As a kid, birthdays were supposed to be fun. Kids in my class would have parties and invite almost the entire class. I did not get an invitation. I soon learned that I was never going to be invited to a party.
This started the years when I was just quiet and tried as much as I could to be invisible. This continued pretty much through high school and college. I did not make friends and through the years the number of friends that I have I can count on one hand.
This year with COVID, I actually feel normal for the first time. No one is having parties. People are having small dinners and get togethers. For once i I fit into the norm. A small dinner and cake with a few people is just right .
Why does a person need all of these tests if they have any symptoms of an illness??? I really do not want nursing staff asking personal questions and then giving me the look.
We all know that look. How many medications we are taking or how many hospitals we have been in. Then there are the coexisting health issues that each doctor has to double and triple check. Why would I need to make up anything else and why would I want too?
Then there are the questions that they think they know the answers too. Substance use. Again, why? In fact I would get better inpatient treatment if I had that issue!! At least they disscuss the reasons that one has become reliant on self-medication.
By the time the doctor actually comes into the room, they go through a big sigh and make a big deal of sitting down. Don’t they know that I can tell they are not my therapist. I want to talk about the problem that brought me to this person. My psychiatric problems are handled by others, et they insist on asking about personal issues. I have learned to stay quiet. Normally, there is only a 15 minute time slot anyway.
Maybe if you read this, you will be able to laugh the next time at the doctors 🙂
Having complex PTSD is so hard. I feel like every program that I have been is focuses on safety and stabilization. That is where the programs that most insurances pay for end. Now, I am supposed to go home by myself and work with my therapist.
Why are there not support groups for us? There are not enough therapists who understand this diagnosis. The result is that there are not enough treatment centers. All I want is to be with other people who need to learn to express themselves. To have a safe way of processing my story and share other’s experiences of life with this diagnosis.
I just want to be able to feel normal. I want to meet others who share these feelings and experiences.
After 3 kids and getting other issues fixed over time, I went to see a urologist today for the issues that I am having. Things started off well. The normal questions and the normal exams.
Then the doctor came in and talked to me. He left the room and came back saying that he needed to an exam to see where my organs were and if there were issues. Obviously, there are issues or I would not be there!!
Because, of the trauma I have been through, I could not go through with the procedures that he wanted and was sent away. I guess I just have to live with this problem. Why can’t all doctors understand about trauma?
I have one doctor that will use a twilight sedation to make her patients remain comfortable. Here, there is no help. Just a doctor who completely dismissed me. Why after going through so much do I have to constantly battle for understanding and compassion from those in the medical field.
Asking for help in itself is hard for most of us. Asking for help with the symptoms of a mental illness seems impossible. There is the stereotype that still runs through our society that somehow a person with a mental illness is weak or damaged. That they cannot take care of themselves or have chosen to have this. They are just not fighting enough.
Then a person goes to the doctor. For me, I was told that within 3-5 years that I would feel better. It has been 16 years and I still feel as horrible as on day one. Even to get to the right medications took months. Sometimes the side effects would make me feel worse or cause new symptoms to creep in over the first few weeks. Give the medication time the doctor would say. I do no need time when I know that I feel worse.
My body was no longer my own. It began with the medications. Then came the sleep routines, the mediation, the ECT, and with that the memory loss. My brain was now trapped behind a barrier. I was no longer in the drivers seat. Just a passenger in a car that did not have a final destination.
The doctors do not say that your friends will feel so confused about how to treat you, that many of them will politely bow out of the friendship. They do not say that your spouse will be overwhelmed and feel like they are helpless, causing them to leave. If there are kids and the mental illness is severe enough, the system will make sure that you lose them unless you have 10’s of 1,000’s of dollars. Divorce, loss of children, loss of friends, loss of self, and a constant pressure that just gets worse over time because you are expected to be well. Somehow all of these things miss what the doctor says. Reducing symptoms is sometimes not possible and some people are treatment resistant, causing them to live in limbo.
For me, the doctors missed a lot that I wish that I had known. Maybe I could have prepared myself or at least knew the reality of the future that I was facing. B
One night, about 5 months ago, I thought that my son had his music turned up to loudly. I was getting ready to go over to his room, when I realized that he was not there. I figured that it was something outside and I let it go.
The next night, as I was attempting to relax and fall asleep, I heard music again. This has been happening almost every night since. The music changes. It might be classical, 70’s, rock, or even tribal. No matter what kind of music, it is disturbing.
None of my doctors seem to know what to do about this new symptom. Each night it is different. Music , has become my nightly companion,. I just wish that the doctors could tell me more.
