Deep Fear of Trust

 I've decided to start going through the symptoms of Complex Post Traumatic Stress Disorder and how they present for me -- because I think it is important. Not only for me, but for others too. It isn't normal to feel these things, but there needs to be more open and transparent conversation about it because it is really lonely sometimes and can honestly make you feel like you  just might be crazy.

But you aren't crazy.

You're just hurting.

So the first one I am going to talk about is a deep fear of trust. 

When trauma is ongoing -- so growing up in an abusive household -- your brain gets rewired for distrust and fear -- so you are always kind of in survival mode. Fight or flight. Your brain actually adjusts to having high levels of cortisol (stress hormone) so you're always kind of on edge waiting for what is going to happen next. And when you can't trust significant people in your life -- i.e. caregivers -- who are to model behavior and relationships for you to mimic basically -- it makes it very difficult to trust anyone.

Hello Anxiety!

So for me -- my memories go way back -- probably as early as 4 and 5 -- to insecure situations.

My dad's moods were ALL OVER THE PLACE. One minute he would be playing and happy and fine and the next he was screaming and throwing things and just being volatile. 

But as soon as his outburst was over -- he'd take us out to dinner or the movies or to the park or whatever.

And you NEVER knew what was going to set him off or how escalated it would get. 

How can you trust any situation when no situation has ever been predictable? And how can you trust people that are also unpredictable? Especially when your little and they are supposed to be taking care of you, not scaring you.

And when I got older -- it was all about placating -- my mom called it "playing along" or "playing the game" -- you know he won't understand and he needs to be right so even when he is wrong, say he is right -- even if he hurts your feelings -- pretend that he doesn't.  You know you're right, smart, capable, not a bitch, not stupid, etc -- so just hold on to that.

So now -- 30 years later -- I still don't really trust people AND I feel like crap about myself because we internalize it. 

I don't trust people's intentions. I don't trust them when they are being nice. I don't trust how they feel about me. 

None of it. 

Which goes back to what I said previously on missing out on true connection with others. Even my husband. And sometimes my kids. Which is depressing. And I get so frustrated with myself.

But I literally can't help it. 

And I have to retrain myself to be able to trust without ever really knowing what it was in the first place.

And if the SMALLEST thing happens to break my trust that I attempt to build -- it is really hard for me to figure out what to do with that and to be perfectly honest it wrecks me emotionally.

It's really, really hard. And exhausting.

But if you look at the why -- it makes sense.

The Problem Is...

 Well, there are a lot of problems when you're dealing with C-PTSD, Anxiety, and Depression...

But to start, a reflection back to my last post about abandonment and self isolation...

The problem with when you feel like everyone is going to abandon you or has abandoned you, and then you end up isolating because you feel like your a burden -- is that you still feel like people have abandoned you even when you're causing it yourself.

I know. It doesn't even make sense when you try to write it out and explain it.

Fear of abandonment and lack of self worth almost means that you go ahead and just help people abandon you. And then you're sad that you're lonely. But then you're worried about trying to connect because you feel like you are too much or will say the wrong thing. 

And I am aware that I am doing it -- but I can't find love for myself enough to stop. And even beyond that -- I'm really scared of being hurt or not accepted. 

If I share too much, will it scare people away? Will people think I am the victim? Will they roll their eyes? Will they tell me I am dramatic? What if I don't focus enough on trying to help THEM? What if I don't listen enough? What if I say the wrong thing? What if I am too honest? What if I am not honest enough? What if I just go with something that is being said because I don't want to stir the pot? What if I stir the pot too much? What if people don't feel like I care about them if I talk about myself? Should I talk about myself at all? What do people think about me really? Are they just being nice?

There are probably a million more questions that go through my head but those are the biggest ones, at least when I actually try to focus in. 

It's really hard to trust anyone when you couldn't always trust the people that raised you.

And when you don't let yourself trust people, you miss out on the potential for connection.

