tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3068056247569686728.post8093372109124862075..comments2023-03-20T04:02:00.443-04:00Comments on A mile in her shoes: I wish someone had told me sooner . . .Samantha Shantihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10586759980410037672noreply@blogger.comBlogger4125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3068056247569686728.post-4418323955345886932009-11-13T19:53:36.085-05:002009-11-13T19:53:36.085-05:00Sorry it took so long for me to reply Melissa, it ...Sorry it took so long for me to reply Melissa, it wasn't you, I just go through periods where I pull away from the machine.<br /><br />SamSamantha Shantihttps://www.blogger.com/profile/10586759980410037672noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3068056247569686728.post-51670209827172745622009-11-13T19:52:19.878-05:002009-11-13T19:52:19.878-05:00Yeah Melissa, that's exactly what it is. It&#...Yeah Melissa, that's exactly what it is. It's hard to realize that, deal with it, heal and move on. But it can be done, and you are taking all the important steps to do that now. The important thing to remember is that now you know, so you can give yourself permission to grow, and that's a huge victory of itself. There is no rush to healing, in fact if you attempt to rush it, like as not you'll only do more harm, like not healing correctly. So give yourself permission to take all the time you need. It's also important to not let others make excuses why you shouldn't do this, or should do it their way. Let folks help you, but don't let them dictate how, when, or how fast you should heal because you should be doing this only for you.<br /><br />Something else that goes with this that I've had to learn the hard way. You have to be able to care for yourself, love yourself, at least as much as you care for and love people around you or you won't be doing anyone any favors.<br /><br />Yes my dear, it sounds from what you've written here, and on you blog in other posts, that you probably are living with a touch of Complex PTSD. This difference between complex and regular PTSD isn't one of severity as much as onset. Having someone die on you while you are fighting in one instant in time can be regular. A car crash, rape, or really any major sudden trauma that happens, suspending someone in a single moment in time is regular PTSD. Being battered over years is complex PTSD, also sometimes subclassed (known) as prison camp survivor's syndrome.<br /><br />From the time I was five on I was battered and abused, at the mercy of a captor from which I could not escape or defend myself in any healthy fashion. At 17 I caught a break, but did not reflect and try to heal, I kept pushing on, burning my new found freedom to prove on some level that my abuser was wrong while looking for someone, anyone to love me.<br /><br />When Earl showed up I'd not learned to look for the signs of trouble, and was lured in by the "perfect" man, a guy identical to my dear own Dad. The difference there is that my father thankfully never sexual abused me. Earl did not have any such inhibitions. Anyway that's a story I suspect for another post.<br /><br />So yeah, take your time, give yourself permission to explore, grow and heal. It will be, I promise, and adventure. Don't be discouraged if it takes a long time. For me, transition was a short runway walk compared to the ongoing journey of healing and growth. It may well be the same for you.<br /><br />If you have questions, or just need moral support, let me know, I'm here.<br /><br />Hugs,<br /><br />SamSamantha Shantihttps://www.blogger.com/profile/10586759980410037672noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3068056247569686728.post-1858668901090023672009-09-12T12:19:11.858-04:002009-09-12T12:19:11.858-04:00Your childhood reminds me somewhat of my own, exce...Your childhood reminds me somewhat of my own, except that it was my mother, not my father who regularly subjected me to her violence and cynicism. In my blog Assault On Innocence, I wrote of my first transgender memory, where in a violent hysterical rage, she turned what had been an afternoon of joyful innocence, into an intense sense of fear and shame. I was four at the time, and from that day on, I could never again trust, or confide in my mother. I grew up in constant fear of her mercurial mood swings, never knowing when an innocent comment or action, would send her into a violent rage. Hardly a day went by, where I didn't receive either a full out beating, a smack in the mouth, or at at the very least, be subjected to cruel and humiliating ridicule. The result was that I grew into a shy and reticent being, always looking for, but rarely receiving the approval of others, and never quite capable of reaching my full potential. I never thought of it as living with PTSD, but now that I have read your post, I think that's exactly what it is.<br /><br />Melissa XXMelissahttps://www.blogger.com/profile/04600684740584460891noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3068056247569686728.post-39937829364211980492009-09-11T13:11:15.361-04:002009-09-11T13:11:15.361-04:00Sometimes it's easier to see things from a dis...Sometimes it's easier to see things from a distance; you've shown me that so many times, my friend...and your revelations have made much difference in my own ability "to deal"!<br /><br />Hugs, my wonderful friend! I love you...<br /><br />alanalanhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/06013341654649926300noreply@blogger.com