its really fucked up that everyone wants to minimize the things i've gone through and make fun of it
you say i talk about it too much but im just trying to process my shit
i know for you it seems easy but everyone processes things differently and for me like
everything is stuck inside me like heavy rocks and they're just frozen in time these memories are, into segments
and the clips play in my head all the fucking time
im just sick of it you have no idea
how hard i've tried to work through everything and, heal from complete mental breakdown.
after a certain point there comes a mental collapse from just, system overload. with what you can handle.
i've been through so much "abuse" that I can't even remember it all, and my brain has had to protect me from it by dissociating my mind completely, walling it off, blacking it out, erasing my life, erasing me. my memory. and segmenting them into, moments frozen in time. that's all i'm left with anyway.
it's really frustrating to try now, and go back and retrace my foot steps to see how i got so lost, and so fucked up. trying to regather myself now, after that mental collapse from maximum capacity.
trauma is like, water and there's only so much a damn can hold before it breaks, it's a similar thing for me
and all it takes is one, good poke and a leak will start, and the structure will crack and crumble from there.
that's sort of what happened to me. for a long time i forgot, everything.
i lived in this strange dissociated state like, on a cloud. everyone who knew me at this time said i seemed, "aloof" and "distant" like i seemed, "a million miles away." it sounds cliche but, this are the exact words they use to describe how i was at this time. 17, 18, in high school.
it wasn't until years later that some pieces started to fall together.
whatever strange dissociative fugue i was living in, this fog, that my brain walled myself off inside of to protect myself, my identity, my sanity. the protective bubble started to crack.
for me it's very difficult to talk about this now, anything along these lines without feeling "dissociated" or the beginnings of it coming on. or sometimes i will feel ill, or too panicked, from talking about abuse.
sometimes when i remember it, there are physical sensations, or you start sweating and going into a panic attack and, a train is running through your mind so incredibly fast like a blur and you can't make it stop. you just want to breathe but you can't, you feel like you're falling down a long tunnel that will never end.
other times i've been physically ill. there were times where, i first tried to discuss what happened to me with family members. and in the middle of talking i- thought i would be fine but, suddenly it came over me i was not. and i had to sit down.
i literally sat on the floor, and curled up into a ball. and they were like are you ok?? and i said, "oh my stomach just hurts... must of been something i ate..."
and then after a minute the panic attack was coming over me and i felt like i was sweating and dizzy and going to vomit. someone was talking to me for quite a while but i wasn't listening at all i was just staring straight forward trying to breath in and out of my mouth.
this was a tactic i'd used other times where i felt this feeling come over me before- back when i was in that "dissociative bubble" that i didn't understand. i thought it was just nausea and, i didn't understand why it would happen. i didn't know what i was having were, the beginning signs of ptsd settling in like fine lines that eventually turn to wrinkles. for me it was a sign of something a lot deeper coming.
and as i aged i came to know this feeling more and more, feeling it with more vibrancy, brighter, more colorful, powerful. as if a numbing cream was slowly wearing off the panic attacks were getting more and more perfectly clear and coming from a lense that was out of focus to full 4k HD clarity. the more i felt the more, i couldn't handle and, they worsened over time.
eventually these were the symptoms that ruled my life.
the first time, i remember i was laying in bed. i was living with my grandmother at this time. and, i guess she made a threat of violence, or, yelled. did something to make me feel, isolated, scared, unsafe. Vulnerable, trapped. Impending, abuse, control. Lack of trust. It came tumbling down on me like an ice berg one night, after whatever trigger it was, maybe a little tiff we got into. Though they were rare, because I did whatever it took to avoid conflict. She wasn't the kindest, she was.. a "tough cookie" as I like to call it. And also an alcoholic.
So she could be quite, strict and. Difficult, at times and. Sometimes she'd show a side to her that was more volatile. And yeah, I started getting this overwhelming feeling and I said I needed to lay down and be alone.
And turned on something in my computer trying to distract myself. Calming music, classical music. Everything felt so alarming, and overwhelming. And I began to heat up like an oven. I continued trying to breath and closing my eyes. I felt my forehead and my upper lip and realized I was completely wet with sweat, my body as well. And I sat up and turned the music off because it wasn't helping. Nothing would. I tried to think, what will work, what will work, what will work to make this stop. Stop hyperventilating. Just breathe.
I started whispering to myself everythings going to be ok, out loud. And saying it over and over again and rocking back and forth. This is an, inexperienced attempt at grounding that- doesn't work. Sadly. I didn't know grounding techniques then, and at this point, my body and mind was- somewhere else. Where? Trauma. I didn't have access to it but, my nervous system did. And I was experienced the, fight or flight response to whatever situation I was in years ago. As if it was happening, now.
This is what happens with trauma, you either process it and move forward, healed form it. Like a broken bone. Or, it freezes in time and remains locked in place just where you left it. Shut off from memory, shut off, completely away. In an isolated chamber all to itself.
Unfortunately for me I had *many* of these but, like I said that damn of trauma, the leak started small. So.
Eventually, more of these panic attacks started occuring with memories alongside them. That would come, trickling in at first.
I started remembering things, that were so, unbelievably horrifying to me and, changed everything I knew about myself and my life, my past, and the people I knew who abused me. It was, a lot to take in.
I felt like I never really knew my dad but I didn't know why, and I just didn't have any memories really surrounding him as a child. I never really thought about it though. I suppose that was kind of the point, my brain didn't want me to.
But eventually, during one of these panic attacks, at night. In bed. Lucky me. I started asking myself why is this happenign, why. If there is a reason for it, show me that reason. I'm ready. And I like Jimmy Nuetron brain blasted deep into my mind.
And there it was. A memory, in fragments here and there. I remembered, little details at first, though I wasn't sure where it was, or when it was. Or who I even was at this time. Or if this was even, real. If it was really a memory or not. I was like, trying to make sense of the pieces my brain was trying to show me.
Wooden floors, a baseball bat. My kitchen at home. I was in trouble. My fathers voice told me that, in darkness he spoke to me. And I'm like, why, why is this happening, Why is it dark, why can I only hear and not see? And then I remember, I wasn't blind folded. I asked myself, why wasn't I speaking? And I remembered, there was nothing I could do. He had me in an impossible situation I couldn't get out of. And that, I had my eyes shut trying not to feel the pain anymore. I deliberately closed my eyes after enough times being struck, I remembered thinking to myself, this thought I remember perfectly. "How do I get out of here? There has to be a way I don't have to feel this pain." And then I blacked out. Dissociated.
I remembered opening a door in my mind, and walking inside of it and sitting down in the middle of a dark room with wooden floors, lit by a single candle in the center. It was cold but the candle had warmth so I sat by it. I was scared of what was behind me but something inside me told me not to look, not to worry about what was going around me and to just sit down, be quiet. I held my knees close to my chest and stared at this candle wishing to be warmer. And something told me to wait. As I sorted of wondered, "Now how am I going to get out? How will I find the door?" There was a notion of, "not yet"
And then it was as if I was asleep. Everything just cuts out and, when I wake up I'm in my body again, regaining consciousness- barely. And I'm on the floor of my kitchen/dining area in my home. Laying there with my face smushed into it and there's drool and snot, and tears, and spit on my body, and blood. I started to cough, and choke.