Depression and PTSD have taken a part of me away. I am not even sure what that part is anymore. I know that I do not seem to have any energy, I remember the details of my traumas daily, and I struggle with things that others can do easily. I do not leave the house with the exception of therapy.
For some reason there are those that equate depression with sadness. It is so much more than that. It is like someone has completely darkened the space around you and then confined you into an even smaller space.
Cooking, laundry, showering, talking, and many other small things become absolutely earth shattering chores. With PTSD it is hard to hear triggers and try to do anything remotely easy. My cats are my support. As long as I pet them, they still like me. In fact, one of my cat’s is my emotional support animal.
There is not any medicine left to try at this point. I just need to work on my skills and try to do a little at a time. Sometimes it is very little at this point.
When the dust cleared and the agreement was signed, neither parent was supposed to negatively discuss anything about the other parent. The problem is that when one side has a top attorney and the other side does not have the money to afford an attorney, the terms of the agreement tend to get overlooked.
That is what happened to my children. It began with my ex and his mother. They would say that I was faking my mental illness, that I was not giving their father enough money. And even that I did not love them. When my ex married, the comments became worse. My kids were told that they were not from my culture, my daughter’s body was criticized, I was accused of lying and of not being genuine.
Every time that I went into the hospital for treatment of my mental illness there would be a long breaks between visits.‘I had to get letters from all of my doctors stating that I was not a danger to my children. Then I had to be evaluated by an independent doctor. This process could take as long as 10’months.
Now, my kids are teenagers. One does not speak to me and repeats that I am a selfish individual and a liar. That I do not look out for him. My second child visits and ask questions about my illness to tries to gauge the truth. He has also done some research. My third child has begun to move away from me. She is frustrated that I do not always know how I will feel in advance and believes that I am keeping the truth from her.
The state that my divorce was finalized in does not even have a statute for parental alienation. What I have learned over the past 10 years is that parental alienation begins with the adults surrounding the children. The messages become like a broken record. As the child ages, those messages are internalized and become the child’s beliefs. Once that happens it is hard to adjust their thinking.
I believe that every state should have laws regarding parental alienation and try to prevent it from happening in as many cases as possible. It can ruin a relationship between a parent and a child for life. Keeping each from experiencing the love and affection from each other. Life events go by without acknowledgement and soon kids turn into parents and grandparent is kept from their grandchild. More needs to be done!! Parents should not be shut out of a child’s life because of the other parents negative feelings.
This is my first Father’s Day without my dad and I am conflicted. My dad was the person who took me to have surgeries. He was the person to buy me ice cream. As I got older, he was the one who would defend me to my teachers and make sure that I was being treated fairly. We often joked about who would have the last of the custard or bread pudding. When I was in high school, we went to the same junior college. People around us took half of the semester to realize that we were related.
Then there was the other side of my dad. The side that seemed to not be able to reign in his anger. The one who beat me beyond a spanking. He often told me that he could not stand the sight of me and to go to my room. At times he put me up against a door or a wall by my neck. There were other things that he also did when he was angry that made me feel like he hated me and wished that I would just go away.
Then there was the frail man in the hospital bed. The one that was in so much pain that he could not even pay in the same position for a few minutes. At times, I would need to ask the nurses if he could have anything more for the pain. I was there for the last days.
I feel like I should only be preserving the good memories, yet there were both and I feel like my life is flat without both. He was my greatest advocate who also happened to be one of the people who hurt me the most. Luckily, I have my therapist to help me work through all of this because I know that I could not do any of this by myself.
So on this first Father’s Day without him, I gruels that’s I need to begin to accept that he was both. That is the problem with working through childhood abuse. Often the abuser is someone who is also a caregiver. In my case one that I just wanted to please.
Thirteen years ago, I lost my children. My ex had one of the top lawyers in the state and I could barely afford the phone bill. I tried to speak to my kids almost everyday. They were so little, that they did not say much and were often distracted. I hoped that the magical age of 18 would come quickly. The age that they could choose when and how often to stay. The age when it would be their choice instead of a legal document.
My oldest stopped speaking to me 4 years ago. To this day there is no reason given to myself or anyone else. A lot happened over the past few years. He has a girlfriend and went through his senior year. He graduated a few weeks ago. He wants nothing to do with me. As far as he is concerned I do not exist.
This is a disadvantage of being the noncustodial parent. There is not enough time with the children to form a strong bond. Alienating the other parent or turning them into a villain is easy. I wonder if I will ever see or speak to him again.