.

Holidays are tough for us survivors, there is no doubt. We have every right to feel the way that we do. We were robbed of so many things as children, and maybe still are robbed of those things today.

For those whose abusive situations are still ongoing, it’s a struggle just to get through days like this. You know that inside the facade you may be putting on for everyone is so difficult to pull off. You realize that things are tough right now and it’s all you can do to keep going each day.

No matter what, don’t ever give up!

For those of us where our abuse happened in the past, as children or teenagers, it’s no walk in the park either.  We struggle to live life in the moment, all the while our traumatic past tugs at us as if to say, “hey I’m still here”.

There is an easy fix, no band-aid, no kiss on the boo-boo to make it all better. It takes hard work, determination, and a daily struggle to fight through the pain.

Do I have all the answers and have it all together? Nope! However, I must have faith that one of the benefits of this healing journey I’m on, will be that I’ll have the ability to enjoy the holidays a bit more.

It may never be easy, but it can get easier to manage.  You are validated for how you feel. I’m here on this journey with you.

This post originally appeared on Surviving My Past

Guest Post Disclaimer: Any and all information shared in this guest blog post is intended for educational and informational purposes only. Nothing in this blog post, nor any content on CPTSDfoundation.org, is a supplement for or supersedes the relationship and direction of your medical or mental health providers. Thoughts, ideas, or opinions expressed by the writer of this guest blog do not necessarily reflect those of CPTSD Foundation. For more information, see our Privacy Policy and Full Disclaimer.

]]> https://cptsdfoundation.org/2021/11/11/dealing-with-holiday-stress-as-abuse-survivors/feed/ 0 A Collection of Survivor Poems. https://cptsdfoundation.org/2020/11/13/a-collection-of-survivor-poems/ https://cptsdfoundation.org/2020/11/13/a-collection-of-survivor-poems/#comments Fri, 13 Nov 2020 11:00:00 +0000 https://cptsdfoundation.org/?p=234588

The following is a collection of survivor inspired poems from some of our guest writers here at CPTSD Foundation. We are so grateful for each person who shares their voice using the written word, to help encourage, validate, and inspire every person who is continuing to heal from their past. 

The following poems were created by Kaylene Carter.

I’m Different

I’m different, but that doesn’t make me crazy.

I hurt, but that doesn’t make me weak.

I’m emotional, but that doesn’t make me unstable.

 

Seeing is Believing

I miss the girl I used to be,

before they took it all away from me.

But when I look at you…

I believe.

 

 

Day by Day

Every one of us has problems,

Some are big and some are small.

Every one of us has different ways

To make it through the fall.

When you’re down,

sometimes people try to help.

Your friends all have something to say.

But when it comes right down to it,

You just have to take it day by day.

 

 

The Unexpected Visitor

The doorbell rings.
I look up from my laptop,
Tearing myself away for a moment
From the deadline looming overhead.
My calico kitten runs away from the sound.
She curls up in the windowsill,
Flooded with light,
The sun’s last attempt to mark its territory.

I set my work on the crimson sofa.
I always thought it looked so perfect
Against the brick walls.
The sharp melody resounds
Through my loft once again.

I open the door and it catches my eye,
The same familiar uniform,
An image blurred in my memory
Since the last day my father came to pick me up.
I was only two years old.

“Brown is such a warm color,”
I think, as my eye travels
Towards three letters,
Stitched in cheerful yellow on his shirt.
His shoes are worn,
Stressed,
From long, hard hours on his feet.
His hands, strong and chapped,
Golden brown from overexposure to the sun.

His eyes are wide and sparkling, but tired,
As if they’ve looked into a million faces.
Mine is the last stop he’ll make today.
I sign for my package and thank him, taking one last look at the chocolate pants and collared shirt with socks and shoes to match.

He tips his hat with polite respect,
The old-fashioned kind that I’ve read about in books.
Then he turns and walks away,
His work shoes making a sound all their own.
The sound gets softer,
And fades with each step he takes,
Until finally, he is gone.

I turn and walk back across the cold, tile floor, sitting down in my empty, picture perfect room.

The sun has given up now,
The shadows creep in,
And swallow up all my things with darkness.

.

Face in the Mirror

So many avenues to take,

So many costumes to wear,

So many views I see,

So many people I could be.

 

So many precious things at stake,

So many places I want to be.

Things changing all around me,

But in the mirror, it’s the same face I see.

