The Joys of Living with PTSD

learning how to cope

Archive for the tag “insecurities”

Hearts Held Together With Duct Tape and Superglue

    One of the things you begin to realize as you go through the healing process after an assault, is that there are parts of you that are irreparably broken. It’s not that you don’t want to fix them, it’s that they can’t be fixed. Other things can be fixed, and they get fixed in time… if and when we are ever ready to handle those broken pieces. Regardless of whether or not they can be fixed, we try to superglue and duct tape the pieces back together anyway. This usually causes deformed shapes.  Honestly, most of the time I wonder if on the inside I’m like the hunchback of Notre Dame, just instead of physically being deformed, my emotions and means of processing the things around me are deformed. These internal deformities cause me all kinds of problems, but this even more compounded when a man is in the mix.

 From what I understand, no one likes to be rejected. You can correct me if I’m wrong, and you either are or know someone who greatly enjoys being rejected, but I have never met anyone who does. This sense of rejection, whether falsely or not, is heightened in the walking wounded. Every little action, behavior, and word is analyzed to death. What did he mean by that? By this? Obviously he’s rejecting me. Whether or not I was really rejected, probably remains to be seen. However, that is how *I* see it. Rejected. Every little slight, perceived and actual, beat down on every chink and hole in my poorly held together emotional state of being. It turns out that a heart held together with duct tape and superglue while missing pieces, has no real defense. Like any good captain though, I remain at the helm. I will go down with my ship.

     You may wonder why a person would allow another in anywhere near the chinks in their armor, if they’re not sure if they’re going to be rejected or not. Valid question. In my experience, it is better to open yourself up to the possibility of pain, then to keep everyone out until they have shown they will not reject you. Besides, they’re humans. Humans hurt humans. That person is going to hurt me eventually, might as well see what they do from the get-go, right?

     I have been up since 8am on Thursday. PTSD triggers have been pulled, and I can’t sleep. I feel insignificant. Unimportant. Unattractive. I want to vanish. It would be great to pack up my bags and just leave. No telling anyone, just leaving. Unfortunately, I can’t. I made a promise to myself that I wouldn’t run anymore. I will face this monstrous beast of laughing insecurity and torturous self-loathing head on. I want to bleed. I am feeling less than human again, and bleeding always serves as a release and reminder that I am human. I will not cave. I will not start a fight, nor will I harm myself. I can’t. I always feel so weak afterwards, like I might as well just concede defeat. There has to be a better way to remember I’m human; to get that release. These ugly things that I am reminded of as this latest episode rolls across my life like a tsunami, pick their way through the holes in my defenses even more, creating huge, gaping holes. I feel so beat up and used. I can’t seem to remember what it feels like to not feel like a broken doll. Again, I torture myself wondering, who the fuck could ever love a woman such as I? A woman who will not be able to love the way she wants to every day, as some days the dissociation is so bad, that I can’t feel a damn thing? I remember that I am supposed to feel something, but I don’t- nor can I be bothered to care that I don’t feel anything. 

     Some days, I can’t help but still wonder if it wouldn’t have been kinder and more humane if he had have just gone all the way and beat me to death. I was so physically changed anyway after he raped and beat me, what would a little bit more have done? I don’t know. Maybe if I could ever get to fucking sleep, I could feel differently. 


“All These Little Rejections, How They Add Up Quickly”

Sometimes it’s an Alanis Morissette day, as she puts into song exactly how I’m feeling. This is one of those days. I’m just incredibly insecure today, and I don’t know why, or what set it off. I wonder, are there always reasons for everything, or do we just sometimes wake up feeling the way we do?

It’s really bad today. The things I used to be able to do or use to help stymie this overwhelming feeling of not being enough to get anyone’s attention, or not even deserving it on multiple levels, aren’t working. Instead, they’re having the reverse effect and making it worse. I’m avoiding several people, websites, things, music, books, and other forms of media. They’re all making it worse. I feel like the people I used to be able to run to, are snubbing me, or verbally backhanding me and affirming this message of “You’re ugly. You’re fat. You’re stupid. You’re worthless. Why do we ever bother with you?”

I feel like when I was 13 again. Having just moved, and not just to another side of town, or another city, or even another state… no, a whole different country. I had to relearn a culture, and it was hard. I was the new girl, but I didn’t dress like them, talk like them, or do a lot of the same things as them. I was different and so was ignored a great deal. Rejected. I know I’m fine. I’m not that different from everyone else, but I still feel that way. I still feel rejected. Not always, but definitely right now.

I don’t even think most of these people know that their behaviors toward me are being taken as rejections. Oh, but they are… I feel so tiny and unimportant, like if I just vanished no one would notice or care. Which is a lie, and I know it. There are some very good, very close and dear to my heart people who would both notice AND care. Head knowledge and heart knowledge are two different things though, and sometimes they contradict each other. I wish sometimes that the people around me could tell when I was feeling like this, and that there was a magic button that I could push that would make it go away. Instead, I just want to curl up into a ball and disappear. I’d say turn invisible, but I fear I’ve already done that. I feel like no one sees me. No one wants to see me.

This whole thing is compounded by another level of insecurity that I CAN name. The one brought on by painful reminders of IK and that night. And maybe both feelings of insecurity are actually one and the same, and the only reason I feel so hurt and wounded is because of the pain and wounds re-opened by the reminders of IK. I feel like I’m constantly in fight or flight mode, and every little slight, imagined or real, is making me flinch when it hasn’t even happened yet. I feel like I did right after the assault, when I’d have to constantly remind myself to brace myself for impact when I’d walk anywhere because I knew I was going to pass by a group of people and they were either going to look at me like I was a whore, or actually say it. Those non-imagined rejections are now fueling my imagined ones and I don’t know how to make it stop. I just want them to stop.

So Unsexy
Alanis Morissette

Oh these little rejections, how they add up quickly
One small sideways look and I feel so ungood
Somewhere along the way, I think I gave you the power to make
Me feel the way I thought only my father could

Oh these little rejections, how they seem so real to me 
One forgotten birthday, I’m all but cooked
How these little abandonments, seem to sting so easily
I’m thirteen again, am I thirteen for good?

I can feel so unsexy, for someone so beautiful
So unloved for someone so fine
I can feel so boring, for someone so interesting
So ignorant for someone of sound mind

Oh, these little protections, how they fail to serve me
One forgotten phone call, and I’m deflated
Oh, these little defenses, how they fail to comfort me
Your hand pulling away, and I’m devastated

I can feel so unsexy, for someone so beautiful
So unloved for someone so fine
I can feel so boring, for someone so interesting
So ignorant for someone of sound mind

When will you stop leaving, baby?
When will I stop deserting, baby?
 When will I start staying with myself?

Oh, these little projections, how they keep springing from me
I jump ship as I take it personally
Oh, these little rejections, how they disappear quickly
The moment I decide not to abandon me

I can feel so unsexy, for someone so beautiful
So unloved for someone so fine
I can feel so boring, for someone so interesting
So ignorant for someone of sound mind. 

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