So even people I have known for years, I don't feel like I can necessarily really truly talk to them or even try to connect with them anymore.

And it isn't their fault.

And it isn't my fault, really.

I am scared to do it, if I am perfectly honest. 

And it comes from a really deep place of pain and some really deep scars.

And I am so aware that it can sound kinda dumb.

And I am not at a place where I am over it and ready to test it out completely.

Someone in group therapy last week said that in a book she read one of the passages said something like -- there are already people out there that love you and you don't even know it yet.

And I think there are also people out there that probably love me too but I won't really let them.

Because I don't really love myself always or give myself enough grace sometimes. I just nitpick and get angry at myself for not being perfect and handling everything perfectly always.

Healing process to be continued....

Oh The Drama

I can't tell you how long I have felt that I am an overly dramatic person. 

My therapist even told me this week -- almost every time you go to talk about your feelings, you start with "I know I sound dramatic; or this probably sounds dramatic; or I know I am being dramatic."

Her response was -- Jackie, from what I am hearing, you're not being dramatic -- you're having feelings and your feelings are very valid and you are human.

To be perfectly honest, I met that with an eye roll, like okay but basically I'm paying you to tell me I'm not crazy so mmmk 👍 (Truly not what therapy is, but I hardly trust anyone, so from that perspective, it makes sense)

But I'm on this really intense healing journey so after I eye roll, I try to be introspective.

Is it possible that I am not crazy? Is it possible that I am just feeling things that are valid to me?

I very easily feel left out. The bigger word for that is abandoned. The bigger word feels dramatic to me. It feels gross actually. So I will immediately tell myself -- why on Earth do you feel abandoned? No one ever left you alone for days at a time as a kid or something. Knock it off you overdramatic psycho.

I am a professional at minimizing my own feelings.

If I let myself look deeper, it's because somehow, I have internalized that if I feel left out or excluded from something, I immediately feel like it is because I am not good enough. There must be something wrong with me. I must have done something horrible to be left out. I must be actually the worst. Maybe I'm not a good person. Maybe I said the wrong thing. Maybe this. Maybe that. And then I am left feeling awful about myself. 

I have genuinely thought in the past that people get together and say "Let's tell Jackie she's a good person and she's funny and kind, even though she isn't, but she's so fragile, if we don't, she'll self implode" I've thought that about my friends and my family, because how could they possibly actually love me for me or even like me for that matter, when I feel so very inadequate.

I am extremely aware of how messed up that is -- and yet -- my brain will go there sometimes. It isn't realistic in any realm.

All of that thinking leads to me feeling like a burden -- and who the heck wants to be close to someone who is a burden? I feel guilty for having been at my lowest with people because I didn't know what to do with my feelings. Sometimes they came out as tears. Sometimes they came out as anger. Sometimes I just overinvested myself in other people's problems so I didn't have to think about mine, since I didn't know what to do with my feelings. 

So, internally, I decide -- well then, I'm just not going to talk about my feelings or problems with anyone anymore because no one wants to know or cares (it's super extremist thinking that is for absolutely certain not self pity, because I think it can sound like that, it is actually being overly considerate of others at the detriment of yourself)

So what does that lead to? Isolation and feeling lonely. I, by no means, feel sorry for myself while I am doing this by the way -- I literally feel like I am sparing other people of my "drama", so I deserve to be alone. I just feel sad that I am too much, and if I wasn't too much, then I could have connections with people. But I am. So I can't.

Where does all of this come from?

Well -- that's a good question. 

As far back as I can go in my memories, I never felt good enough. I had to care for a mother with complicated health issues, sometimes alone, as early as 5 years old. I had a very mentally ill father for as long as I can remember that didn't necessarily feel as though he needed to be responsible for me in the way that an adult parent should. And he was pretty abusive and manipulative because of those things. There's a lot to unpack there, but I don't want to go into anymore detail at the moment. I had a lot of responsibilities that I for sure wasn't going to be able to handle as a child, and it became the overarching theme of my life called "You're not good enough and never will be" -- and it was unrealistic for me to BE good enough at these things to begin with. I was a kid.

