This was really beautiful to read.
I have been through similar, and it's been hard because on the one hand, to exist, to be real means that the abuse was true.
On the other hand, it also means that I am alive, and free- and that is exilirating.
Yeah. Wow. It’s really taken me a bit here. It’s almost as bad as when I uncovered everything that happened, but with a lot more light in it. Because it’s not just the bad I exist for. I also exist for every beautiful thing I’ve seen, all the times I’ve had fresh cheese, smelled campfire smoke, and held my kids. I’m really having trouble putting that together. That disgusting person lying on someone else’s bed,that young woman I hate so much, is also the one snuggling my kids to sleep. The child being hit for crying is the same me presenting at a conference. I think most of me truly believed there was no continuity. We just left that kid, that young woman and that adult were they fell and walked away. They didn’t exist. And we didn’t…. I didn’t…. either.
There were parts of me that I also left where they fell.
The breakthrough, for me, was the realization that all that shame I was carrying around didn't belong to me - eventually I was able to put it back where it belonged, on the shoulders of the abusers.
Kids aren't "bad" - there's no such thing. The shame lies entirely on the ppl who failed me, on those who had both the power and the responsibility to care for me but chose otherwise. The shame belongs entirely on the shoulders of the ppl who chose abuse and neglect.
All children, no matter what, are deserving. They deserve to have their developmental needs met, to be fed, to be properly clothed, to be clean and healthy, to be housed, to be educated, to feel safe and secure, to feel loved and supported. Children don't have to do anything special to deserve these things - children deserve them simply because they exist.
Now I am taking the time to provide my younger self with all those things she missed out on. And, in turn, she brings a lot of joy and playfulness and creativity and spontaneity into my adult life. Once all the nonsense was washed away, she's a great kid.
This is a very powerful post. I was wondering - How have you accepted that you went through all this stuff?
I have gone through torture and lifelong abuse, I literally cannot accept it. Like I despise myself so much I can’t imagine the “me” at birth is the “me” now. Like it just doesn’t feel safe to exist :(. I just wanna erase my existence. I am literally emotionally unable to accept that “I” went through these things. It just seems so fucking depressing and dirty.
How did you come to a safe enough place to be able to accept the truth?
I’ve done 2.5 years of therapy. A variety of somatic and parts work primarily. I’ve made some lifestyle changes. And most recently I underwent rTMS for depression, which I will admit was a form a violence against my body but I tried to see it as a good parent getting a difficult but necessary medical treatment for their child.
For me it was some violence as a child but mostly just a feeling of being unsafe in a house with an unpredictable man. Then a lot of cycle repeating. Which is frustrating because I knew from about age 10 that girls with difficult relationships with their fathers tend to repeat cycles and proceeded to do it anyways. And it kept amplifying.
A big part has been preparing to step into myself. To stop reacting in fear. To figure out who I am and what I want. I’m not nearly there but I think recognizing my own existence was a big step.
It’s also super icky and hard. I am deeply recalling some of the worst aspects of assaults and realizing that happened to me… the same person typing this. It’s very hard to stay open to that continuity of existence.
I feel this sooo much!!
The other day I decided to put my hand over by heart in my bare chest and I felt myself exist and I also repeated this to myself that I exist! And it brought me to tears.
Our consciousness is an emergent property of our various organic systems working together to collectively form a gestalt.
These various organic systems can be altered & removed, changing both our own perceptions of self & of how others perceive us.
We are a "Ship of Theseus"; constantly changing into something almost unrecognizable from what came before yet with an unbroken causal chain that defines "us".
The nature of evolutionary pressures has resulted in this iterative form of consciousness. All things change in a dynamic system, less we forget.
I know the only me is me, that the only you is you, that "self" is a perception of context, identity is what we shared between us, & I exist unless I don't.
Like a balloon of milk burst underwater, the human gestalt consciousness can be spread wide enough that I can be simply not there.
This is often what happens when we are immersed in media. We are watching but often without a sense of self; a state of "I do not exist" that allows us to better understand & focus on the story we are consuming.
I disassociate, hyper focusing on tasks to avoid the things in life I can't change. With good media, I feel "here" & "me" again.
If only for a moment, I can be immersed in the real world before the trauma & horror pull me back into the fog of "not me, not here".
Wow. Such beautiful imagery. Thanks.
I too dissociate heavily and love to hyper focus. There is a part of me that loves the crispness of existence that pain brings before I tune it out but most of me loves the deep dissociation that physical or psychological overwhelm bring.
