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Feeling Sad---Son is Homeless
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<blockquote data-quote="Feeling Sad" data-source="post: 703431" data-attributes="member: 19245"><p>Yes, Copa, I am interested in your recipes. Your food sounds wonderful. You sound like a very talented cook.</p><p></p><p>I am wrestling with fear, right now. It helped me greatly to know that I have a friend out there who knows and understands my plight.</p><p></p><p>I am actually very mad at myself for being so petrified. I understand the mechanics of complex ptsd. Yes, I know that it is not my fault that I was traumatized. My mantra to myself these days is it was not my fault, I could not stop it, and I did not deserve it.</p><p></p><p>Yet, I am still mad at myself. I have always been able to achieve anything I strive for. But, this is like trying to help my son...not in my control. I have gone to a multitude of therapy sessions and am very well-read, but alas and alack, I remain petrified.</p><p></p><p>I have tried deep breathing, muscle relaxation, aroma therapy, and many other techniques to no avail. If the trauma was from a family member and repeated over years it makes the ptsd worse.</p><p></p><p>It is very windy. Windy nights are by far the worst. Every little sound...a snap...a creak...a scratch sends my heart racing. I am very disappointed in myself for not being able to control my responses better. I still sleep with almost every light on in the house. i lock my bedroom door. i sleep with the light on. I cannot fall asleep until the wee hours with the light in my face. I do not know what this is supposed to achieve, but it makes me feel a bit better. I guess that I can see who or what is rushing up to get me. Stupid.</p><p></p><p>The attic space just made a sound. I am holding my breath, straining to hear more. Stupid.</p><p></p><p>I know that I am traumatized. It does not help that I have never lived alone my entire life before now. I also believe in some other level of existence after death...spirits, ghosts, passed relatives. This belief is not helping me now. No more scary shows on tv.</p><p></p><p>I hate this. I hate that I have spent my life helping others, and now, in my time of need, I am alone...utterly alone. It is not my children's responsibilty. I have been too depressed to carry on with my life. I am not the same person. I have changed. No more Pollyanna for me. I do not feel that I deserve to have fun when my son is out there some place being tortured by his cruel voices. Yes, I can hear you say that I do not know for sure, but there is a very strong liklihood that it is true.</p><p></p><p>I am just mad. Mad that I can't just snap out of it. It appears that it is going to be life-long. I hate being afraid. I hate missing my son. I hate feeling weak. Some warrior. I should turn my cape in.</p><p></p><p>I did not eat turkey. The tryptophan could have helped...</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Feeling Sad, post: 703431, member: 19245"] Yes, Copa, I am interested in your recipes. Your food sounds wonderful. You sound like a very talented cook. I am wrestling with fear, right now. It helped me greatly to know that I have a friend out there who knows and understands my plight. I am actually very mad at myself for being so petrified. I understand the mechanics of complex ptsd. Yes, I know that it is not my fault that I was traumatized. My mantra to myself these days is it was not my fault, I could not stop it, and I did not deserve it. Yet, I am still mad at myself. I have always been able to achieve anything I strive for. But, this is like trying to help my son...not in my control. I have gone to a multitude of therapy sessions and am very well-read, but alas and alack, I remain petrified. I have tried deep breathing, muscle relaxation, aroma therapy, and many other techniques to no avail. If the trauma was from a family member and repeated over years it makes the ptsd worse. It is very windy. Windy nights are by far the worst. Every little sound...a snap...a creak...a scratch sends my heart racing. I am very disappointed in myself for not being able to control my responses better. I still sleep with almost every light on in the house. i lock my bedroom door. i sleep with the light on. I cannot fall asleep until the wee hours with the light in my face. I do not know what this is supposed to achieve, but it makes me feel a bit better. I guess that I can see who or what is rushing up to get me. Stupid. The attic space just made a sound. I am holding my breath, straining to hear more. Stupid. I know that I am traumatized. It does not help that I have never lived alone my entire life before now. I also believe in some other level of existence after death...spirits, ghosts, passed relatives. This belief is not helping me now. No more scary shows on tv. I hate this. I hate that I have spent my life helping others, and now, in my time of need, I am alone...utterly alone. It is not my children's responsibilty. I have been too depressed to carry on with my life. I am not the same person. I have changed. No more Pollyanna for me. I do not feel that I deserve to have fun when my son is out there some place being tortured by his cruel voices. Yes, I can hear you say that I do not know for sure, but there is a very strong liklihood that it is true. I am just mad. Mad that I can't just snap out of it. It appears that it is going to be life-long. I hate being afraid. I hate missing my son. I hate feeling weak. Some warrior. I should turn my cape in. I did not eat turkey. The tryptophan could have helped... [/QUOTE]
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