I glossed over this stuff for a very long time. With "yeah but" and "at least ____________ didn't happen". But none of it was okay. 

There was so very much that was not okay. Even beyond the moments where I just didn't feel good enough.

The last thing I want to believe about myself is that I am an overdramatic and negative person.

But the fact of the matter is, I am just really sad. And a lot of things happened to make me feel that way. And I don't always know what to do with my feelings because I was never given safe space for them. 

Somewhere underneath all of this junk, at my very core, I do think I am a good person and have a kind heart -- and I try to my best to live that out in so many ways.

But other days, it's really hard to believe it and not just thinking I am delusional in feeling good about myself. 

It sucks sometimes. Positively hurts.

But this is the path to healing.

The Mess of A Journey

Today I let myself cry for everything that happened.

For what it really was. 

Without trying to give excuses to behavior and actions. 

Without feeling like I was being dramatic. 

I cried for the pain. I cried for the grief. I cried for real. 

I cried for all of the times that I tried to tell myself "at least"

I didn't try to be perfect. But I did feel insecure in my tears.

Because for years I have tried to cover a wall of ugly wall paper with pretty things and distracting things and lots of things in general to try to forget the wallpaper exists. Or to at least try to act like the wallpaper doesn't mean as much as it feels like it does sometimes.

But it still peeks through.

Healing hurts. And it is a mess.

But it is hopeful. 

Soon new wallpaper will go up -- on a different wall -- in a different place and I won't feel like I need to cover anything anymore.

Time To Cocoon

When caterpillars cocoon themselves to turn into butterflies -- they do not simply sleep and wake up with wings. They have to dissolve into literal goo and rebuild themselves.

I am in the goo stage.

I've told people I am great. I've told people that I am happier than I have ever been. I have been told to concentrate on the good. I have been told to be thankful for what I have and the strength I have gotten from what I have been through and experienced.

I am thankful. For my husband. For my beautiful and crazy children.

And I am utterly sad. 

I am not hopeless. I am not miserable. 

But I am full of grief. 

Grief for my parents. Grief for who they never were. Grief for my children not having the grandparents that I wanted them to have. Grief for what I feel like my parents took from me. Grief for the little girl that had to grow up too soon and had too many expectations thrust upon her. Grief for myself feeling never good enough for anyone. Grief for the friends that I feel abandoned by. Grief for my childhood home. Grief for my family not really being as close to me as I thought they were. Grief for the fact that neither of my parents loved themselves enough to want anything better for themselves or for each other. Grief for their unhappiness. Grief for the hurt I may have caused others. Grief for the secrets. Grief for the abuse. Grief for the life I could have had sooner if I wouldn't have been so completely absorbed in their toxicity. Grief for the fact that sometimes I don't miss them and that makes me feel guilty as hell. Grief for everyone else that I have dearly loved and lost. Grief for jobs. Grief for normalcy. Grief. Grief. Grief.

Some of it is legitimate. Some of it is what my brain has made me think of my own worth over time.

It is true the more you say a word, the weirder it sounds. Grief makes people so very uncomfortable. Our culture handles it TERRIBLY. 

"Remember the good times"

"They're in a better place"

"Time heals all"

"Everything happens for a reason"

"At least ________"

"Try to look at the positives"

It is messy. It is painful. It is sorrow.

I can't even deal with my grief sometimes because of how much gaslighting I experienced growing up. Maybe I shouldn't feel this way. Maybe I am thinking of it wrong. Maybe it wasn't that bad. Maybe I really wasn't ever good enough for anyone.

The common theme of my life and the theme that has made itself all the more apparent the more trauma therapy I go through. I was never good enough. And then my brain applies that to all things. I guess I am not good enough to be invited somewhere. I am not a good enough mother. I am not a good enough wife. I am not a good enough friend. I am not a good enough person. 

