#childhood emotional neglect survivors

[performing-personhood]

My spouse is a hardboiled skeptic.

Former midtier-elite military, current high school economics teacher, lifelong agnostic atheist who acknowledges the probable existence of the unseen, but suffers, as do we all, from the post-juvenile self-defensive tittering judgment of anything inherently "other" or "weird" or "dumb." Absolutely cannot set aside - or unwilling to exert the effort required to actually set aside - said judgment long enough get past the outward dumbness of paranormal investigations in order to see what's actually being accomplished by the person in the blindfold and headphones. (Yes I am talking about you, Estes Method.)

Despite this, I managed to - through brute force and a completely deliberate ignoring of my extreme screaming discomfort - watch "The Unbinding" anyway. He wandered away and played Super Nintendo for a while, bored but nobly hiding his upturned nose for my sake and honestly isn't that all we can realistically expect of our spouses?

I'm gonna have to watch a second time because I was pretty distracted by having to do a very elaborate

"I'm not listening, I can't see you, lalalalalala all of this is fine, I am almost forty and i am not in any way a dumb stupid bad person with extremely bad taste in entertainment who will never be taken seriously, never amount to anything, and never have any friends because I am a dumb stupid bad person with dumb stupid bad taste in dumb stupid bad things, since obviously acceptance and belonging is contingent upon liking the correct things which I do not and never will which means I will be politely humored and tolerated for the rest of my life, what's with that i mean who even thinks that ell-oh-ell i am so comfortable with my decisions right now"

Busby Berkeley-style song and dance number around my trauma responses.

Nonetheless. My therapist will be proud of me when I tell her I've acheived this milestone, so I'm choosing to be proud of myself too.

Later, instead of continuing to ruminate and wallow and probably ruining what precious little remains of this weekend, I will instead make the awkward and unnecessary apology to my spouse aloud and - hopefully, with a little luck and some trust in the person I've cohabitated with for eleven years - permit myself the indulgence of communicating my discomfort for the sole purpose of allowing myself to be comforted.

[subsystems]

About dissociation in childhood, from Treating Adult Survivors of Childhood Emotional Abuse and Neglect (pp. 148-150)

[nmolesofadrenaline]

[ontheoutside-lookingin]

“She’s so sweet she’s always going out of her way to help others” quick someone give that girl all the love and safe space she deserves before being “sweet” (pathological people pleasing as a trauma response) destroys her and leaves behind a bitter empty shell of a person

[annabelle-house]

how do you expect me to get better in the environment that made me sick in the first place?

[bipolarmango]

To whom it may concern: people who have grown up emotionally neglected often end up in situations where they give 100% for a person (friend, partner) without realizing that they get very little in return. Oftentimes, that other person is the one walking out.

The true but hurtful stuff my therapist says

[sparrow-the-tired-lesbian]

I am trying. This wrinkly piece of spam sloshing around in my skull has just been through things no human should go through and it’s damaged from it. I’m trying, but I’m damaged. I can’t fix what’s been broken.

The cool thing is, I don’t have to fix it. Healing isn’t fixing, it leaves little imprints that remind you what you’ve survived. Imprints that remind you that you’ll survive again, regardless of what happened to me. My brain and my body have been harmed by people who haven’t cared what baggage they put on me, and even after those wounds have healed, there’ll be scars. I think that’s okay. I’ve been through a lot, more than I should’ve, and I can grow if I choose to.

I can grow if I choose to.

I can keep going.

[juniperandjustice]

Telling someone who has suffered horrible abuse and been through many kinds of hell that you can hardly even imagine much less understand or relate to, that “self-love is important” and to call a suicide hotline when they express their struggles and talk about their reality is dismissive, invalidating, silencing, and hurtful.  It doesn't help anything.

So is telling them that *you* would never say “FML”, when you haven't had the hardships and traumas they have, when you aren't stuck in an abusive relationship and financially controlled, kept from getting medical care.  Showing off your abled-ness. The opportunities and support you have access to. Lucky you, look at your privilege.  You've been sheltered and secure your whole life.  Other people haven't been so lucky.

[nothing0fnothing]

I remember being a kid and not understanding that the kids I went to school with didn't have lives like mine. I thought they all could just manage to be bubbly and unserious and good at school all day then go home to silence like I did.

[safe-haven-safe-place]

[invalid-request]

Sometimes when I view content about parental abuse/neglect, I accidentally fall into the mindset of trying to gather all the information so I can go tell my parents, "See? Here's where you messed up. You have to understand so you can do it right!" And then I have to be extra gentle with my inner child as I remind it - it's too late, they can't go back to the past and do it right. This is who I am now.

[nmolesofadrenaline]

[annabelle-house]

i wish people heard the things you said and saw the things you did to me.

so they could somewhat know and understand how i felt.

[jabberwock-islanders]

I hate parents.

[check tags for possible tws]

I hate parents. I hate parents that look down on their kids. I hate parents that use their kids for their own personal gain. I hate parents that force their kids to grow up long before they’re supposed to. I hate parents that make their kids fend for themselves and refuse to help. I hate parents that expect their kids to help them with things they’re too young to handle. I hate parents that push their kids to live out the life they failed to have. I hate parents that take “tough love” too far. I hate parents that overly spoil their kids and make them think they can do no wrong. I hate parents that baby their kids even after they’re well past the point of needing it. I hate parents that don’t take their kids seriously when they need help. I hate parents that think their child is attention seeking when they need help with something serious. I hate parents that call their kids “hypochondriacs” when they’re worried about their health. I hate parents that gaslight their kids into believing they’re always right when they aren’t. I hate parents that argue with their kids even after they’ve proved that they’re right about something. I hate parents that dismiss and abandon their kids when they need them most. I hate parents that cause constant physical harm to their kids. I hate parents that cause constant mental and emotional harm to their kids. I hate parents.

But I love parents too. I love parents that support their kids no matter what. I love parents that deescalate problems while making sure their child is heard. I love parents that do anything to protect their kids. I love parents that give their kids mental health advice when they need or ask for it. I love parents that give their kids suggestions of where to start based on their own mental health history. I love parents that let their kids take charge when they know they’re able to. I love parents that offer their help well past adulthood if their child needs it. I love parents that take in the lost, abandoned, and traumatized and welcome them to a new life with open arms. I love parents that take the time to understand their child’s needs and put in the effort to accommodate them. I love parents that admit when their child is right. I love parents that defend their child when needed. I love parents that allow their children to grow. I love parents that do their job, and I hate parents that don’t.

[sparrow-the-tired-lesbian]

I feel like this year has just been me digging through the Trauma Dumpster in my brain every few months and unpacking whatever the hell I find there

[tiredtourettic]

Our ambulatory buddy is gonna help us achieve assisted living !!

We gotta find somewhere that offers housing and assistants and then apply, and then we'll finally be out of here!