Trauma and the Core-Self

I’ve decided I’m going to start a book club of sorts for The Body Keeps The Score. Partly because I told a few friends about it and, since it’s heavy reading, reading it together to process it might be more beneficial.  Partly because if I have to suffer, so do others.  It’s a very triggering book for me.   I’ve been taking lots of notes and I’m going to be asking Charon a bunch of questions regarding it.

Like, how do I know what’s the Autism and what’s the PTSD?   There’s so much overlap of symptoms that I don’t know and I’m kind of scared that I don’t even have Autism, it’s all just PTSD and it’s just so drastically changed my brain and stuff that I don’t have any hope of getting better, or being ‘in remission’.

To that extent, on remission, there’s ample evidence that there is no full ‘cure’, just tiny bit better every time.  I’m just… What. No.  I don’t like that.  I mean, I knew that before.  It’s not new news to me.  Charon and I discussed that when I was doing the Exposure Therapy. ( Which, by the way, I’m 99% certain I did absolute shit at because I’ve been increasingly anxious lately and also because I did absolute shit at it.)

I hate this book because it scares me and it makes me sad and it triggers me.  I’m reading it because I need the information it’s providing me.  It’s total bullshit that it’s so triggering, though.  It’s triggering and it’s disheartening to read all these things that are so me, that are so intrinsically me that I would never have guessed that it’s because of the trauma/Trauma I’ve been through.

I feel sad and disheartened and hopeless.  It’s not even like I can blame medications on any of it because I quit the Viibryd and stuff.  What am I supposed to do?  I don’t want to be just this.  I thought I was more.  I thought I was a person that had many different aspects and different things contributing to who they are, not someone whose core self is based on trauma-related coping mechanisms.  How am I supposed to recover from that?  How can I be a better me like this?

For a lot of people with PTSD, life is divided into 2 sections, the Before and the After.  Since my entire life is basically Traumatic events with small reprieves, there’s no real Before, just tiny Breaks.  There’s no baby Sarcastic Autist that was free from abuse or neglect.  Even now, there’s emotional manipulation and abuse from my mum.

And it really gets me because I’ve always been treated this way.  Okay, I used to be treated much worse.  But if I’ve always been treated like I’m not good enough, like I’m worthless and hopeless and useless and a waste of space, if I’ve always been told that, I have a really hard time believing it’s not true.

If someone says they think I’m a good person or that I’m worthy of love and acceptance, my gut reaction is to ask ‘why’.  Even if they give examples, even if they say it’s because everyone is worthy and deserving of love and acceptance, I want to know why me.  I’m not that special.  I get told all the time I’m going to hell, that I’m a pervert, that I choose a lifestyle that goes against God, that I’m wrong for my very existence.  And that’s just for the Gay Enby thing.  It’s not even touching on how I fuck up all the time.

I don’t know.  I just feel a lot right now and I’m having a hard time sorting through it all.  I hate this book.

-The Sarcastic Autist

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migraines and trauma

Yo, you know what sucks? Migraines. Which I have one so I’m typing this on my phone since I don’t have to listen to the clack clack clack of the keys on my computer.

I’m actually starting to think my migraines may be trauma related because there’s a lot of overlap with stress and flashbacks and stuff. I’m rereading the body keeps the score and I remember I hated it because it made me feel sad and hopeless regarding PTSD stuff and my head really started hurting earlier when I was reading it.

Autism and PTSD also share a lot of symptoms and it has me worried that I’ll never truly be able to know what is caused by what. I’ll post a more detailed thing when my head stops feeling so fucked.

Anyway, I just wanted to do the small update since I’m determined to get back into blogging more regularly.

The sarcastic autist

When Does It Get Better?

Greetings!  It’s been a while again.  I don’t even remember when the last time I posted was.  I really want to get back into the habit since it helped me process stuff easier.  Okay, wow, it’s been since August.  I also noticed I hadn’t checked my email in ages and I had a few that were sitting there for months.  I felt horrid.  This is what depression does.

I am unmedicated for that currently.  I’m not planning on going back on the medication anytime soon, either.  I’ve mostly levelled out by this point and I don’t think the medication was helping enough for me to justify going back on it.  I don’t want to be on all these different medications so I’ve been trying to cut some out.  Most of what’s left is for asthma and allergies.  I’m going to be starting a couple for my migraines tomorrow.

