by Band Back Together | May 11, 2016 | Adult Bullying, Bullying, Child Abuse, Child Neglect, Emotional Abuse, Narcissistic Personality Disorder, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Workplace Bullying |
Hi, The Band! Thanks for offering this site.
I am trying to wrap my head around what is currently happening in my life, in the hopes of gaining some guidance and support here. And perhaps someone else will gain, at the very least, the notion that they are not alone in their suffering.
I broke up with a narcissist three years ago, and had no other choice but to move in with my mother. From the frying pan into the fire. I knew at some point in my life I would have to deal with the root cause of my issues, and have gone at it pretty much full bore, but continue to experience bullying situations again and again that leave me stymied. I know, “what we resist persists,” so I must have a lot of baggage to unload, since I feel I am trying my best. At least I am more aware of what’s going on as I become healthier.
I suffer from PTSD and perhaps that’s part of it. I also live in America and work in a very competitive profession. I am very good at what I do, and that again, may be part of the problem. I don’t know how to play the game, and I stick out like a sore thumb. I am very good at moving beyond crisis to get myself more on track.
I lived and supported my Mother for a year before moving on with my own life. New jobs, new town, new friends, but nothing seems to be working out. It’s like the trauma has reduced me to a little child, who knows no defense and was not defended back then. Things keep getting worse.
I was recently fired from a job, and I believed …no, I know it was because I took the means to stand up to my bullying boss. The Human Resources Department is not there to protect you, but rather to protect the company. I am fighting it, but it’s so demoralizing. I was an exemplary employee, and hence, a threat to someone highly insecure, who abused his power.
This happened after a year-long struggle with a therapist who ended up being equally inconsistent in her connection with me, and sometimes outright abusive. My longtime therapist had retired, and again, I fell into the fire, and perhaps because I was still in crisis, not reading red flags soon enough. I did get out on my own and found a better therapist, who I continue to see.
Throughout all of this, I have tried to take care of myself. Meditating, using body healing modalities to release my frozen trauma, exercising, etc. I know that this kind of work can dredge up long-seated problems, and in my case, child abuse and neglect, but this dark night of the soul is taking its toll on me. This might be what happens when you were not allowed to develop a sense of self way back when, but instead were an instrument for others getting their needs met.
The key here is that I do have an authentic self, a connection with my soul, so to speak. It was tucked away, and I’m trying to integrate it into my life. It is a gift and a curse. I have a bullshit meter a mile deep, but I don’t know how to live with all I see. I am the child who saw the emperor with no clothes on, and keeps getting beaten down. Maybe it’s my desire to individuate, and standing at that bridge, outside of the cave, I am stuck, too afraid to take the next step. I want so badly to get there, but it seems like I was given no ego support for such growing up, that I am scared as hell.
But I know I will do it.
It’s hard being a sensitive, empathic person in this world we currently live in. Pressures are greater, and those who chose narcissistic behavior are freaking out- perhaps the old rules aren’t working. I need to have faith that, as I slough off these abusive entities, that my true self will emerge from the ashes.
by Band Back Together | Apr 22, 2016 | Borderline Personality Disorder, Dissociative Identity Disorder, Histrionic Personality Disorder, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Self Injury, Suicide |
Mental Illnesses are prevalent in our world. They greatly affect not only the individual involved, but the people around them. In the month of April, we focus our spotlight on Mental Health, in order to heal together and break down stigmas.
We want your stories. How has your own, or someone else’s mental illness affected your life? How are you rising above stigmas?
Please share your stories with us during the month of April.
As it stands, my story isn’t on this website. That’s because I’m not quite ready to go into it. What is relevant right now is that I’m the newest host in my body’s Dissociative Identity Disorder (DID) system. I’ve been here for almost a year.
All I’ve really succeeded in was coming to terms with all of the mental stuff we didn’t want to admit to before. Like DID, Borderline Personality Disorder, Histrionic Personality Disorder, Avoidant Personality Disorder, Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, and the fact that the shadow people are actually hallucinations (among with other fun psychosis things). That’s a lot to tackle, and the fact that we’re still here makes me feel proud.
I’m both 21 years old and 11 months old. I was thrown into a breakdown where the former host isolated themselves from all but one of their trusted friends. I’ve gotten into a relationship with said friend, and he is the kindest soul I’ve ever (virtually) met. He supports me and makes me feel like I am not completely drowning.
I’m working on freelancing to save up to go back to school (they flunked out of college and now I’m here, aware of most of my limitations and certain to make sure that we succeed this time).
It’s almost been a year, a year of preparation for our lives. A year of learning about myself and my headmates. It’s been a fucking miserable mess of a year, one with lots of breakdowns, self harm, and suicidal thoughts 24/7. But I think I’m going to make it.