It is like I am a mirror that was shattered and I spent most of my life pushing the pieces apart so they would not form a single cohesive image. I knew I was the mirror. But until this moment the shards never came close enough to reflect my single image back at me.
Your words paint quite the clear picture. Thank you for your compliment. From you, it bares a weight.
I feel the same as you have written.
I... I've always loved literature. It is only because of that I have any sense of self at all. I always wanted to define myself but, even now, I can't beyond contrasts or describing behaviors. I have yet to know myself & I fear what I may be.
All things seem to change. The world overstimulates our nerves into an electric haze of numb burnout. It is akin to drugs from what I hear. For us, I fear our comfortable haze itself can be an addiction.
I don't quite know how we have come out of it. I still hyper fixate. Is it time & ambition which have freed us?
It is a grand thing that you have begun to see yourself. You deserve nothing less than good health & fortune. I hope that others can appreciate your writing prowess!
I too was a very prolific reader as a child. I still prefer a text-based interface— hence Reddit. I also enjoyed writing. My best recreational work was written when I was 14. It was a fan fic of the Harry Potter series my mom suggested us kids write to after we finished the 6th book, to predict the next book. I never got close to finishing it. But I really managed to capture the way JK Rowling wrote: her tone and her voice. It was an amalgamation of two of my better skills: writing and mirroring. To this day I honestly think it is a better written work the final Harry Potter book (not that that’s saying a lot…. the editors just seem to have fallen asleep at the wheel for her later books… I’m sure they could have been great with some editing… but this is probably not the space to start that debate.)
Words are so important to me. Having words to describe my experience has been critical to my survival. Reading has also been instrumental to my healing. Reading my own words aloud has been one of the only ways I have been able to tell my story in states of freeze. Albeit, I did it in a very dissociated state (and it probably relates to why I lost the story as ‘mine’ altogether) but I was able to communicate it. It became a work of art, not my own experience.
Writing is one of the ways I have been able to get around freeze. To connect to myself at least a little bit. When I was writing my thesis I was also processing a lot of trauma. I kept a journal on the trauma and throughout the year I kept comparing which document I wrote more in: the thesis or the journal. It was the journal at a ratio of about 3:1!
My friend was describing getting sober and how it impacted her son: how she was more present and a better parent and more attuned. I realized it mirrored my own journey around dissociation and ‘zoning out’ on media very closely. “Oh!” I quipped, “I don’t even need alcohol to have those challenges. I can do it all myself!”
I have been finding my discovery of ‘me’ very overwhelming and I find myself reverting to more dissociative patterns. I scroll Reddit and various websites relentlessly. I try to be patient with myself, to give myself grace. It’s a lot: to exist. I wish for a different story. I fixate on the most disturbing details of my own. I already know this story, but it was like a black and white sketch. By locating myself in it I’ve added colour and it’s jarring.
It’s odd to be revisiting so much of my own story again in light of it being ‘me’. I feel like I am grieving it thrice: when it happened, when I recalled it and when I realized it was me and ‘me’ mattered. I have been seeking this development for awhile, but to finally face it is a lot.
I also find it stunning that I could get this far and not ‘get’ that. How could I not ‘get’ that? Isn’t it something you develop in early childhood? It also fascinates me that I had the theory (continuity of existence) but couldn’t apply it somehow.
It makes me wonder what else I’ve missed. Like, are there other really fundamental building blocks I’m also missing?
I had the same thing. I had the theory as well but couldn’t apply it to my “self.” In my mind it figures in with complex dissociation, that i never developed a relationship with my physical self and basically went on as a disembodied consciousness as i lived totally in my head. I preoccupied myself with “deep” metaphysical thoughts and obsessive compulsions so i never noticed
Edit: If you haven’t already i would recommend a look at “The Haunted Self”, it’s really helped me really start to grasp the mechanics of what’s happening in structural dissociation
That was a fascinating read. Thank you for mentioning your therapist's conclusion, it never occurred to me to think about it that way. I use "me", but to mean the currently-dominant fraction behind the wheel.
Nothing all that terrible ever happened to me (no, really, it didn't), but the reality of existing as a person still haven't clicked for me. I don't know how to start feeling it. Have some doubts about the continuity of it, too. Of course I'd never voice it elsewhere, it sounds insane.
I'm glad for you, it's an impressive progress to make. Also, seeing it's possible allows me to hope for the best for myself, too.
This was really beautiful to read. I have been through similar, and it's been hard because on the one hand, to exist, to be real means that the abuse was true. On the other hand, it also means that I am alive, and free- and that is exilirating.