I’m still meeting with Cybele and Charon.  Cybele and I are looking into Trans support groups.  I’m having major Imposter Syndrome regarding that.  (Imposter Syndrome being that feeling of not being Turtley enough for the Turtle Club, and yes that is a Master of Disguise reference).  I think I just have this hang-up of being accused of faking it or trying to copy people.

Charon and I are working on DBT stuff mostly.  She wants me to move out on my own.  I do, too.  I also want to work on PTSD stuff a bit more, but no Exposure Therapy.  I’m starting to think I just wasn’t 100% ready and willing the last time.  I need to be more in tune with myself and more… I don’t know.  Just less ill at ease with myself.  I don’t really feel all that safe working on trauma or Trauma stuff right now, living with my mum.  I’m paranoid that she’ll go snooping and find out that I’ve been telling people about what’s happened and she’ll get mad at me and beat me or something.  It’s a bit ridiculous, but that’s what years of abuse will do to your rationality.

I’ve also been working on being able to name my emotions and figure out what I’m feeling since Alexithymia is a shit thing to deal with.  I started out with making emotion flashcards with how the emotion physically feels, something I might say when I’m feeling that, and what situation might cause me to feel that emotion.  I’m now working on transferring what’s on the cards into a notebook for easier reference.  I’m back to working on values and stuff too.  Yay, working on goals!

I made a list of things I don’t like about myself so I can try and rephrase them or rework them to be things I like about myself or at least work on not not liking them.  Does that make sense?  I showed Charon during our session Monday and she said the list was full of very common things people with PTSD have issues with.  Like feeling they aren’t good enough and stuff.  I have to say, that was very disheartening to hear.  I don’t even know why.  I know I still have PTSD stuff.

I guess I was just hoping it wasn’t so prevalent and obvious.   There’s a song called It Gets Better by Todrick Hall.  I was thinking about it today.  It makes me sad because I don’t feel like it’s really getting better.  I know it’s supposed to.  But when?

I’m struggling a lot with the gay and trans thing lately.  My da disowned me because I’m gay and my mum has said that all the bad things that happen because I’m gay or whatever is because I’m not in the church anymore.  Which is bullshit.  I’ll give her points for saying she doesn’t understand how people can disown their child for being gay or trans and she (and even my conservative grandparents) are really upset with my da for doing so.   So, she does get points for that.  No points for making it about herself.  That was kinda lame of her.

Anyway, there was a dude last week at the coffee shop who said he understood why my da would disown me.  He also used dyke and fag a lot.  I have no problem with people in the Queer Community using those words.  It’s like people who aren’t African American saying the ‘n’ word to me.  It really upset me because I’ve had people tell me that I’m going to hell and that I’m a despicable person for my ‘lifestyle’.  I’m used to that.  I’m used to being told that Satan has me in his grasp and all that weird bullshit.  I’ve never been told that my da was right for calling me a disgrace and a dyke and disowning me.  It made me want to cry.  I ended up calling Charon, which I had not done in the 3 years I’ve been seeing her.

I’m doing a bit better on that now.  I’m still sad about it.  I just want things to get better, like the song says it will.

-The Sarcastic Autist

Shame and Sadness on the Rise

I got a new boot-brace Air Walker thingy for my ankle today.  I’m not sure why I can’t just use one of my old ones, but sure, whatever makes the doctor happy.  I also had to pick up some ointment/cream for this weird rash/hives thingy I got going on.  It’s weird.  And annoying.

Not much going on.  I had a funny moment last week in group.  We’re working on Opposite to Emotion Action and I was reading the bit about what you should do to act opposite to shame and I read “tell the secret to people” as “tell the secret people” and now we’re all going “if we feel shame, we gotta call the Illuminati”.  It’s funny.

In all honesty, I’ve been feeling a lot of shame and guilt lately.  I’ve been having issues with flashbacks regarding my parents and upbringing/childhood.  I’ve been working on not so much remembering, but putting my past and experiences into a more ‘normal’ outlook.  I mean, I’m not trying to normalize it, I’m trying to look at it from a normal person’s viewpoint.  To actually stop lying to myself and make it so my brothers and I are all equal parts the victim and realize that, while it sucked all around, I got it a lot worse than them.  Not comparing like “well, I had it worse so STFU” sort of thing, more of a “we may have had shitty upbringings, but at least our parents clearly loved you” sort of thing.

