Insider Story: Living with Complex #PTSD by guest @A_K_Taylor

Hi everyone, I am glad to be here even though I am going to be talking about very dreadful subjects. I felt empowered to share some info about Complex PTSD (CPTSD) and Continuous Traumatic Stress Disorder (CTSD).

CTSD and CPTSD are very closely related to each other and they can evolve between one another like the swinging of a pendulum–this is something I know because I have experienced it first-hand. To keep things simple, both are repeated exposures to trauma over time. They are considerably more harmful and detrimental to a person than PTSD (not that I am trivializing it at all). It’s basically developing PTSD over and over again. The more it happens, the worse things become. Make sure to boost your productivity with the best medical marijuana strains for PTSD, anxiety and more.

Of course, any source of trauma that one suffers repeatedly can lead to CTSD/CPTSD.

My source of trauma was long term bullying of over 20 of my 34 years I have been alive. I have a couple instances that are unrelated to bullying that also developed PTSD: a natural disaster (tornado) and a very bad visit to a gynecologist which never happened again thanks to finding a reputable gynecologist in Virginia Beach.

The Dirty Laundry List of Symptoms

In addition to the related symptoms that CPTSD has with PTSD, it also has:

• interpersonal and social problems, emotional deregulation, loss of faith, inability to experience joy or happiness, increased hostility and anger management issues, highly volatile explosive anger and rage, increased despair, more extreme isolation, apathy, avoidance, feelings of vengeance, the need for a cause to help others not experience the trauma, need of a rescuer, and attachment issues (especially insecure attachment).
• In some scenarios, a person can feel persecuted, unwanted, hated, despised, and that they are different from other human beings (“Why me?”).
• Sense of self, self image, and self esteem is down the toilet. There is even further anxiety problems including what is called anticipatory anxiety where a person “anticipates” or expects trauma. To make things even worse, a person with CPTSD becomes desensitized or numb to trauma without realizing it. In addition to the emotional, mental, and psychological issues, a lot of physiological issues can develop from these: migraines, chronic fatigue, PMDD (women only), joint and muscle pain, issues with weight, burn-out, insomnia, and hypersomnia.
• To complete the set, a learned helplessness develops. People with CPTSD are very prone to re-victimization.

When CTSD comes out to play, the entire laundry list of PTSD and CPTSD swells to the extreme and becomes hard-wired. It can also cause:

• loss of faith in the good of humanity and the world, loss of sense of safety and security, extreme fears of conspiracy, the near or complete inability to trust, and even more extreme social and interpersonal anxiety and fear.
• To make this even worse, trauma seems to become the norm to the sufferer (this is my lot in life; it’s never going to get better or change).

CPTSD that has evolved from CTSD is even more damaging. As I mentioned before, things can easily swing the other way, so there is an extreme risk of relapse or re-victimization {Ed. note: this is a legal term, as definite by the criminal justice system}.

For further reading you can put these terms into your search engine of choice: Continuous Traumatic Stress Disorder, Complex PTSD. There are tons of great material to be found!

A Life of Dark and Gray

[share ]Bullying, betrayal, and being ostracized became commonplace for me[/share], and after a time, I felt like the rest of my life was going to be this way, slugging it out in a dog-eat-dog world for even a meager existence.

I wondered why everybody hated me so much or what it was about me that they found so offensive. Just existing and breathing the air seemed to be enough. I couldn’t be myself without suffering consequences. I had to hide who I was and guard it well. People just waited to knife me in the back, if they had the chance. I walked through life with a target on my back. Just saying hello would end in imminent attack and ridicule.

Why could some people be themselves without consequences? Why was just one true friend forever in the world too much to ask?

At times, I felt like I was an alien. Was there something wrong with me? Why were people so mean and cruel to me? Why was everyone against me? I got to where I didn’t want to come to school anymore and wanted to do my learning at home. It’s not like anyone would have noticed if I never came back. Actually, they would probably throw a party.

