Another father’s day

Living with CPTST and DID is okay sometimes now, I’ve learned to manage it, I’m learning to live with it.  This is my normal, this is my life.

Times get hard and then they get better.

Fathers day was hard again this year, but that’s ok and it’s over.  I get very upset when I think about how I was cheated out of a father, how this man used an innocent child for his sick addictions.  And how now he lives free, and I HAVE TO LIVE WITH WHAT HE DID TO ME !!!

How, he has been shown forgiveness and love, where I feel like my face has been slapped and because I seem like a well put together adult that I don’t matter.  It’s hard

I wish those people who surround him could live in my shoes for just one bad day !!

Now I turn the page to a positive one, and this is what DID allows me to do … looking at the positive side eh !

I turn the page to my #1, my husband and those amazing men who make children’s lives better, who are true fathers, men who will truly leave a beautiful legacy behind, they do exist, I know many of them.  Men who love their children as children, who play with them, who make them laugh and squeal in delight,  men who teach their children what it is to be honorable and a good person.

I look at these children and tears stream down my face, tears of joy for them and sadness for me.


Living with PTSD

Living with PTSD
Same ol, same ol …. just when you think you’ve beat this – BAM triggers out of nowhere.
Yesterday was hard hard HARD, due to a series of events in the past days I’m sure.  On the weekend, a man got way too close to me for comfort, not my husband, not a friend, just some random guy standing around a hockey arena.  I think that was the clenching event.  I was off since then, writing about it makes me feel better.
Yesterday, driving home, an old song came on the radio, I of course did not remember this song until half way through it, I started smelling him again, tasting him, almost pulled over to throw up.  I HATE THIS !
All evening, with these memories flying back into my mind.  I’m sure you know that closing your eyes makes it worse sometimes.
PTSD is hard.
Today, I’m trying to breathe, trying to focus on the moment, the now, feeling the keys under my fingertips, looking at the letters pop up on the screen, taking a breath, feeling it … it’s what helps.

New adventures

Skipping a few chapters here BUT guess what !
I’m weening myself off (with medical assistance) my medications and I feel the need to share my strategies/tools and adventure with you.
First of all, it hasn’t been easy, but it’s something I wanted to do from the first pill I popped into my mouth several years back.  Let me tell you that I resisted going down this pill popping path BUT it’s the best thing that I did for myself.
Taking medication helped me get through some hard years, it helped me return to my daytime job, it helped me wake-up in the morning and function as a mother, wife, coworker.  Those pills helped me sleep at night, breathe throughout the day …. get my drift.  In a nutshell they probably helped saved my life.
Now I feel that between my brilliant psychologist, the psychologist in me (you know you’ve become one too), and the strategies/tools I’ve now got in my back pocket … I can safely try to ween myself off those pills.
Wish me luck

A while

It’s been a while, I’m dealing with things that I don’t feel I can write about at this time.  I’ve drafted several blogs but just can’t seem to hit the publish button.  As certain things just can’t seem real in my mind, do you understand ?  Well, I don’t.  I know things happened and I’m not ready to deal with them at this time, I guess. Dealing with bits and pieces, here and there but can’t seem to face the whole reality.
Today I feel as though “can’t” is a weak word.  I’ve been through hell and back and here I stand in one piece, so can’t, is not in my vocabulary at this moment.
Ok, I don’t want to face the whole reality.  It happens, we all know it does.  Some days are easier than others. Some days the memories haunt us all day and some days we feel normal.
Enough on that, lets put that aside, I want to write about other stuff now.

My birth

Now, I’m not sure if I’ve written about this before.
My story, told to me by my mother is as follows.  She was here illegally from South America, we are not sure why but once I was born, she was sent back to her country and I was immediately put into foster care.
She didn’t even get to name me.
I’ve been trying for a few years to wrap my head around that, I’ve been researching the immigration laws of that time.  I’ve asked for my file from the Children’s Aid Society.
It just baffles me as to why the Canadian government would do something so crewel as to separate a new born child from her mother.
I’ve asked her repeatedly if there was something she was hiding, some criminal activity or drug use perhaps…. that would merit a new born to be taken away from her mother I would think, but my mother said no, no criminal activity, no drugs, no reason whatsoever.
There is absolutely no way the government would take a new born child away from her mother.  NONE
I’ve been contemplating the possibility that my father might have had something to do with that, but my mother tells me they were not even communicating at that time.
How could this be ?
If this is truly due to complete and utter disrespect for the life of a new born child on the part of the Canadian government and the children’s aid society you can bet I will be doing something about this.
How could they do this to me, rip me away from my mother, not let her properly name me, send her back to her country without her newborn child, there is nothing more cruel than that.
According to my aunts, my mother was devastated and suffered a lot of heartache when she returned to her country without her new born daughter.
As a mother, I can completely feel for her, I would NEVER EVER be able to leave my newborn child behind.  I don’t how she managed to cope with what was done to her.  To not be there for your newborn child’s first bath, cry, smile, words, steps, to miss the opportunity to create that most important bond, to breastfeed and to see her grow everyday – two years were taken and we can never get that back.

Some things will never change, will they?

Some things will never change, will they ?
The hyper vigilance will always be there, won’t it ?  at times not as pronounced as other eh!
How do people recover from family trauma ?
How do we move forward after being hurt by our loved ones ?
How do we trust ?
Especially those who are still in contact with paedophiles ?
Please someone tell me how to move forward – it’s so hard, certain relationships I don’t want to lose, these same relationships at times bring such anxiety, pain and sadness.  I matter don’t I ?
I mattered when I was 5, 7, 13 ….. didn’t I ?
What he did to me was wrong, he hurt me, he altered my life, he stole my childhood …. did he not, why can’t people see how much pain that has caused ME.
I feel so alone at times.
I need time away from these people, why do they want to hold on to me so much ?

Lapse ?

OK, not sure what’s going on in my brain, what’s triggering me to have a CPTSD lapse or whatever you want to call it.
Maybe it’s the beginning of school, return to hockey, impending marriage of one of my sisters, MAYBE it’s everything – oufff
But admittedly, it’s hard.
Now, I can admit that it’s CPTSD, to my husband, my close family, some friends, but others … I can come out and say it.  Yesterday, I didn’t remember who was on my son’s hockey team, just a few short months ago, I didn’t remember anything about the season or even certain people’s names, I walked into that arena and my mind went blank.
Today my mind is numb, I’m numb, why ?
I’m doing so well, I don’t want this …. ok, I know it will pass, as it has many times before.  I wish it didn’t exist, but it does, I feel like sleeping, like doing nothing.  I HATE this feeling.
I’m willing myself to type, everything that comes to my head right now.
I think it helps, no, I know it helps.
I need help, I need to speak with my therapist – lets make that call.
Breathe, just breathe
But I have things that need to get done, I’m at work and I have work to do, important work – this damn mental illness doesn’t understand this, does it ?
Ok, no more driving by that house, I’m going to stay home tonight, no arena, I’m going to go home, go to sleep and tomorrow will be better, this will pass.
Send me love, today I need love, abundant love.