Tuesday, March 26, 2024

If I could describe narcissistic abuse CPTSD in a word it would be...

Hello my friends of this blog on how I lost 100 pounds without gastric bypass, which is fast becoming about how I'm detoxing from toxic shame. The past few weeks here have been a bumpy ride of realizations, confessions, apologia, aha moments and of things falling into place about the abuse I've experienced throughout my life with four parents (two steps). I've written much about the narcissistic abuse, manipulation, exploitation, neglect, abandonment, parentification and the gaslighting about all of it and the ensuing CPTSD, by four dangerously narcissistic parents. 

Since this is a stream of consciousness blog, I'm writing as I'm feeling it, unpacking it, etc. I might sound as if I'd known about this all along. But this is in real time, folks. You're reading these realizations and new perspectives as they are happening. It is mind-boggling bordering on blowing. I'm as shell-shocked now as I was as a kid when it was occurring. Only the good news, I'm an adult in loving relationships, not a young child alone with only four raging, delusional narcissists for reference. 

And am not even writing this blog, at this point to help anyone else. If you're getting something from it, if it resonates, that's good and I hope it's helpful. But this is entirely for me. You may be wondering, uh, what if these people read these blog? You've said some incendiary stuff. That I have, mate. But I just can't worry about that. If he or she does, well, maybe they needed to. I'm not writing it for the purpose of them reading but I'm not caring if they do. 

And just saying, if they did read and decide to confront me about it, know that we would not be having conversations on their terms anymore. No more opportunities to gaslight and lie and backpeddle and shift blame and marginalize and dismiss. No more chances to blow smoke up my ass. The little girl they did that to is in safe hands now. She is in the custody of someone who loves and believes her. That would be adult me. So IF I did (huge if) agree to discuss it, it would be on MY terms.  But I don't foresee that happening because I'm nowhere near ready. 

And this is why this blog is for me. (You are welcome to take what, if anything you need from it) This is such uncharted territory that I'm just taking it as it comes. You may say, then why do you need to go public. I need my story to be heard. I need to validate that girl stuck alone in Newago and Alaska and Muskegon and Grand Haven and Spring Lake. Sleeping with the babies, having nothing of her own, being hungry and cold, be made to be the adult and comfort and do the work for, the adults. That God is disappointed in her. That rules are for her but not others. Being scapegoated into thinking that she is the cause of everyone's problems and everyone would be better off if she was dead. 

I need to help her. I need to comfort her and tell her she's right about what happened and that it was wrong. They are wrong. They are not God. And God loves her. Even if it didn't feel like anyone did or cared. There are large parts of me trapped in those places and times and feelings that I need to release. She needs to know that these bars do not exist anymore. And I need feedback about these things from others. I may sound convinced, sure of myself, etc. But I'm not. I was indoctrinated into thinking that I was too broken to sort it for myself and that I needed others to tell me what to think, do, be and feel. 

But now I know that they had a vested interest in keeping me enslaved to their doctrine. Who else was going to sleep with the babies at night? Surely not their parents! Who else was going to fix dad and mom and their girlfriend and boyfriend? Who else was going to do the work to keep the family going? Who else was going to do the heavy lifting to make their every hare-brained scheme work? 

So to get to the title of this post, if I could describe the feeling that this narcissistic abuse caused, if I could identify the key emotion of CPTSD, in a word it would be...Well, let's look at this like a detective. Let's round up the usual suspects. Was it guilt? Yeah there was a lot of that. But now I'm getting that guilt is merited while shame is not. So maybe it's toxic shame? Yup lots of that. Not the biggest one thought. 

How about dismissed, scapegoated, unimportant, confused, yep, all boxes ticked. Also nervousness because I was not prepared for the situations I was thrust  into. I was only given wrong teaching and bad examples. Mostly, I got no social cues and what I did get was skewed.  So I looked like a bit of an idjit trying to assimilate. So yeah, feeling left out, like a misfit and weird annoyance, tick, tick, tick. 

But that's still not the biggest feeling. And that is. FEAR. TERROR! Panic! Abject, nauseating, craven horror, like all the furies of hell pursuing. Frightened to let up, to slow down, to put the other foot down. Fear that creeps around trying like hell not to wake the Kraken Fear that makes my face a cadaveric grin. Terror like the shell-shocked leer of WW1 soldiers. Terror that had looked into the abyss, at Medusa. at the beast. 

Fear that keeps you rigidly frozen and  radio silent, holding your breath lest the circling Nazi shark subs hear you. Fear of the little animal when the predator is around. So what was I afraid of? I can't yet articulate. I've been unable to pry my hands off my eyes and look at what I'm so pervasively afraid of. 

Of being disbelieved? Ignored? Shamed? Dismissed? Abused? Mocked? Harassed? Beat? Molested? Nah. Been there done those. Child's Play. It's something deeper and it has driven my every thought and move since childhood through to being a senior. It did have to do with awakening wrath in parents. That was NOT SAFE. Remember Credence from "Fantastic Beasts" and his all-consuming rage? My step-father and father could show him a thing or two. And when it came to seething, vengeance that was my mom and dad's wife. Think a love child of Damien (Omen) and Regan. 

But yet, my fear also had to do with that parenting concern of not making your child feel bad (only in a sick, toxic, parentified way). I did not want to upset or hurt my parents because I could see that they were all vulnerable. I'd heard (and been gaslit) by weaponized stories of their "abuse" and "trauma." I use quotes because weaponized as it was, I don't know how much was just a cover for balls-out bullying. 

My parents were my gaolers, controllers and basically God-heads and tormentors. But in some weird way, also my children that I had to care for. My mother has told my children that "sometimes I need your mommy to be my mommy." And as a parent my actual kids, I've been terrified to cause any pain or hurt to them.  That is good parenting and normal feeling. And which of course I have sometimes failed to do, and for which I take full responsibility. 

But in the case of my parents, this was happening when I was young (beginning so early that I can't remember when I didn't feel so protective and responsible.) I can't remember when I didn't feel the role reversal of me as parent and them as child. This was encouraged and expected of me. They were autocratic, uncaring parents to me but expected me to be all-loving, forgiving and nurturing to their every need, want and emergency. And believe you me, they were always in crisis. I grew a flashing siren on the top of my  head like an appendage. 

So there's clearly a lot more on this topic but I need a break. Love ya'll

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