I want us to make it.
by Band Back Together | Feb 11, 2016 | Bullying, Date/Acquaintance Rape, Fear, Guilt, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Rape/Sexual Assault, Sexual Coercion, Sexually Transmitted Infection, Teen Rape |
I’m really confused and need some direction. I feel so empty and feel as though this is all my fault and as if I’m to blame. Someone please help me. My friend and I had been drinking, mind you A LOT, and I had been flirting with this guy, and I said he could come over and kiss me, harmless right? At least I thought it was. He came over and we were hanging out, the three of us, and eventually we kissed, but things were getting weird as he kept trying to get me to drink more and more even though I felt horrible and everything was spinning.
Every time I would look away he’d pour more vodka in my drink. He was completely sober, he hadn’t had a single sip of alcohol. I was laying on the ground and I remember him saying they’d have to put me to bed soon, at some point I was puking and I said I had to go lay down and I think I said if anyone wanted to join me they could (this is something where I feel like is my fault, like I was asking for it, but I just didn’t want to be alone). I was in the middle of putting pajamas on and he came into my room, this is where things get really blurry, I was not feeling well at all. I remember he sat on the bed and I think I sat on his lap and we kissed a bit and then we were laying down, I remember he kept trying to touch me and I kept saying no, I don’t remember how many times I said no, but I know it was multiple.
Eventually I just gave up, this is where I don’t remember how my pants came off. I remember his shirt coming off eventually, but I think he’d already put it in me by then, I remember it hurt so bad. I knew I didn’t want to have sex with him, especially without a condom, I just wanted it to be over with. The thing that bugs me is I don’t know how my pants got off. I remember just laying there taking it and when he told me to turn over I did in hopes that it would be done quicker. Then I blacked out for awhile, the last thing I remember is him laughing about how “tired” I was. I’m pretty sure I had fallen asleep.
I got dressed as soon as I could and went down stairs to my two friends, as one had come over, and he stayed for another hour. I just tried to stay away from him as something felt off. I remember him making comments about how he should fuck me and my friend and I just felt sick. I kissed him goodbye because I felt obligated, texted him the next day, but now he’s blocked off everything and something inside me just isn’t right anymore.
by Band Back Together | Oct 26, 2015 | Adult Children of Narcissistic Parents, Bipolar Disorder, Child Abuse, Child Sexual Abuse, Grief, Loss, Murder, Narcissistic Personality Disorder, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder |
I had a younger aunt that was like a sister to me.
My sophomore year in college, I took her on spring break with me. When I moved out of state, and I would come home to visit, I didn’t stay at my parents, I would stay at her house. We were that close.
Then it all was gone. I got a call from my mother at 1AM one morning and my world stopped.
My aunt had been brutally tortured, murdered.
She was gone.
Murder brings out intense emotional reactions.
The emotional pain and anguish of murder seem unbearable. I feel an overwhelming sense of loss and deep, deep sorrow. I constantly experience thoughts about the circumstances of her death.
I relieve what I think happened and I see her being tortured and killed. I imagine the pleas for her life she was making.
Grieving for a murder victim is unlike any other grief. The murder of a loved one results in the survivors grieving not only the death, but how the person died.
I have intrusive visualizations of the murder and I see her suffering. I have flashbacks of the moment when I was notified of her death. I have flashbacks of the last time I saw her alive.
I dream of her knocking at my door and, when I open it, I see her, and she tells me, “It was a mistake! It wasn’t me.”
I never got to see her dead body, so I think part of me has denial about her gruesome death.
Her life was cut short through an act of sick cruelty. The disregard for human life adds overwhelming feelings of anger, distrust, injustice, and helplessness to the normal sense of loss and sorrow. Sometimes, I cry like I am never going to stop.
I don’t think a person can rebound from this.
I have suffered lots of childhood abuse, both childhood sexual abuse and childhood emotional abuse. I suffer from bipolar disorder and PTSD. My mother has narcissistic personality disorder.
I’ve got my hands full, but dealing with a murder is a baffling head game.
I don’t think I will ever come to terms with it.
by Band Back Together | Sep 10, 2015 | Anger, Anxiety, Anxiety Disorders, Coping With Anxiety Disorders, Fear, How To Cope With Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Stress, Trauma |
I’m still seeing the therapist for Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, but I am also seeing a Crystal therapist as well, every other week. (I can’t even begin to explain this – but if you’re curious – Google Crystal Sessions, Alexander Method, Natural Shock Healing or dark magic…er, scratch that…that won’t help.)
Unfortunately, there are still days when I can tell it isn’t gone. I’m not sure what I thought, but I think it was something like ”This Shit Will Be Over By Summer, RIGHT?”