[share ]There were times I would reach total breakdown[/share]. I had unimaginable pain on the inside that would ache worse than a broken bone. I felt crushed by a torrent of loneliness, but I was reminded that I was unwanted and unloved by everyone outside of my family, and there was nothing I could do. I became so angry and volatile, but I didn’t know why. Sometimes, I felt about as stable as nitroglycerine, just ready to go off without warning. I indiscriminately hated and resented everyone, the entire world, because they hated me for no reason. I didn’t know why I didn’t seem to belong among the human race.

The waterworks would turn on by themselves no matter how hard I fought them, and I would weep in the middle of the woods. Nobody should see me like this, so I better get over it fast. If I played the part of a baby at school, the bullies would tear me apart.

There were times I seemed so numb I didn’t feel anything at all. I wasn’t happy, or was I sad? I was tightly closed off from the world like a box turtle. Since it happened almost all the time, I expected disaster, failure, or attack. Everything I would ever do or not do was going to be hard since the world is against me. I tried to excel in tasks and gain merit, but when popularity was involved, I was out of the race. Then I just wouldn’t bother.

Then it was just about surviving–clawing my way through. For what? Why? This is what my life is going to be like until I die? My life seemed to lose meaning. I began to lose sight of who I was, what my purpose was, or if I even had one. Purpose, as well as my hopes and dreams, seemed impossible. Finding friends or even someone to love is far too risky and dangerous to me since I felt so fragile that I would shatter at any moment, and my world would implode.

So then I became afraid to believe in anything. I was afraid to trust anyone. I was afraid to get too happy about anything. I got tired of being let down or being thrown to the wolves or left to drown. There is only so much disappointment I can take. After a short amount of time, I would be quickly reminded of why this was so, and I would scold myself for opening myself up to it again. When would I just stop?

I had a hunger deep inside of me that wouldn’t go away. Isolation and withdrawal just made it hurt even more. If I had a positive interaction with a person, I was reminded of it more, and it seemed to be what I longed for. It just didn’t come often enough. Everything would be like it was tomorrow, and it may be another long while before someone would be nice to me again.

Once in a while, I would attend a social gathering, but it seemed as if I was on high alert the whole time. I wouldn’t approach anyone; I waited until they approached me–apprehensively. Afterwards, I would go home and sleep for two hours since I was so exhausted. I didn’t really know why. Before the gathering, I would be excited but stressed out at the same time, even for a week before. Sometimes, I contemplated on chickening out, but then it may be a year before I was invited to another.

Survival and Recovery

During the years, I never really had a normal life and it was a struggle to make it through the day before I had to do it again tomorrow. As a child, I created imaginary friends, had animal friends, connected with my Creator, and created elaborate fantasy worlds where I had many, many adventures. The only problem with my animal friends was that they didn’t live forever, and when they died, I lost my best friend. That was hard. I had to leave almost everything I had at home before I went to face the world that waited to pummel me.

When I became a teenager, I had to find different ways to enter into my fantasy worlds. I was at the age where I couldn’t play anymore, but I tried to stick it out as long as possible.

Then, I discovered writing.

I would write myself back in to my realms and discovered new ones. I taught myself how to write novels, and flourished. I never intended to publish, but that’s another story. I also shared this with a younger cousin and we had some awesome adventures too. No one else at school knew about my “Top Secret Novel” that later became novels. The only reason why my parents knew was because the computer was in their room and I kept them up all hours of the night to write, or we would fuss over who was on the computer next. The writing carried on into my adulthood and hasn’t stopped since.

My family was the other bright spot in this dark, gray world. They loved me and provided a safe haven for me after being battered daily by the world. Only to them, and my Creator, was I not worthless, and that my thoughts and feelings mattered. I was wanted and loved. They would also take me fishing, hunting, and all that kind of stuff. They let me go on hikes in the woods and gave me things for some backyard fun.

Recovering from CPTSD of any kind is difficult, long, and takes work. After losing my job in January of 2010 due to the recession, a long tenure of isolation that wasn’t self imposed, began. I tried to regain my footing, but it seemed as society didn’t want me, and I was left to wallow in my pain and isolation. I began writing full time and learning a lot of other things, but I became a complete social recluse, a total hermit. My computer was my only window to the outside world and writing was my preferred method of communication. This is not common knowledge until now.