In the depths of sadness (that I don't let myself wallow in for too long) I do not feel good enough for anyone or anything.

Right now, I am in EMDR intensives and group therapy for differentiation. And tonight, someone said in group that they just want to be 80 years old and happy with themselves and feel proud of themselves before they die.

And that is when I lost it. 

Both of my parents died at 51. Two and a half years apart. Neither one of them was slightly happy with themselves. 

"My mom died unexpectedly and I really think it was because of how much stress my abusive father caused her. I got to be her emotional punching bag in the last few years because if she talked back to my dad they way she projected everything on me, he would hurt her or threaten to hurt himself. Then my dad decides he can't be alone and abandons his family for a girlfriend. I don't talk to him for 2 years and find out that he died. Alone. And no one found him for 3 weeks. And I don't have time for any of their crap to take up any more of my life and keep me from who I am supposed to be. I don't have time for it and it hurts so much. I've been through too much to do this to myself anymore."

I've been crying on and off since my group ended this evening. I am lonely. I am sad. I am broken. I am goo. I overcommit with the best intention. I am really good at being high functioning nearly every day and pretending everything is okay. I get upset with myself for not doing enough and not being enough pretty much constantly.

But maybe...it's time to let myself be goo. I spend far too much time on trying to be perfect and not enough time letting myself feel things so that I can rebuild and heal.

I share this because *I* need to. I don't care if nobody else cares about what I am going through. If you can't handle my mess, then my mess isn't for you, and that is okay! I need to look back eventually to say "Oh  man, that gooey place was awful to sit in...but oh look at what you built with it. Remember where you were? Remember how lost you felt? Remember how lonely it could be? How good does it feel to not be goo, but to be strong and beautiful now and to believe in yourself on the other side? How good does it feel to be you?"

But right now, it positively sucks. And it hurts. Deeply. Being heartbroken and trying to put your best face forward, faking it until you feel it, does not work. It can't.

But goo. Goo is workable. Goo is hopeful. Even though it feels positively disgusting and uncomfortable. It won't all be for nothing. It can't be. 

My children will know better than I did. Momma is healing herself for herself and becoming who she was supposed to be and that creates something so much better for them. 

Generational curses be damned. 

I think I am ready to let myself cocoon and try not be so much for everyone else and be goo for me and rebuild something better that lasts forever.

30 Before 30

And with that I'm 29. It's weird because 29 means I'm almost 30. Which means I'm a serious grown up. Don't mind the fact that I have already been married for 5 and a half years and have a 4 year old and a 3 month old. But, I'm almost 30 and that feels strange. I guess that is how you feel no matter your age and it probably feels strange when you turn 60 and you feel like you just turned 30. Life goes by so darn quickly, it's crazy.

So I made a 30 before 30 bucket list. Not because it's the beginning of the end (like I've joked with all my close friends that are turning 30 this year), but because I want to gain more experiences and make a point to do it.

I have had some awesome experiences in my 29 years here. I have had some extremely difficult experiences. Everything I have been through, good and bad, has helped me shape who I am, and I love that person and her flaws. I didn't always. But that's just another accomplishment to add to my list. 

It took me forever to come up with things, but I wanted things on this list that I have been wanting to do or try. I wanted attainable goals. Goals that would help me improve myself, goals that would add to my life experience, goals that improve my relationships, etc Some are deep. Some are not. Some take more effort than others. All are going to be great!

I'm excited about every one of these things on my list and I am even more excited to accomplish them, because I am definitely going to try to do all of them and keep track of all the details of them too. 

