On CPTSD

I now don't know why I've spent my life in fear of talking about the trauma I've experienced and the effects of this complex form of PTSD, which some specialists think should be called something else entirely. Treatment for PTSD isn't tailored for the seemingly haphazard nature of CPTSD. so a cure is hard to come by. Whilst some treatments may help alleviate symptoms of such associated co-morbidities like depression, anxiety, insomnia, physical pain (did you know it's the same centre of the brain for both physical and emotional pain?) and stress, they do not cure the symptoms of CPTSD. I have systematically, throughout my adult life explored and faced each symptom to untangle the cobbled mess originally formed during childhood, first experienced during my teens and subsequently later heightened over 20 years of 'domestic' violence where, no matter where I turned, there seemed no escape and far too little support despite all attempts to attain help and information from both professional bodies and family. Of course, hoping for help from those who provided more a hindrance was never going to be a productive manoeuver but still, we continue to try in vain until we are ready to accept this reality. I accepted long ago. CPTSD is a natural response when a vulnerable and sensitive child is forced to live in conditions that are very troubling, where otherwise an adult might not experience the same physiological symptoms of stress, and/or if removed from empathy it may be difficult to understand the child. Part of that trauma was the fear of other people knowing what was happening at home, the emotions that derived from feeling trapped in a war with nowhere to turn for help is what has carried through. The perception was to tell would have brought more of what I learned to traverse from and into an Alice in Wonderland covered fantasy world of my own vivid imagination. Even now when I share my story there's a simmering threatening voice lurking in my head telling me by way of a stress hormonal response, more a feeling than hearing of words, all the ways I am wrong for doing so, the disloyalty, guilt, shame, weakness, spite, inability to let go, pathetic, liar, attention seeking. None of which are my beliefs nor true. I don't have this condition or in this situation because I'm weak, pathetic, unable to let go, or in need of attention other than that which can help. I have nothing to feel ashamed or guilty about, I admit when I've acted unreasonable and make amends as I go along, and I don't talk about my past out of spite although there is anger and grief, relief and a sense of having achieved with an enormous amount of courage so much other people will not comprehend or recognise as progress, attainment as there is no material evidence or award for having done so. Quite the contrary, materialistic possession and opportunity for accolades has been taken, lost and thrown out because of the reminders it embodies. On the surface, it appears my life is lived backwards in a society where we are measured by such valued and skewed subjectivities. I am deemed the devoid of the requisite understanding derogatory term, 'loser', but it is conversely in what I have lost that I found so much of verifiable value that's exponentially worthy of more than anything money can ever buy. A strong sense of justice, honesty, fairness, respect, hunger for knowledge and sheer determination for freedom and independence, leading to interdependence, at almost any cost. Integrity means more to me than anything I can flaunt around as proof of my existence and it shows. My own family, my offspring, their wellbeing and holding us together has been my sole means of inspiration, that and motivation for my past not to be repeated, not to land on them. I was never going to be a loser. So why should I feel embarrassed or ashamed about people knowing where I am, what has led me here when what has got me here is my strength when I felt weak with terror in the face of adversity hell bent on destroying my life out of resentment, hostility because I said "no more", not the complexities of having been traumatised as a child or attracting people who will play their part in the continuance of my tale of treachery, ultimately serving as the catalysts to my awareness and connectivity? The answer is simple; I needn't! I don't, not anymore. Like me or don't, be interested or not but how you can not at least admire a little such tenacity from humble beginnings of life so shy, of innate attunement denied?