Which, you know, thinking about, makes me sad.  I was reading this thing the other day about how Queer Folk (those LGBT+) are worried about coming out because they worry their parents’ love is conditional and a few other commenters and I  said that we never worried about our parents’ love being conditional because we already knew it was.  We more worried about getting physically punished for it or getting kicked out or something, but not the love thing because we knew we weren’t loved already.  That hurt me in my heart.

And then, with the inspections last week, I was reminded again about how crappy my mum treats me.  She treats me a lot better, but she still treats me like shit, like a slave.  She hardly ever talks about me to people unless it’s to belittle or embarrass me.  But last week, when I was busting my butt to make the place presentable, she would complain about not feeling good and I ended up doing like, 95% of the work.  It pissed me off and made me sad and I’m just glad she didn’t get physical with me again.  I was worried about that.

I’ve been having a lot more flashbacks lately.  I’m not even doing anything too triggering.  I’m embarrassed because I got triggered in therapy yesterday because there was yelling and then it sounded like a huge bang like someone hitting something or kicking something.  It made me really anxious.  Charon knew something was up (probably knew I just got triggered) so she distracted me.  Tried to, anyway.  I was on high alert for hours after.  That really bothered me.  I don’t like being like that.

Anyway, that’s all I really have to say for right now.  I hope you are all doing okay.

-The Sarcastic Autist

Drop Bears

Mother. Fucking. Drop. Bears.

Let’s recap: Drop Bears are these koala looking mother fuckers who live in Australia.  They are vicious shits, big as a jaguar (the car or the animal, it depends on who you ask).  They kill you by dropping out of trees onto you.  They’ll eat your friggin face off.  Legit, why does everything in Australia want to kill you?  Why does Australia even exist?

At least Drop Bears don’t.  They’re this thing Australians made up to fuck with tourists.  Totally sounds like they could be a real thing, though, right?  Because fucking Australia.

I use Drop Bears to understand the Check the Facts thing in DBT.  We’re covering it right now.  Emotion Regulation.  Charon said that in her many years of teaching DBT, the Drop Bear analogy that I came up with is the best thing she’s ever heard of for Check the Facts.

When she told me that, it made me feel very proud and happy.

Anyway, Checking the Facts, for me, means checking for Drop Bears.  Is this a thing that is really a thing, or is it a thing that I only think is a real thing, but isn’t.  Drop Bear Check.

I was just really proud of that.  I’ve been having a good week with making other people’s lives a bit better.  I have a friend who got dumped 2 weeks before her wedding and she said she appreciates how I send her random wholesome memes and my other friend whose birthday party I’ve gone to a few times said he appreciates how helpful I’ve been to him.  It’s been a good week for that.  I feel very proud of myself for being able to help others.  It makes me feel useful.

Also, I got hives and I don’t know what from.  It’s on both thighs on the outside and on the inside of my right knee.  I am itchy.

I got Reapers.  The hottest known pepper.  I’m so excited to be able to cook with them.  I haven’t yet since I’m dead tired from group still.  I’m going to make chili tomorrow and I’m going to make tamales and stuff on Friday using some left over chili for some filling.  I like my pressure cooker.

I am ashamed that I’ve been having nightmares and flashbacks again of the Thing.  Of the rape.  I really don’t understand why it’s that particular instance that gets to me.  It wasn’t the first time I’d been assaulted.  It wasn’t the last time I was assaulted.  I thought I’d been good enough done by now, you know?

I hadn’t been wanting to say anything to anyone because I feel like a failure for it.  I mean, it’s not just the Thing either, it’s all of it.  The more I’m untangling the total shitfest that was my upbringing, the more I’m realizing how much of the bullshit I’ve gone through has affected me.

I just went though some of my old blog posts.  Amazing.  I love seeing how I’ve evolved over the years.

Anyway, I’m gonna go ahead and say this is done for now, since I can’t seem to stay on task very well at the moment.

Thank you for your time.

