Hello my friends. I've been writing a great deal about the CPTSD I experience from abuse by four dark tetrad (narcissistic, bullying, exploitative, cruel) parents. My goal isn't to "out" anyone but rather to find solace for my traumatized, shell-shocked self. If outing their behavior is part of that, well, so be it. Here are surprise things that help heal CPTSD. And note, when I say surprise I guess what I mean is surprisingly simple ways to heal, kind of a gestalt thing you could say.
Getting the most comfortable bed you can find. One of the ways I experienced abuse was in neglect of basic care. I was not provided a bedroom, proper bed or even a pillow for most of my growing up time. There was money for my stepmom to have a king-sized waterbed to herself. All of their other kids had comfortable beds. My mother made sure her boyfriend had an expensive feather pillow. I didn't even have a decent mattress. I was made to co-sleep with babies and children in cramped conditions with no privacy. I've had to share a bed, sleep on the floor, on uncomfortable couches, on camp bunks and on unheated porches, as my primary sleeping place. At 16, my mother and her husband kicked me out of the house and I had to fend for myself. It seemed like I was always cold.
All that has played hell with my back, neck, shoulders, hips etc and on my ability to sleep well. Not to mention causing extreme stress, anxiety and shame. Yes, shame. For being such a terrible person that I didn't even qualify for basic necessities. That's the message they put out. I nightmare all night long. I've gotten used to discomfort and deprivation. But I now know that now that this was neglect and that I don't have to perpetuate the cycle. My husband has convinced me that it's not only okay, but necessary to spend what it takes to make sleep as restful as possible.
Cuddling in warm, soft blankets. Along the same principle as getting a good bed, is having soft, warm bedding. And not just for the bedroom. Our couches have several blankets on them. I keep one wrapped around me most of the time I'm home. These blankets serve two purposes. First, warmth. But also emotional support and a making up to my inner child, for the nurture and care I didn't get as a kid. It's literally my security blanket. Wrapped in a blanket feels a little like getting the hugs and affection that were always withheld. Which brings me to the next point.
Asking for and receiving cuddles, hugs, back rubs and other signs of affection. The only real touch I got was either fake for show, conditional, hurtful or icky and sex-based. Or all of the above. I hated myself for being so ugly and untouchable that even my own parents were disgusted by me. Human touch became something to avoid. I hug others because I think that's what they want and I'm a people pleaser. If left on my own, I'd be fine without it. This doesn't include my kids and grandkids. They get tons of affection from me because they deserve it and because I don't ever want another kid to go through what I went through. Not on my watch. But receiving adult affection has always been difficult for me. Thank God for my husband who has persevered and helped me to be less afraid of being touched. And so now that I'm in a healthy loving relationship, I can risk asking to be touched and not feel quite so dirty. I don't have to ask but it's good practice learning to be okay with myself requesting something. It's still difficult but getting better. And I'm also seeing how incredibly healing good touch is.
Feeding CPTSD. If anyone needs comfort food, it's an adult who's been traumatized by abuse. One of the other things I didn't get enough of were decent meals. At various times, I have stolen food I was so hungry. I have gotten overweight from food deprivation, because my body had to hold on to all the fat it could. I still often feel like I'll never get full. And I still feel guilty for eating too much or spending money on food for myself. Feeding the family, absolutely. But stopping to get a hamburger just for me, is very unfamiliar. Or even just saying, I need to eat now. So I have to practice just doing it. I took myself out for Popeye's the other cause it sounded good. I'm trying to keep a bunch of comforting food around. And by comfort food I don't mean junk food, although I do keep some chocolate around. I mean comforting and warm. I make a lot of soups, stews, casseroles and pasta dishes. I try to make it as healthy as possible but still nourishing.
Blogging. AKA journaling. I don't know who's reading this but I do see that it's getting a fair amount of traction. But I don't write to be read as much as for catharsis. And I while I hope that it helps if you are struggling with anything similar, it's mostly for me, exorcise the demons in my head.