Sometimes something as simple as a favorite TV show – (Brothers & Sisters to be exact) can send me into a full-blown anxiety attack – and push the reality of a tragedy back into my life as fast as I had swept it under the rug. And don’t underestimate me, I am pretty damn good as pushing dirt under rugs. Just ask my husband…
::Can I just take a slick city minute to say to the writers of Brothers & Sisters…whoa. I think you got your point across. As I stood on my back patio gasping for air and bawling my eyes out, I realized you people need to find hobbies. Something other than thinking of ways to make innocent, crazy, stressed-out TV addicts freak the hell out. ::steps off my soapbox::
Back to my point.
I am happy to report that there are days that go by where I feel like life is back to normal. There are moments in time where I feel myself forgetting about the fear.
Here recently, I’ve had several people ask what exactly my “bad days” look like? So, I thought I’d take a moment and explain what it feels like to always think the bottom is about to fall out.
Because really, that’s what it boils down to for me. I have days where I can pretend like bad things happen to other people. But, those days creep in, where I can’t help but think that too much time has passed between “bad things happening to me” and I am due.
There really is only one moment of every.single.day (approximatey 7:50 a.m. Nice way to start the day, eh?) that really has be stumped.
I pull into the school parking lot and I feel my heart begin to beat just a tad bit faster…and then my mind starts to race…and then my breaths become faster…and I pretend to be cool as a cucumber (whatever that means) and say goodbye to my son, I kiss him, I hug him and I watch him as he walks through the front doors. Slowly, I pull out of the drop off lane and I pull into a parking spot.
There – every single day, I have a brief panic attack. Without fail.
I am used to it now. Really, I am.
The tears only last about a minute or two. I regroup, adjust my eyeliner and go about my business. Ready to take on the world. It’s not as bad as it used to be. But, the thoughts are still there. I still think,
”Was that the last time I will ever kiss his warm cheek? “
“Was that the last time I ever see him alive?”
“Will someone come into the school today with a gun? Is this the day?”
And then I tell myself that I can’t let this fear control me. I can’t let Satan in my life, in my thoughts & in my heart. I push my fears aside every morning and I stop and thank God that I just watched my happy, healthy son, walk into school on two legs, with some pep in his step. I thank my lucky stars. And I continue my commute.
And even though this still happens every morning, the effect it has on me is shortening. And I know that this isn’t going to define me, control me or even cross my mind in the future. I may never be the same as I was prior to July 19, 2009, and that’s okay. I would dare to say that I am not supposed to be.
But, I can tell you that PTSD may linger with me the rest of my life, but it will not present itself every day. I know that. And that gives me hope.
by Band Back Together | Aug 31, 2015 | Anger, Anxiety, Faith, Family, Fear, Guilt, How To Cope With Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Self Loathing, Stress, Trauma |
Guilt can be a deadly weapon.
This is her story:
I’ve never talked about it…to anyone but a therapist. And, I have never said anything on my own blog about it. But personally, I think a blog that allows you to declare you are “Not Mommy of the Year” is the place to do it, right?
I carry a lot of guilt, dating back to July 19, 2009.
You see, I allowed my son – my first born & my pride & joy, ride and sometimes even drive a golf cart. That cart – it almost took his life.
I’ll pause here and let that sink in for a moment…
I knowingly allowed my son to operate and ride in a motorized vehicle that was not a) safe b) age appropriate or c) SAFE. What kind of mom does that?
Our children rely on us for many things. But one of the key things they rely on us for is safety. And, if they can’t rely on us, who can they rely on?
What kind of mother looks the other way as grandpa and son drive by (at a speed that is slightly faster than I would prefer for myself) in a golf cart, of all things.
And, this wasn’t your average golf cart. It was as suped up machine, with larger than normal wheels and a tow package. And my son, he isn’t just a normal son. He’s MY son.
I have cried a thousand tears. And made a thousand promises. And worried years of my life away since July 19. I have spent countless hours lying in bed with him, rubbing his hair and praying softly as he slept.
I have prayed for forgiveness. For healing. For peace.
And yet, I still don’t feel like I have paid for my sins.
I can still remember hearing the helicopter circle overhead and thinking – I could have prevented this. Let me be the first to tell you – there is nothing more painful to your heart than to think that you could have prevented your own child’s pain. his bloodshed. his near death.
And you didn’t.
I failed him.
I failed him in my most important duty as a mother. I failed to protect him.
This is the single most prominent factor holding me back from healing. And I know that. And, it is something I continue to work on.
Because, you see…I carry guilt with me.
I carry it in my heart.
And I see it everyday.