-The Sarcastic Autist

Prescriptions, Pressure Cookers, and Packers

Okay, I’m mostly off the Viibryd, just taking 5 mg every few days to keep the brain zaps from being debilitating.

I’m doing a lot better than I was the other day.  Honestly, if I didn’t have the brain zaps, I’d say my mood is only slightly more depressed than usual.  Treatment Resistant Depression y’all.

I’m getting a pressure cooker.  And an epilator.  I don’t know when the epilator is coming, but the cooker should be here Monday.  I got so many plans for it.  Mostly involving rice, because holy shit, guys, I cannot cook rice.  I got like, 10 lbs of rice and I always end up with this soggy, crunchy bullshit.  I don’t know what I’m doing wrong.  I always follow the instructions to the dot.

I’m looking into packers.  For those who don’t know, packers are penis things.  Transmen like to use them sometimes.  There are a lot of different types, but the ones I’m looking at are the basic ones that just give you a bit of a bulge.  The other kind I want is STP, stand to pee.  So I can stand to pee.  Which is 90% of why I want a penis in the first place.  So I don’t have to put my butt on a dirty toilet seat.

I just kinda wanted to let you all know I’m not dead and I have very comfy pants I’m wearing.

-The Sarcastic Autist

Laundry Anger

I woke up early because I need to do laundry and I don’t like being out when there are people in the office since the office is right by the laundry room.  The fucking machines kept denying my card.  I tried my mum’s card too.  Denied.  Except they still took over $20 dollars from my account since I kept trying to use my card because I’m a dumb ass.  I called and left a message for them, since their service hours are from 8 am to 10 pm.  You would think they would have someone on call for this sort of bullshit.

Let me tell you, I got really fucking pissed.  The machine said that my card was denied, so why the fuck was money taken off?

Anyway, since I’m still a bit upset and I have therapy later and I have 12 minutes until I can call and try to work this thing out without resorting to chargebacks on my card, I figured I could blog a bit.  Also, yay, officially at 100 followers even!  That makes me happy, thank you!

I’ve been having a lot of thoughts about quitting therapy.  I’m in DBT to have a “Life Worth Living” and right now, I don’t feel like my life is worth living.  Please don’t take that the wrong way, I am not suicidal in any way.  Mostly not suicidal.  I wish I didn’t exist, but I am not going to hurt myself in any way, shape, or form.  At least not intentionally.

I just feel so worthless and obnoxious and, if we’re being completely honest here, I don’t feel like I deserve a better life.  I feel like I’m just a waste of space and air and there are so many other people that deserve my spot in existing.

I’m also angry and I feel like no one is listening to me when I try to tell them stuff.  I’ve stopped trying to explain things to Charon and Cybelle to get help with stuff in therapy.  I don’t feel like it’s really worth the effort explaining myself when they are just so fucking firm in the belief that their way is the best way and therefore the only way I should be working on things.  I’m sick of saying “no, you don’t understand”.

I feel like no one really cares anymore.

-The Sarcastic Autist

Misbehaviour

Okay, I’m down to 10 mg of Viibryd.  I’m tapering slowly instead of just going cold turkey, but I still get the withdrawals.  They just aren’t as bad as they would be if I just quit.

I’ve been struggling with wanting to quit therapy too.  For a multitude of reasons, number one being that I don’t feel like I’m accomplishing anything.  I know for a fact that I feel like that because I’m going off my meds and because I feel like a failure anyway.  It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure that one out.  Maybe if I stopped being a douche and took my meds and acted normal, I could get this shit together, you know?

Something I do that upsets me about myself is that, anytime I’m in a new situation where I get super anxious, I act out.  Not like yelling or throwing shit or anything like that, but it’s like my ability to regulate my mouth and behaviour gets thrown out the window.  I have no filter and I behave obnoxiously, especially when I meet new people.  It happens just once, where I act like a complete douche-canoe the first time.  After that, I go back to being mostly chill.  I don’t know how to tell anyone that it’s because I don’t trust new people and I’m bombarded with new sounds and visuals and smells and stuff from them and I get to somehow incorporate that into the stuff I’m already being assaulted with sensory wise, as well as my “if I joke around, maybe they won’t hate me” attitude.  Which is totally counterproductive, because my behaviour is obnoxious, not endearing, much as I’d like to pretend otherwise.