Talking about trauma. Telling my story to trusted people, appropriately and at appropriate times, is incredibly therapeutic. This may or may not include getting a counselor. I'm not sure I'm really sold on counseling unless there is no other person to talk to. Paying someone for compassion just doesn't feel genuine. I'm not faulting anyone. And some of the best insights and most genuine empathy has come from my husband and a couple of dear friends.
Prayer. This one's a little bit loaded. Because the concept of praying has been so misused in so many ways. It's used as a way to one-up and demean (see my earlier post on things people say to appear helpful but which are actually shaming.). The prayer that helps me is just talking to God quietly and privately without making a bid to-do over it. I talk to Him like a friend sitting with me, because He is.
Developing hobbies. Mine are reading mysteries, doing puzzles, cooking, making model airplanes and writing poetry. And talking about them with others. My parents were never interested in anything that I was and made it clear they weren't. They were very self-involved. And they kept me so busy waiting on them that I had no time for hobbies, really. So this is as much about getting out of the habit of just working all the time as it is about the actual hobby. It's retraining myself that down time is healthy that I don't have to be productive every second to be of value.
Making a dedicated effort trust my own judgement and take care of myself. Like right now. I could be out working. The voices in my head are pestering me to, despite the weather being atrocious and dangerous. That's because no one ever cared what conditions I had to work in as long as I got their work done for them. No one cared how the excessive and heavy housework they put on me hurt my back. In fact they went out of their way to make it as difficult as possible. So I got used to ignoring red flags, pain, danger and just kept plowing through in very unsafe situations. Tonight, I'm choosing to pay attention to those red flags, stay in where it's warm, and ignore the voices in my head.
Using phrases like "that's mine, not yours" and "paw off" more often. As a kid, I was not encouraged to consider anything mine. including a home, bedroom, possessions even money. That, they said, was selfish. Stuff that was given to me was sold and money used on themselves. I used to have to clean the entire house but wasn't allowed to consider it mine. I dusted their furniture, ironed their clothes, washed their floors, co-slept with their kids. And didn't even have a corner to do my homework. Gifts were given to me that were actually for the other kids. I caught my mom going through my wallet. And she stole my son's shoes. I've never felt it was right to even say "my house." But I'm starting to do it more often. And I'm not volunteering to be an ATM anymore.
Disobeying. Not doing as I was told (and I was told to do a lot) was tantamount to insurrection. Even if it was not in my best interest and very dangerous to do. Everyone demanded my obedience and service. I was on call 24/7. So now, to get healthier, I need to say no when doing something isn't good for me. Or even if I just don't feel like it. I don't expect others to wait on me, but it won't kill them to, once in awhile. I've waited on them long enough. And I certainly don't have to do that anymore.
Doing what I want, when and where I want to. Even just writing this feels so incredibly selfish which proves how gaslit, shamed and under everyone's thumb I was. Having needs, I was told, was selfish. And wants? Didn't even have them, it was so dangerous. Yet they did exactly what they wanted. So I'm thinking maybe doing what I want might not be the end of the world. Maybe what I want is a good thing.
Getting in the driver's seat. My parents loved telling others off, especially me. They loved ordering others around. But they did not actually do those things themselves. They did the very things they were criticizing others for. And woe to anyone who had the audacity to tell them off. They regularly did unhealthy, unsafe, foolish things to others. Sometimes they went out of their way to endanger when a safer course was actually easier. So I think I'll stop giving them the wheel. I think I'll quit letting them crash me into walls. I think I'll start trusting my good judgement and quit listening their bad.
Finding and using my big girl voice. Whatever crap they put me through, I was expected to just roll with the punches and so I did. I defended and made excuses for them no matter how hurtful was their behavior toward me. And it has destroyed my ability to take care of myself. To this day, the thought of confronting terrifies me. I'm so used to being shamed and blamed. I defer to others when asked things I know perfectly well. So I think it's high time I began speaking up and speaking out.
And that's what this blog has become. I can't and don't want to talk about this with them. It would do no good and tons of harm to me. But I can address it here. And I plan to continue to.
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