 

Scars stay constantly with me.

The sense of wonder slowly fades.

I grow weary of these trials.

 

But year after year,

That same familiar smile stays put.

The silliness often spills out.

 

After all the changes, I often stop to see…

If I’ve kept my inner soul intact after all the storms.

 

Hearing My Call

Is there hope for those who take the road less traveled,

Who choose to take a chance?

Others give me advice I don’t want to receive.

I don’t want to hear their stance.

 

I am the one who is chasing my rainbow, no matter how long it might take.

I am the one wishing on a star,

Believing in one lucky break.

I am the one with my life on the line, no future planned out,

No place to call mine.

 

But this couch is soft and I work hard each day.

I hope if I cross my fingers and pray…

That I’ll break my way out of this cage,

That I’ll make my way onto the stage.

 

Then maybe I’ll get your support and respect I just didn’t need after all.

Because I’ll know it was the determination that won and God guiding me Towards my call.

 

Life Takes You on a Journey

 Life takes you on a journey,

And never lets you go.

 

You’re constantly relearning

Everything you think you know.

 

You’re painting a new picture

In every place you go.

 

One day, you’ll take them all out

And admire them.

 

Price Tags

You can’t put a price on beauty,

Because you can’t put a price on someone’s eyes.

 

The very peak of your rise

Just might be the point of your demise.

 

Just because you think she’s lovely

Doesn’t mean you’re not in for a big surprise.

 

You can’t put a price on true love.

Because everything good and perfect

Comes from above.

 

You can’t put a price on music,

Because it resides in a different realm.

It mustn’t be bought, but felt…possessed.

 

Choose carefully what you invest in

As you spend your dough today.

If it doesn’t touch your spirit,

you’re squandering it away.

 

Be careful what you wish for,

You can’t put a price on fame

They get you in the end

And they critique you to shame.

 

Keep your eyes on God

And your feet on the ground, or

You might go up and come crashing down.

 

You can’t put a price on knowledge

It can get you out of everything.

 

And staying true to yourself

Will cost you more than anything…

 

But you’re worth it!

 

Reach

Depressed…downtrodden?

What label do I give this emptiness I feel?

 

As if suddenly, I am stepping back and away from my life,

I see it all clearer now.

 

Pieces are fitting together, yet so many are nowhere to be found.

In these past few moments, I’ve realized how shallow my life is right now, Or perhaps, that life in itself is nothing

But a meaningless, monotonous, vicious cycle.

 

People, places, wealth, fame, darkness, light, headaches, and stress.

You can trust no one.

You don’t even have time to get to know yourself,

Yet you try to find the time to get to know others…

 

But for what?

Hidden intentions, resentments, secrets, and lies,

All the nature of every individual.

 

They destroy trust and hope, and friendship and happiness,

And every false joy or meaning we have in our pathetic existence.

 

People rule the world.
People rule people.

But people are not to be trusted.

 

A whole wide world of countless paths and options

Take shape before our eyes.

 

What do we envision for ourselves?

 

Even those who strive for the capacity to create an ideal environment,

We become content, yet forever discontent

With our daily rituals, habits, and weaknesses.

We become blind and only fulfill the minimum.

But soon, one day…

I will break away.

What is a Day?

What is a day?

Is it simply a way to measure time?

 

Yes, the clock says it’s twenty-four hours long,

But we all know that the numbers, they lie.

Because one day can feel like an eternity.

And the next one you might slip right on by.

 

A day can hold so many surprises.

It hides such twists and turns.

So many of our days are mundane and alike.

But some days we never forget.

Weddings, graduations, the birth of a child.

What about the day you meet the love of your life?

 

These are days you look forward to for years.

And when they arrive, they come and pass

And you’re back to mundane days again.

Why are some days more special than others?

The answer, of course, is they’re not.

 

For a day is just what we make of it.

Each day has potential.

Each day is a gift.

 

It’s all up to you what you do with it.

The following poem was created by Lisa Taylor.

Little Girl Within

It has taken me 43 years to be able to have the strength to write the words I did get out below, it ends abruptly because I could not go any further at that moment, however, I like each of you, am still healing from trauma. I will continue to dig deep and work on a more complete story. It is part of my healing process so just wanted to share it with each of you. You are not alone, I am facing it too. The struggle, the negative voices, and forgiving those that I never received an apology from because I am enough, I am loved, I am still here and I am trying every single day to be better and do better.