The other thing is, I just really hate myself.  I wish I was dead.  I also don’t want to be dead or to kill myself or to really hurt myself in anyway, I just wish I didn’t exist.  Okay, sometimes I want to cut myself or make myself throw up, but I don’t so those don’t count.  While I’m not 100% sure why I suddenly feel this way, besides feeling unloved and unwanted because of the break-up (which is 100% fucking stupid as shit of me), I just have been having so many nightmares and everything is so hard lately.  I legit just want to give up.

We just moved into Emotion Regulation in DBT.  I’m going to consider talking to Charon and Cybelle about my desire to quit therapy.  I don’t know what’s up with me.

-The Sarcastic Autist

Being Shit

I haven’t heard from Flapjack in a week now.  She’s been completely blowing me off and ignoring me.  I would understand it more if she was ghosting me, but she hasn’t blocked me on anything.  Oh well.

Despite knowing that it’s a terrible idea, I’ve decided to taper myself off my Viibryd.  I don’t want to be on it anymore.  It could be because I feel like my life is out of control and one of the first things I do when I need to feel control is decide to stop/start medications.  It could be because I don’t want to feel anything and when I was off anti-depressants, I was numb most of the time.  It could be because I’m fucking pissed off because I’m still sad and depressed so why am I even taking it?  What’s the point?

I don’t like feeling like this.  I feel lost and forgotten.  I feel like no one really cares about me.  Legit, my mum only talks to me or gets me stuff or does stuff for me when it benefits her.  I don’t think she truly loves me.  It’s hard to explain to people because they see her as a parent who lets their kid mooch off them and she’s so great for that and everything.  Really, she just… I don’t know how to describe it.   Every conversation turns into being about her.  Everything is about her.  She tries to paint herself as someone who goes without so much and sacrifices so much for her kids but it’s so blatantly not true.  She spends around $100 on candy alone each month.  She pays for top tier internet and for a lot of World of Warcraft accounts and all this other stuff that isn’t ‘necessity’ and then she complains about how she doesn’t have money for food or clothes or shoes or anything.

At least my da was straight up in saying that I didn’t deserve stuff and he needed booze and drugs more than I needed clothes or food.  I’ll give him that.

I’ve gained weight and also I’m bloated.  I really need to get back on a proper diet and exercise plan.  I am to the point where I just ignore the pain unless it’s really bad.  I have zero fucks to give.

I’ve had more thoughts about cutting and purging lately.  I haven’t, because then I would have had to tell my therapists and I don’t want to deal with that bullshit right now.  So many obvious symptoms that I’m not in a good place that I’m just refusing to acknowledge to people.

I hardly ever want to actually leave the house.  I’m messing with my medication without talking to my doctor first.  I’m being irritable with people.  I’m not able to sit and read a book because my concentration has been shit.  I call myself names and I see myself as a fatter fuck than I really am.  I’m still a fat fuck, just not as fat a fuck as I would have myself believe.  I feel worthless, trivial, unimportant.  I feel alone and I want to cry.

I don’t know.  I hate myself and wish I was dead.  I’m not in danger of hurting myself or anything, because if I truly thought I was, I would tell someone.  I promised I would.

I just feel like a piece of shit.

-The Sarcastic Autist

Butterfly

I’m waiting for my homemade pizza bagels to cool and for my diet Dr Pepper to finish getting cold in the freezer.  I thought I would check in.

I’m doing better.  I’m no longer in that dark place I was in this weekend.  I’m still sad we broke up, but I’m not depressed.  It’s kind of funny, I keep imagining myself saving every penny I possibly can and going over to see her and winning her back.  That’s a terrible mindset to have.

When I do see her, I want to see her and at least be able to enjoy myself as friends, not just an ex pining after her.  I know how uncomfortable that can make people and I don’t want to do that to her.

I accept that I can have inside pain and still manage to be happy.  I saw a butterfly on my walk today.  Something about that butterfly just triggered a deep sense of Zen.

I deserve happiness.  I deserve to be treated well.  I deserve love.  I am worthy.

If I say it enough times, it becomes true, right?

-The Sarcastic Autist