1. Read 30 books
2. Save at least $1000 
3. Sew an item of clothing
4. Have date night once a month
5. Pay off Discover Card
6. Take a glass blowing class
7. Hike Kilgore Falls
8. Start writing a book
9. Visit a new state
10. Have 100 items in my Etsy shop
11. Declutter belongings
12. Volunteer at least 50 hours
13. Make a quilt
14. See a Broadway show
15. Maintain a regular exercise routine
16. Confidently walk in high heels
17. Pay it forward at least once a month
18. Try Yoga
19. Send birthday cards
20. Go kayaking
21. Family game night once a month
22. Blog post twice a month
23. Pay for a stranger's meal
24. Start savings accounts for the boys
25. Get family pictures taken
26. Try a new recipe every month
27. Refinish a piece of furniture and sell it
28. Surprise my kids with a fun activity each month
29. Purge my closet and create a flattering, smaller wardrobe
30. Make a point to do something for myself each month

And that's the shortest thing I've ever written...and this blog posts goes gets me down to 23 more blog posts for the year! :)

The Family I Never Had

Yesterday, when I was driving home from work, I called Mike to let him know I was on my way home, just like I normally do on Mondays and Tuesdays when he has off work. He greeted me, Griffin yelled "Hi Mommy!" in the background. We briefly bantered about our day. Mike said he was making dinner and it was a good surprise, which is what every pregnant wife wants to hear. The way to my heart is through my stomach and cravings these days and he knows how to make my stomach happy for sure. My phone battery was almost dead and I didn't have my charger so I told him I had to go and I'd be home shortly. I told them I loved them and got off the phone.

And then I started thinking about how different my own family is now from the family I grew up knowing. And I just started crying.

Blame it on the 35 weeks pregnant hormones and emotions maybe. Blame it on the realization setting in after a life that hasn't been what I would exactly call easy, in terms of family.

I'm damn lucky.

That's not to say we don't have our issues. Trust me, we do. Mike has his baggage and I have mine. We bring that to our marriage and relationship regularly. The thing is, we work on it. We support each other. We apologize. We both regularly admit when we're wrong. We feel bad for hurting each other or saying the wrong thing at the wrong time or letting stress about other things spill out onto each other. We always said we'd never go to bed angry...but sometimes we do because we are far from perfect. But it's all just so different...

My parents had the opposite of our relationship. My dad was abusive. No, he never drank. No, he never did drugs. From what I can piece together from random family members, it seems like his childhood was rough, but I think he has a lot of issues with mental illness that have unfortunately never been dealt with appropriately. My mom had abused woman syndrome. I remember her being pretty vibrant and having friends when I was younger. The older she got and the longer she stayed with my dad, the less vibrant she was. The meaner she got. Somehow it was easier for me to excuse her behaviour than it was for me to excuse my dad's. She put up with a lot. He said a lot of mean things to her and about her. He made her feel pretty worthless most days. He left bruises on her that she always had a weird excuse for their appearance, but it was never his fault. They would fight, about something meaningless; he'd twist her words and act like the world and everyone in it was against him. She wouldn't be able to keep straight what she said and didn't say and would end up being unable to say anything at all. My dad could never be wrong. Not even remotely. And he could always twist your words and make you question yourself. He never really came to school events, and if he did, he would talk about himself and his problems. He was never proud of anything my brother or I ever did, because whatever we did wrong mattered more. Always.

He never apologized. Not once. He would absolutely lose his shit one night, cussing, screaming, throwing things. He'd make her cry. I only ever called the cops on him once; though in retrospect there were probably several times I should have. Then the next morning, he'd take her out to breakfast and go to yard sales and spend a ridiculous amount of money that they didn't have on pointless stuff that they didn't need. That was his "apology" and she'd go along with it. I couldn't be mad any longer for what he put her through and neither could my brother. Even if we had all been up until 1 am consoling her and trying to convince her that things could get better if she just left.

No. The next day everything was fine and dandy and anger could be had no more.

My mom's piece of advice to my brother and I...keep dad happy and play the game. Yes, he could twist your words and make you feel bad, but you knew the truth. You knew you were right and that was all that should matter. Make him think that he's right. Appease him. It makes life easier for all of us.