Little Girl Within 

It was time to feel it all

Knowing the journey had been ignored far too long

The pit of her stomach-wrenching in angst

Shallow breaths increased

Heart racing

Hands shaking

Her body remembering

In an effort to soothe the anxiety

She focused on her breathing

The pace and depth

The rise and fall of her chest

Inhaling deeply

Slow purposeful release

A mantra melody replaying in her mind

“You are alright right now”

“You are safe in this space”

“Breathe in positivity, exhale negativity”

After a few minutes, a calmness washed over her

Heart, soul, and body

Almost a therapeutic cleansing

It was so intense her eyes welled up with tears

Tears of strength

A mindful release

Her hands now steady

Fingers aggressively tapping on the keys

Aiding in her determination to write the words she couldn’t speak

This time she would dig down deep instead of running

She had paid the price for far too long and would no longer allow that evilness to steal her sanity

She had already escaped death, countless times, so this was possible in her mind

Beloved little girl within you are safe now and stronger than you think

I will protect you just as you have hidden away the memories to shield me

Please tell me what you have seen

Let me help you speak the misery

Shackled to the trauma lost in me

I am ready to remember

It’s my turn to bear the burden of our childhood tragedy

Sifting through the scattered and mangled pieces of reality

Guest Post Disclaimer: Any and all information shared in this guest blog post is intended for educational and informational purposes only. Nothing in this blog post, nor any content on CPTSDfoundation.org, is a supplement for or supersedes the relationship and direction of your medical or mental health providers. Thoughts, ideas, or opinions expressed by the writer of this guest blog do not necessarily reflect those of CPTSD Foundation. For more information, see our Privacy Policy and Full Disclaimer.

]]> https://cptsdfoundation.org/2020/11/13/a-collection-of-survivor-poems/feed/ 1 The Loneliness and Grief of a Traumatized Child https://cptsdfoundation.org/2018/07/24/the-loneliness-and-grief-of-a-traumatized-child/ https://cptsdfoundation.org/2018/07/24/the-loneliness-and-grief-of-a-traumatized-child/#comments Wed, 25 Jul 2018 03:40:53 +0000 https://cptsdfoundation.org/?p=747 Note from the author: There are two sets of people to which this article is targeted; mental health professionals, and adult survivors of childhood trauma. There is an area of childhood trauma that few will write about, the emotions that young children feel when confronted with repeated and severe trauma. The trauma I am speaking of can take many forms, such as living in a war zone or being held captive as a sex slave. My experience with trauma has been in the form of sexual and physical abuse and neglect, so this is the point of view I will be writing from. As I have written in other articles, I live with a condition known as Dissociative Identity Disorder, and as a result, have many aspects of myself who are children. One of my alters is named Katie and she is seven years old. I have been working with this part of myself recently and doing so has made me aware of how a young child would feel when confronted with overwhelming emotions.***To explain, I will need to tell some material that may be triggering. I will be very cautious in how I relate the following information, but please be aware that some of the following statements can be upsetting. ***When I was seven I was subjected to a neurological test known as a pneumoencephalogram. This is where they insert a needle into your spine to shoot a bubble of air up into your brain so that images can be obtained from brain matter. The year was 1967, well before the days of MRI’s, and this procedure was in its infancy. Many children who had it done were left with permanent brain damage or even death. I was fortunate to survive the test, but afterward, when I awakened, I had to be taught how to walk again. I had just been allowed to exit my bed on my own and was in this weakened condition when one of my abusers visited me in the hospital. I do not remember the specifics of what he did, but within half an hour of his leaving, I was found standing on the ledge of the window threatening to jump. We were many stories up, and I would most certainly have died.

What emotions would have driven a seven-year-old girl to do such a desperate thing? I have been thinking about this lately and in relating to Katie, I think I have begun to understand.

A child has very limited resources to draw from when they are experiencing severe neglect and abuse. The very people they should be able to count on to protect and nurture them have betrayed that responsibility, leaving them alone and trying desperately to find ways to cope. In this situation, I was confronted with a circumstance in which I could find no way out. The adults in my life, including the doctors who had begun treating me with Phenobarbital for depression since the age of five, and the teachers at my school, would not or could not hear my silent cries for help. I had behavior problems in school and was dissociating, but the Neurologists and teachers didn’t know what to think of these symptoms. The doctors assumed it was an organic brain disorder, and thus the pneumoencephalogram. I could not just come out and tell my doctors and teachers about the abuse and neglect I was experiencing due to threats and coercions given by the perpetrators.