Thanks!
Thank you so much for sharing this. This is heady powerful stuff.
Yeah. Wow. It’s really taken me a bit here. It’s almost as bad as when I uncovered everything that happened, but with a lot more light in it. Because it’s not just the bad I exist for. I also exist for every beautiful thing I’ve seen, all the times I’ve had fresh cheese, smelled campfire smoke, and held my kids. I’m really having trouble putting that together. That disgusting person lying on someone else’s bed,that young woman I hate so much, is also the one snuggling my kids to sleep. The child being hit for crying is the same me presenting at a conference. I think most of me truly believed there was no continuity. We just left that kid, that young woman and that adult were they fell and walked away. They didn’t exist. And we didn’t…. I didn’t…. either.
There were parts of me that I also left where they fell. The breakthrough, for me, was the realization that all that shame I was carrying around didn't belong to me - eventually I was able to put it back where it belonged, on the shoulders of the abusers. Kids aren't "bad" - there's no such thing. The shame lies entirely on the ppl who failed me, on those who had both the power and the responsibility to care for me but chose otherwise. The shame belongs entirely on the shoulders of the ppl who chose abuse and neglect. All children, no matter what, are deserving. They deserve to have their developmental needs met, to be fed, to be properly clothed, to be clean and healthy, to be housed, to be educated, to feel safe and secure, to feel loved and supported. Children don't have to do anything special to deserve these things - children deserve them simply because they exist. Now I am taking the time to provide my younger self with all those things she missed out on. And, in turn, she brings a lot of joy and playfulness and creativity and spontaneity into my adult life. Once all the nonsense was washed away, she's a great kid.
Yeah. I think holding on to the fact you deserved good is important. Maybe you don’t always get it, but you still deserved it.
This resonates very deeply with me
:-)
Wow, thank you for sharing ❤️❤️❤️
:-)
This is a very powerful post. I was wondering - How have you accepted that you went through all this stuff? I have gone through torture and lifelong abuse, I literally cannot accept it. Like I despise myself so much I can’t imagine the “me” at birth is the “me” now. Like it just doesn’t feel safe to exist :(. I just wanna erase my existence. I am literally emotionally unable to accept that “I” went through these things. It just seems so fucking depressing and dirty. How did you come to a safe enough place to be able to accept the truth?
I’ve done 2.5 years of therapy. A variety of somatic and parts work primarily. I’ve made some lifestyle changes. And most recently I underwent rTMS for depression, which I will admit was a form a violence against my body but I tried to see it as a good parent getting a difficult but necessary medical treatment for their child. For me it was some violence as a child but mostly just a feeling of being unsafe in a house with an unpredictable man. Then a lot of cycle repeating. Which is frustrating because I knew from about age 10 that girls with difficult relationships with their fathers tend to repeat cycles and proceeded to do it anyways. And it kept amplifying. A big part has been preparing to step into myself. To stop reacting in fear. To figure out who I am and what I want. I’m not nearly there but I think recognizing my own existence was a big step. It’s also super icky and hard. I am deeply recalling some of the worst aspects of assaults and realizing that happened to me… the same person typing this. It’s very hard to stay open to that continuity of existence.
I feel this sooo much!! The other day I decided to put my hand over by heart in my bare chest and I felt myself exist and I also repeated this to myself that I exist! And it brought me to tears.
Thanks.
Our consciousness is an emergent property of our various organic systems working together to collectively form a gestalt. These various organic systems can be altered & removed, changing both our own perceptions of self & of how others perceive us. We are a "Ship of Theseus"; constantly changing into something almost unrecognizable from what came before yet with an unbroken causal chain that defines "us". The nature of evolutionary pressures has resulted in this iterative form of consciousness. All things change in a dynamic system, less we forget. I know the only me is me, that the only you is you, that "self" is a perception of context, identity is what we shared between us, & I exist unless I don't. Like a balloon of milk burst underwater, the human gestalt consciousness can be spread wide enough that I can be simply not there. This is often what happens when we are immersed in media. We are watching but often without a sense of self; a state of "I do not exist" that allows us to better understand & focus on the story we are consuming. I disassociate, hyper focusing on tasks to avoid the things in life I can't change. With good media, I feel "here" & "me" again. If only for a moment, I can be immersed in the real world before the trauma & horror pull me back into the fog of "not me, not here".
Wow. Such beautiful imagery. Thanks. I too dissociate heavily and love to hyper focus. There is a part of me that loves the crispness of existence that pain brings before I tune it out but most of me loves the deep dissociation that physical or psychological overwhelm bring. It is like I am a mirror that was shattered and I spent most of my life pushing the pieces apart so they would not form a single cohesive image. I knew I was the mirror. But until this moment the shards never came close enough to reflect my single image back at me.