Did it? No. It just made you feel like crap. And most of the time I didn't listen anyway. It wasn't because I needed to be right; I needed him to be wrong. I needed him to realize that he was mean and sounded insane sometimes. The problem was that he would yell at my mom for me talking to him like that. It didn't matter that I was an adult and could have my own opinions. He'd tell her to make me shut up.

And when he was "sick", which happened the year after I graduated high school, he made my mom wait on him hand and foot. Did the man have real medical ailments? Yeah, and it sucked. But the way he handled himself was weak and he drained the life out of my mom with his demanding needs and she never got to take care of herself. And he surely never took care of her. She was a type 1 diabetic and if she had trouble with her sugar going low, which she often did, he'd yell at her while it was low and yell at her for it after she would come out of it. He was never understanding of her ailment or her stress, but she ALWAYS had to be sympathetic towards him and all the unfair things that happened to him.

And when it came to money; he'd spend it all. On cheap costume jewelry from China. Random crap he'd find on Craigslist or Ebay. He'd spend and spend and spend on his disability income and then over into my mom's income. And then they'd have to scrape together to pay the mortgage or the car payment; all while the junk accumulated. Then he'd sell the things he bought; his four wheeler he never rode and his guns he never used to "help pay" for bills and blame my mom that he never got anything for himself. All part of his manipulation game.

And when it came to his kids; we were worthless. Zach wasn't into hunting and fishing; so they had no way to connect and he'd just complain about him endlessly. I didn't know when to shut my mouth and was not great with my own money sometimes so I was pretty terrible too. Definitely the worst. I can't even remember all the reasons why I was so terrible, probably because I've tried to block them out. But trust me, if you ask him, he could give you a list a mile long to this day I am sure of why I am a terrible person. We never did anything correctly. We could spend the whole day outside doing yard work and come inside and he'd look out the back window and say "You missed that spot over by the tree" and walk away. Or he'd give a thorough inspection of dishes after they were washed and if there was the slightest spot that you missed "What the hell is wrong with you? You can't even clean a fucking dish?" Everything was wrong; all the time. There was no way to appease. But if you ever said you're horribly mean and you're only ever negative; you got "Well when you were little I used to take you fishing" or "Oh yeah I'm never positive, what about the fact that I took you all out to dinner 3 weeks ago"

And the infamous, "I'm your father and that means you need to respect me"

Cool. You took me fishing when I was 4 and you took us all out to dinner 3 weeks to say sorry in your own weird twisted way for flipping out on Mom and everyone else the night before...and sorry buddy, but respect is earned, whether you're the parent or not, and if you want to treat people like shit and not ever realize it, no I'm not going to respect you. Not for being manipulative and mean and egotistical and self righteous.

I cried on my way home from work yesterday because I realize that my own family; the one I made when I married Mike. The one we grew when we had Griffin and that we'll grow more in just 5 weeks when Grayson joins us. This family is different. In such a good way. We love each other. We spend time together. We support each other. We laugh. We cry. We say the wrong things. We say mean things. We apologize. We fight. We apologize. We admit when we're wrong. Sometimes we lose our tempers and it always ends with an apology and a hug and realizing we're human. We don't manipulate. We don't abuse. We accept that we are sometimes imperfect. We realize the stress and try to recognize where emotions are coming from when we all act certain ways. We talk about things. We aren't one sided. We aren't self centered. We're giving. We're thoughtful. We are kind to others and each other.

My life is so different from what it used to be and what I'm used to. And I really wish that my mom would have gotten to experience life that way. Another day I'll tell the story of when I almost thought we had a breakthrough in that respect. I am sure she would be happy for me now. To see that my family is different and that my boys will grow up knowing how a dad is supposed to treat them and love them. To see that I know unconditional love and support from my husband. To know that I give that same love and support to my husband. Neither of us feels exhausted by the other or left out of our own marriage. In a way it makes me a little jealous that my boys get to have such a great dad; but it also makes me happy and proud and hopeful and encouraged. We're doing something right. Not all of it and not perfectly; but some parts. And it creates a kind of happiness I didn't know existed.