Hi friends. I'm digging deeper into CPTSD (complex or childhood post-traumatic stress disorder) that I developed from a lifetime of abuse, neglect, endangerment, abandonment, exploitation, invalidation, bullying, parentification, scapegoating, terrorizing and gaslighting by four narcissistic parents. On top of that, I'm an empath which makes it so much worse. Today I'm going to try to explain how empath plus CPTSD makes me feel. Some of these things might surprise you. There are the usual suspects, fear, anxiety and sadness. But deeper and more core are feelings which are so big they defy naming, though I'll try.
I am an empath, meaning that I don't just feel for others. That's sympathy or pity. I feel WITH them. And unfortunately it's the unpleasant emotions and none of the positive. When they succeed, I admire and applaud by I don't get any satisfaction vicariously. Yet when they struggle, I glom onto that with my whole self. I'm shredded by others' sorrow and have zero detachment skills. But I'm also sensitized to the fact that it's not mine. I don't want to seem to make it about me. Because it's not. But yet it is. I feel their pain more than my own. I feel it as if it is mine.
Deep empathy has this weird ability to lift you outside yourself. You have a prescience that defies explanation. You can see people's minds with crystal clarity. Their hearts are laid bare. You can see things about them that they can't see themselves. You can almost finish their sentences and predict their next moves. And it is a terrifying superpower to have.
You can never really be angry or upset with people because you're so tuned in to why they do things. You feel pity and sorrow for them. But the irony is that you often cannot feel those things for yourself. It's like you're drained dry by feeling with others and have none left for yourself. You are enmeshed with everyone and don't know where, or even if, they end and you begin. You are hard-wired to give and can't stop. The vulnerability and protentional for abuse is unimaginable.
Now, enter the narcissist. They have this unerring ability to sniff out an empath and target them for their own use. If they are your parents, you're screwed. If they're Christian narcissist parents, God help you. Narcs already take too much. When they encounter a chronic over-giver they just roll them into their oversized selves. They exploit your empathy for selfish ends. They thieve your identity. They capitalize on the fact that you pour yourself into others. They manipulate your understanding of God so that you believe that it's Him you serve when it's actually them.
I was raised to serve. I don't remember ever doing anything that wasn't designed to please someone else. I was brainwashed to feel guilty for needing and, God forbid, wanting. I was indoctrinated as a toddler into the cult of mommy and daddy. And then when they got sick of our family, they made shiny new ones that I wasn't apart of but was made to serve also. And I did. And felt guilty for not being able to do enough. As my husband so aptly puts it, I was groomed to this.
I'm only now starting to really unpack all this. For the first 59 years of life, I defended, complied, supplied, excused and affirmed them in all things. I scolded my husband for having the guts to say what they did was wrong. And ironically, I'm still feeling a lot of shame, too much gratitude and not enough anger. Yes I said not enough. Some anger is a healthy response to hurt. None is sick and dysfunctional. It perpetuates the shame.
I was grateful for common things all kids should expect. Which actually I didn't get, as I look back. Things like a bedroom or bed, clothing, food, warmth, a coat, transportation at some points, even a home. I was evicted and homeless at 16. Everything was transactional, except that I didn't get my end of the bargain. I did my part (and others' parts) because "that's what family does." Yet I wasn't family when it came to basic care. I had to earn the things I needed. Things were taken from me and given to their children and new spouses. My mother used my child support to fund her new family. While going to school, I had to work for clothing so her husband could sleep the day away. I was family when it came to getting from me and an outsider when it came to them giving to me. What was expected of me was optional for them.
So what do I feel? Pity. For their pathetic machinations. For their unquenchable greed. For their embarrassing and awkward behavior. For their shallow, self-absorbed lives.
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