r/CPTSDWriters

Books read in the beginning:
John Bradshaw Healing The Shame That Binds You", On: The Family
Paul T. Mason - Stop Walking On Eggshells
Alice Miller - Drama Of The Gifted Child
Marie-France Hirigoyen - Moral Harassment

Their books opened my eyes before I could even name any single emotion besides anger. I was deep in dissociation.
From their research and reports, I started to use journaling as an outlet for my head full of thoughts. It didn't have to make sense at first, it just had to go out of my mind, somewhere else.
The next step was me writing down my behaviours from some situations that bothered me on a day they happened. It didn't have to be connected to the books at first, my first person description and my questions it produced was enough.
After some time, I concentrated more on the knowledge that started to 'sit'. Their theories and experience with other patients described in the respective books made me try to connect the patterns onto my life.
At first, nothing much was happening, but I didn't quit(the best technique). After some time of being persistent and wanting to write it better, more coherent, more correct, the emotions in me, by writing the journal entries somewhat right, started to move. The 'somewhat right' was just enough so my brain can catch a grip of what's happening to my body. -that was me catching a "hit"
A 'hit' is when an emotion actually wants to go 'out' and I have to feel it to help myself. Feeling the emotion connected to the narrative I've written in my journal was at first only discharge. Some of the behaviours returned later. It frustrated me, but then I've read in one of the Bradshaw's books about corrective experience.
Later, when I found another 'hit' from my journaling, I applied the corrective experience technique. It's actually letting yourself feel the 'hit' emotions as fully as I was ready to, but with being aware of the event in your memory that started the 'hit' in the first place and apply your adult knowledge to change the verdict from the original one to the 'adult', knowledgeable one.

Journaling was my outlet, to some of you it might be something else or even some other technique. Not taking away anything from the meds, this was done without medications, on sobriety. This was my way and it doesn't have to help you. But it's worth trying if you didn't alredy.

Hope you're all well.

“18 months”

It’s been 556 days since you read my words, felt my wrath through verbiage most procured. Thoughts most absurd. Images most obscured.

I said my piece and blew with the wind. Never heard, seen, felt again.

But I see you.
You adorn my nightmares.
You interrupt my thoughts.
You distort my imagination.

But slowly you’re fading.
No longer parading.

I saw you on film.
The whole lot of you.
The core of my life.
The keepers of my memories.
The betrayers of my being.

I feel the tension in which you’re immersed.
I hear the silence you all sit in.
I see the ways in which you stare.
Despairingly, hidden, angrily, dumbfounded, confused, and lost.

You all have me on your mind.
Quietly looming over you in darkness.
An unrecognizable feeling, unsettling you, distressing you.
It’s me.
It’s the feeling of your betrayal. How it festers in you I need not care. You can feel it as anger towards me. Or think the delusion that this predicament is my fault.
Feel what lie comforts you.
I need not your blankets of insecurity.
I live, breathe, and feel reality.
You’re engulfed in oppression.

I feel warmth from the sun.
You deny its existence.

Let your thoughts wonder and ponder the past. The nostalgic family we were. The love, care, presents, actions, words. Look at them through her distortion, her narrative, their abuse.

Parents of grandiose nature that hindered our self for their gain.
Crumbled our life to build up their palace.

But look at us now. I’m standing outside your decrepit fort; outside the floundering family.
Breathless you still find yourselves from reading my words.
Mindless words still dribble from her lips.

I speak in truths while ya’ll live in lies.
I found my self while y’all sending spies.
I’m living my life while ya’ll’s withers and dies.