..you would cry too, if it happened to you!
This will be a little cryptic as I’m still struggling to process the immediate implications and the long-term, big picture impact.
I’ve been communicating with an estranged family member for a few years now. Today, I took a gamble, tried to ask questions to figure out more.
My instinct said not to go there, that it was the proverbial can of worms. It definitely was. Self-imposed isolation. Pain. Much like a sister of mine.
I talked to my father after I decided to lock the door behind me and to get rid of the key, for now. He told me basically what I already knew, but in a little more detail. This is his older brother’s eldest daughter. I told him yes, she’s preparing to shut everyone out, including him.
What did I ask about? Those of you that know me very, very well should be able to put together some of the pieces. It’s another side of the coin to what triggers me. My pain. But more like a mirror image.
I tried to explain myself, but, I still shut the door- probably getting rid of all of my explanations. Intuition says she’s not ready to hear it. Unfortunate, but, I prepared for it, at least logically, if not emotionally.
It stings like hell. But I had another ace in the hole: the mammalian dive reflex, part of the T.I.P.P. strategy. Invoke the reflex with a cold pack between eyes and cheek bones, bending at the waist, holding my breath for 30 seconds- as if I was diving into icy cold water. I’d read about it before- it’s saved children from drowning in in the same. An evolutionary remnant, the reflex shuts down the body, and in a #DBT context, it forces the body to slow down immediately, overriding the fight/flight/fawn/freeze response. Maybe like a soft reboot- not a hard reboot, like I’ve had when the lights go out, but I stay at home in the back of my mind- if I understand Claire Cappetta just right.
It didn’t work immediately; I’m not sure if I did it perfectly right. But I feel calmer. And what felt like a loss at first- feels more like a victory. I’m one step closer.
Met Muddly Mum by way of a Twitter chat called #BPDChat (@officialBPDChat). I deal with complex PTSD, but I’ve found great relief in Dialectical Behavior Therapy (#DBT), which I found out by way of others in this community. Despite hardships with cPTSD, I too have found a silver lining in the grey cloud. Please read.
*may contain triggers*
I was diagnosed with Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD) in May 2005 after having had a breakdown in November 2004. I was referred to the local Therapeutic Community and after two years at three days a week I was much better. I had two more children, launched my own business and managed my BPD on the whole for nine years. I actually thought I was just a bit low in September and it gradually got worse until after Christmas I started self harming again to try and shut up the noisy intrusive thoughts. I took an overdose about a ten days ago to shut up my head for good. It seemed a logical step at the time! Thank God I’ve not wrecked my liver. So as you can tell it’s tough at the moment. I’ve got through this before and at this moment I feel I could beat…
View original post 201 more words
My father… has embraced this truth. I don’t know how much he remembers himself, but he’s beginning to believe.
From REBLOG: …the father becomes the son. (more thoughts) August 14, 2015:
About a week ago, Cimmorene remembered where she was during my father’s near-death experience, and the weight of the sacrifice that I made to encourage my father to resume his life, so mine could begin.
Anyone who thinks the term “soulmate” is the stuff of cheesy Hollywood romantic fairytales and is nothing but fluff and shiny optimism, I must tell you, dear readers– in my experience, it’s a lie.
It’s true that Cimmorene and I remember a life together before mortality. We remember bonds that have been forged and reforged many times. But for all the light, wonderment, and immense awe, there is sorrow, darkness, and pain. There is anticipation of regret even before the blood, sweat, and tears began.
As usual, she remembered something I did not. She said that for that small moment, it…
View original post 391 more words
Hey guys- my dear wife has volunteered to help Athena Moberg and Bobbi Parish in gathering submissing for an adult (meditative) coloring book, to raise funds for Trauma Recovery University. TRU is an organization dedicated to helping survivors of child sexual abuse. These funds will help make conferences and other resources possible.
Please help spread the word? Please see the following below (and click on the link for more information):
This year, Trauma Recovery University (TRU) is putting together a colo(u)ring book which we intend to sell to raise funds. Cimmy has agreed to be the point of contact for this project. All the ba…
Please also see Boundaries. Trust. To write love on my arms. for a better understanding why The Lines Project is so intensely important to me. Yes, I deal with self-harm. But please, go read, and…
Source: The Lines Project
(re-Pressed with Press This! for those that might be looking for this article on the tao of jaklumen)
It’s been one year and one week- and I’ve found others on Twitter that deal with this, too. NO, it’s not just a teen issue. It’s also not just a female issue. This issue actually knows no gender, age, or other circumstances- anyone can deal with self harm.
Trigger warning: I am about to write about subjects such as self-harm, self-mutilation, co-dependency, emotional enmeshment, and so on. There will be at least one photo. Please, please take care if such things upset you, especially if any of these are issues for you too, dear readers.
Yes, I’m going to write about it, now. Maybe some of you remember To write love on her arms (it’s a short post, so I have included most of it, as follows):
Two years ago, I learned that my daughter turned to cutting to deal with the crushing stress in her life.
She turned to it again two nights ago when Cimmorene lost it with Boy when he would not go to bed for several hours. Cimmy let me know, because she knew I wouldn’t be angry– how could I? I dealt with it myself.
I cut myself years ago…
View original post 817 more words