My family became extremely concerned about me, and little did I realize that I was in the middle of a stark breakdown and depression. I was, more or less, a dead person walking. I thought that depression looked differently than what I felt, so I didn’t believe I was depressed. I thought depression was sadness and crying all the time. I was mad at the world and wanted to be left alone. I didn’t really trust anyone. I had bad migraine headaches a lot, joint and muscle pain, felt tired all the time, and some days, I didn’t feel like doing anything but laying in bed and sleeping. Thankfully, there’s a Regenerative Medicine Clinic Near me where I could get treatment.

In the later part of 2011, I met people who would become my best friends. They were the first real friends after a fifteen year wait when I had none. Having people outside of family who really love and care about me, are happy to see me, and who want to give me a hug has been the biggest key to my recovery. Just having a friend I can call and talk to if I need it is something so many people take for granted. It means the world to someone who was hated as much I had been. I had to go on the radical notion to try to trust one more time; maybe it was because I didn’t really have anything to lose and all to gain if it worked out.

Over the next three years, I connected with these people and fixed the many parts of me that were broken, and the deep, painful scars were finally able to heal–there was a lot of me that was broken that barely worked, if at all. I began to read material about leadership and social skills–things I never learned due to my tormented childhood.

I am a Survivor!

On November 8, 2014, I declared myself survivor and not a victim. I want to start a new life with a clean slate and only share this and help others–which will also be helpful in my continuing recovery.

I had to bandage up my inner child and fight free from the grips of the past. It has taken quite a process. Nearly every day, I continue to tell myself that my past doesn’t dictate my future. There are still days where it doesn’t feel like it, but I have to muscle through.

I have never taken any medications since I had serious fears about it altering my brain chemistry and the side effects, especially with increased risk of suicide. I had an aunt, stricken with CPTSD due to a long history of domestic violence who took antidepressants, anti-anxiety drugs, and Ambien, who later killed herself. No one ever thought she would do this. I have been taking vitamin supplements and natural alternatives to meds. They help with a lot of the physical and chemical symptoms related to CPTSD, minus the risks and side effects. Meds only help with the anxiety; they don’t do so much with the stuff that causes that anxiety so much.

Some periods of healthy isolation is good for me since I am an introvert by nature, but too much of it is bad. Connecting with nature, meditation, prayer, and reflective thinking also help, but this may not work so well with extroverts. Finding solitude, a place to be at peace, helps with the nightmares, intrusive emotions, and triggers. Avoiding environments that are stressful and full of the triggers, unless necessary, also help.

Talking with my parents and my new friends about what really happened to me for the first time has been another big key. I couldn’t talk about it years ago due to the pain of reliving it, but I should have. Only do this with people you really trust. Talking about it when you are ready, despite the pain, is part of release and recovery. Some of my stories have been hard for people to hear or believe.

I am slowly and systematically trying to reconnect with people as I come out of “hermithood.” In case you are wondering, becoming a hermit for the rest of one’s life isn’t necessarily a good thing, nor will it help with overcoming CPTSD. It’s actually extremely harmful. Extended isolation over a long period of time hurts more than it helps, so don’t do it to yourself, if you can help it. Even introverts and shy people need positive human contact–even if it’s just a little when they need it.

I feel empowered and compelled to take back something I have been deprived of. I now feel more apt to chase after the dreams that I once felt were unreachable. I never went to see a therapist or a psychologist. One reason was that I felt I was paying for someone to be my friend or to care about me until the money ran out. To me, it’s almost as bad as having to pay for sex, because I don’t have a prayer for getting laid. My insecure attachment and history with betrayal had a lot to do with that notion. There were some other reasons as well.

I have not recovered 100% yet, and I am still on my way. I just have to take one day at a time and resist frustration since it is a slow process considering the damage and the length of time.

Have questions or comments? Please share!

If you want to connect with me you can find me on my website or on Twitter: @A_K_Taylor. All my other links are on my website. After a long and still-ongoing recovery, I have a new WIP: Overcoming and Combating Post-traumatic Stress Disorder.

 

 

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