Also, and it is important to state, I loved my abusers, as counter-intuitive as that seems.

So, that hot summer day in Tennessee, I found myself trapped. My body was too weak to even fantasize about escape and so I decided I wanted to die.

The emotions I have tapped into with Katie, what she was feeling at that moment, are intense.

Trapped. I have used this word before in this article, but the ramifications of what this feels like are horrendous. The only comparison I can give is what it must have felt like to be imprisoned in Auschwitz (in fact, my therapist once used this analogy). The people who survived relate stories of fighting any way they could to remain alive. They would steal, hide, lie, anything to keep going. Some relate feelings of being totally trapped because of the guns and other instruments of torture used by the Nazis. They talk of how they watched others give up and allow themselves to be killed or die. I had been fighting very hard for the seven years of my life, stealing, lying, hiding, but I suddenly found myself in a position where I was out of options. I was totally unable to escape.

Helplessness. There is no one more helpless than a child. Children are totally reliant on the adults in their lives for everything, especially their safety. In this situation, I was unable to run away because I was too ill. The knowledge that even if I had there would have been retaliation later, only amplified my feelings of helplessness. I could not refuse the pneumoencephalogram, I could not refuse the medications, I could not leave the hospital, and I could not get away from the abuse and neglect at home.

Loneliness. Perhaps the most horrendous emotion one can inflict on anyone, especially a child, is loneliness. I could tell no one what was happening to me. I had been warned over and over again by my abusers that to do so would bring about retribution in one or many forms, including their harming someone or something I loved. Perhaps the worse threat of all was that the people I told would not believe me and that I would be in trouble later with my abusers and gain nothing from it. It would be a total waste of time.

Grief. One thing I have been appalled to understand is that I didn’t feel grief over jumping from that window ledge. The grief I experienced was because I felt unloved, used, and unwanted. Can you imagine being seven and feeling those emotions? My god.

Why am I writing this article? I feel it is important for Mental Health Professionals to hear about these experiences with these childhood emotions. Whether you believe in Dissociative Identity Disorder or not does not matter. The realities of the emotional turmoil of a child who is being abused and/or neglected must not be ignored. Medications are not the total answer when it comes to treating children and adult survivors of these situations.

What is needed from you?

Kindness. Never look at a person who is reporting childhood trauma as someone just looking for attention. Perhaps they do need support, but that isn’t all that is going on in their minds. Survivors, like myself, have been told enough they would not be believed. Please don’t reinforce those statements.

Empathy. When a survivor begins to relate to you the horrendous emotions they lived through, it is important to show how it makes you feel. One of the best things my therapist did for me was to weep. She would sit and allow her emotions to show, and in this way, I was able to see that what I had experienced was something to weep over, and that someone else in the world cared. I can’t begin to relate just how moved I was by her tears, and how healing they were for me.

Validation. Telling a child or an adult survivor that you believe them is the most empowering thing a mental health professional can do. Just knowing that someone believed and urged me on toward healthy resolution of my past, gave me the power to help myself. It is a long and hard road for both professional and client, but dedication by both is essential. Validation helps cement the bond that makes a dedication to getting well happen.

Parenting. Although my therapist was not nor could ever be my parent, in many ways she became one. She did not encourage me to cling to her or to develop an unhealthy attachment to her, yet she did allow me to bond with her in a strong way. With this type of relationship, she could teach me the skills I needed to pull myself out of the prison that had been built for me by my abusers. One must be careful with this though, as it is obvious that too much parenting can lead a client to never want to leave therapy, and conversely for the therapist not to want to allow their client to mature. I thank my lucky stars every day that my therapist was not afraid to parent me. She gently and quietly allowed me to make my own mistakes, and never intruded on my private decisions. Yet, she was always there to give her thoughts on a matter when I asked for them.

The second reason I am writing this article is to say to other survivors and their Katie’s, that you are not alone. Many people have faced what you faced and are in recovery. There is hope. It takes a lot of hard work, time and patience but there will be an end to the turmoil you are feeling.

Last night I took Katie into my arms and told her I loved and believed her. I also promised that she would never have to make the horrible decision to destroy herself again. In doing so, I have come to terms with this part of my life. I am now at peace with that event.

You will heal too.

-Shirley Davis, Staff Writer – CPTSD Foundation

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