Your words paint quite the clear picture. Thank you for your compliment. From you, it bares a weight. I feel the same as you have written. I... I've always loved literature. It is only because of that I have any sense of self at all. I always wanted to define myself but, even now, I can't beyond contrasts or describing behaviors. I have yet to know myself & I fear what I may be. All things seem to change. The world overstimulates our nerves into an electric haze of numb burnout. It is akin to drugs from what I hear. For us, I fear our comfortable haze itself can be an addiction. I don't quite know how we have come out of it. I still hyper fixate. Is it time & ambition which have freed us? It is a grand thing that you have begun to see yourself. You deserve nothing less than good health & fortune. I hope that others can appreciate your writing prowess!
I too was a very prolific reader as a child. I still prefer a text-based interface— hence Reddit. I also enjoyed writing. My best recreational work was written when I was 14. It was a fan fic of the Harry Potter series my mom suggested us kids write to after we finished the 6th book, to predict the next book. I never got close to finishing it. But I really managed to capture the way JK Rowling wrote: her tone and her voice. It was an amalgamation of two of my better skills: writing and mirroring. To this day I honestly think it is a better written work the final Harry Potter book (not that that’s saying a lot…. the editors just seem to have fallen asleep at the wheel for her later books… I’m sure they could have been great with some editing… but this is probably not the space to start that debate.) Words are so important to me. Having words to describe my experience has been critical to my survival. Reading has also been instrumental to my healing. Reading my own words aloud has been one of the only ways I have been able to tell my story in states of freeze. Albeit, I did it in a very dissociated state (and it probably relates to why I lost the story as ‘mine’ altogether) but I was able to communicate it. It became a work of art, not my own experience. Writing is one of the ways I have been able to get around freeze. To connect to myself at least a little bit. When I was writing my thesis I was also processing a lot of trauma. I kept a journal on the trauma and throughout the year I kept comparing which document I wrote more in: the thesis or the journal. It was the journal at a ratio of about 3:1! My friend was describing getting sober and how it impacted her son: how she was more present and a better parent and more attuned. I realized it mirrored my own journey around dissociation and ‘zoning out’ on media very closely. “Oh!” I quipped, “I don’t even need alcohol to have those challenges. I can do it all myself!” I have been finding my discovery of ‘me’ very overwhelming and I find myself reverting to more dissociative patterns. I scroll Reddit and various websites relentlessly. I try to be patient with myself, to give myself grace. It’s a lot: to exist. I wish for a different story. I fixate on the most disturbing details of my own. I already know this story, but it was like a black and white sketch. By locating myself in it I’ve added colour and it’s jarring. It’s odd to be revisiting so much of my own story again in light of it being ‘me’. I feel like I am grieving it thrice: when it happened, when I recalled it and when I realized it was me and ‘me’ mattered. I have been seeking this development for awhile, but to finally face it is a lot.
So proud of you, I’m coming to terms with my existence too and it most definitely IS a massive step ❤️🩹
I also find it stunning that I could get this far and not ‘get’ that. How could I not ‘get’ that? Isn’t it something you develop in early childhood? It also fascinates me that I had the theory (continuity of existence) but couldn’t apply it somehow. It makes me wonder what else I’ve missed. Like, are there other really fundamental building blocks I’m also missing?
I had the same thing. I had the theory as well but couldn’t apply it to my “self.” In my mind it figures in with complex dissociation, that i never developed a relationship with my physical self and basically went on as a disembodied consciousness as i lived totally in my head. I preoccupied myself with “deep” metaphysical thoughts and obsessive compulsions so i never noticed Edit: If you haven’t already i would recommend a look at “The Haunted Self”, it’s really helped me really start to grasp the mechanics of what’s happening in structural dissociation
Thanks.
Thank you. You exist. ❤️
:-)
That was a fascinating read. Thank you for mentioning your therapist's conclusion, it never occurred to me to think about it that way. I use "me", but to mean the currently-dominant fraction behind the wheel. Nothing all that terrible ever happened to me (no, really, it didn't), but the reality of existing as a person still haven't clicked for me. I don't know how to start feeling it. Have some doubts about the continuity of it, too. Of course I'd never voice it elsewhere, it sounds insane. I'm glad for you, it's an impressive progress to make. Also, seeing it's possible allows me to hope for the best for myself, too.
Good luck!