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Unread 04-10-2012, 02:30 PM   #1
WiledBill
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EMOSHUNNED

Trust, I have never trusted anyone enough to unleash my burden such as I am now, I trust me and I know the computer will only share this if I command it to. I believe it is impossible to truly love without trust, to lay yourself bare, with no secrets, no skeletons in the closet. I believe that childhood PTSD is very difficult to understand because it is intellectualized. I have a life time of trying to think my way to understanding what haunts me, it doesn't work. My moment demands feeling to bring about awareness. This is where most of the lasting damage percolates in my darkness. It is my soul that has bled. Scarred...

You need to feel Billy, a burned, scared, little duffer who went to his mother for comfort after a horrible accident. Billy is very aware he's in trouble with the tee shirt stuck to his burned belly preventing him from standing straight; “help me mommy”! Feel Billy standing before his nurturer with tears flowing and in considerable pain. Feel Billy summoning up all his courage as mother promised not to hurt him. Feel Billy jump back from the pain as mother pulled at the shirt. Feel the agony and building terror as Billy contemplates his options, trusting his mother he courageously walks back to her because she once again promised not to hurt him. Feel Billy trembling, crying, scared beyond words standing before mother as she attempts to rip the shirt from his body. Lie...

Feel the lightning bolt of pain mixed with feeling betrayed, mother wants to hurt me. Four years old is way to young to have a fight or flight moment, but that is exactly what happened; flight was the only option and I, screaming in agony ran and hid. Alone...

Feel Billy hiding in a closet, under clothes desperately quieting his crying, pushing the pain away, feel the fear. Feel Billy deciding that he needs to remove the stuck shirt. Feel Billy biting his finger, in agony slowly trying to remove the shirt, holding in screams with every fiber freeing itself. A dangerous precedent was born in that closet, that day. Feel the horror when the closet door opens and Billy is hauled from his escape. Feel the terror, Billy knows what is coming and starts to fight back in uncontrollable fear. Feel the air draining screams as he is muscled to the floor. Pinned...

Feel Billy fighting for his life with every once of fight he has, Feel the horror of his mothers very contorted, very angry face as that is the last visible memory Billy has before the whiteout as the shirt is ripped from his body. Skinned...

Words can never equal or explain the emotional damage caused. I know that the emotional void created that day cannot be remedied with medication, prescribed or otherwise. The void cannot be filled nor fixed with words. Billy is trapped inside me and I need to find a way to communicate with him. I need to heal him or I am forever frozen in that moment and stuck with all idiosyncrasies associated with unimaginable fear and a broken primal bond. Lost...

Writing This Wrong is not going to heal me but Writing This Wrong has demanded I revisit my moment as many times necessary to find the right track. Logic and intellect have proved long, dank tunnels to frustration. I have become aware that in order to see in my darkness I must close my eyes and feel my way to freedom. This freedom I seek will be false and short lived if I cannot feel a small hand in mine. I have learned and accepted; “I am that I am”. Exodus...
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Unread 04-13-2012, 05:30 PM   #2
Lara
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Hi Bill,
I'm sorry you've had no replies on this forum yet. It's not all that busy.

I just wanted to let you know about the sub-forum here in case you needed to talk to people but thought you may not have seen the link. It's at the main site PsychCentral.

http://forums.psychcentral.com/forumdisplay.php?f=15
Post-traumatic Stress at PsychCentral

I'm so sorry for your pain.
take care there.

EDITED to ADD: I just read your 1st post after replying to this one.

Welcome to the NeuroTalk Forums.
I didn't "get" the thread title until I read your first post. It's actually very clever. emoshunned/emotioned

You probably weren't able to upload anything because of the forum limits here. I think one needs to make at least a certain # posts before some features work.
Keep writing! Yes, I feel it.
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Last edited by Lara; 04-14-2012 at 03:26 AM. Reason: Changed user name from Billy to Bill after reading 1st msg.
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Unread 05-21-2012, 01:53 PM   #3
Dolfinwolf
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I wish I knew what to say. I have never felt anything close to what you have been through. Your experience is moving, and I feel for you.
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March 2007, Oct. 2007, and Jan 2012 concussions sustained in martial arts/police academy training; suffering from PCS symptoms of fatigue/exertion problems,tinnitus,dizziness, overstimulation issues, photophobia. Also suffer from PTSD.

So we do not lose heart. Though our outer nature is wasting away, our inner nature is being renewed every day.
2 Corinthians 4:16
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Unread 05-01-2013, 09:07 PM   #4
PTSDeed
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Join Date: May 2013
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Default I feel your pain

I suffered PTSD as a child with my mother who was abusive verbally,physically,emotionally & mentally & I was finally able to let go of that pain due to a self help organization called Impact Training here in Salt Lake City.They created a safe place for me to go through the pain & grieve so that I could leave it behind me through processes,feedback & unconditional love.I also intellectualized it & created these huge walls around my heart & feelings that no one could get through,I remember the isolation & loneliness that I went through life with but it wasn't until I went through the training that I realized how much an effect it had on all my relationships including the one I had with myself.Trust has always been an issue with me especially with women & I suspect that your experience has been similar.Help is available,seek it out,counselling was something I never sought out because I was too ashamed to talk about it.I empathize with you



Quote:
Originally Posted by WiledBill View Post
EMOSHUNNED

Trust, I have never trusted anyone enough to unleash my burden such as I am now, I trust me and I know the computer will only share this if I command it to. I believe it is impossible to truly love without trust, to lay yourself bare, with no secrets, no skeletons in the closet. I believe that childhood PTSD is very difficult to understand because it is intellectualized. I have a life time of trying to think my way to understanding what haunts me, it doesn't work. My moment demands feeling to bring about awareness. This is where most of the lasting damage percolates in my darkness. It is my soul that has bled. Scarred...

You need to feel Billy, a burned, scared, little duffer who went to his mother for comfort after a horrible accident. Billy is very aware he's in trouble with the tee shirt stuck to his burned belly preventing him from standing straight; “help me mommy”! Feel Billy standing before his nurturer with tears flowing and in considerable pain. Feel Billy summoning up all his courage as mother promised not to hurt him. Feel Billy jump back from the pain as mother pulled at the shirt. Feel the agony and building terror as Billy contemplates his options, trusting his mother he courageously walks back to her because she once again promised not to hurt him. Feel Billy trembling, crying, scared beyond words standing before mother as she attempts to rip the shirt from his body. Lie...

Feel the lightning bolt of pain mixed with feeling betrayed, mother wants to hurt me. Four years old is way to young to have a fight or flight moment, but that is exactly what happened; flight was the only option and I, screaming in agony ran and hid. Alone...

Feel Billy hiding in a closet, under clothes desperately quieting his crying, pushing the pain away, feel the fear. Feel Billy deciding that he needs to remove the stuck shirt. Feel Billy biting his finger, in agony slowly trying to remove the shirt, holding in screams with every fiber freeing itself. A dangerous precedent was born in that closet, that day. Feel the horror when the closet door opens and Billy is hauled from his escape. Feel the terror, Billy knows what is coming and starts to fight back in uncontrollable fear. Feel the air draining screams as he is muscled to the floor. Pinned...

Feel Billy fighting for his life with every once of fight he has, Feel the horror of his mothers very contorted, very angry face as that is the last visible memory Billy has before the whiteout as the shirt is ripped from his body. Skinned...

Words can never equal or explain the emotional damage caused. I know that the emotional void created that day cannot be remedied with medication, prescribed or otherwise. The void cannot be filled nor fixed with words. Billy is trapped inside me and I need to find a way to communicate with him. I need to heal him or I am forever frozen in that moment and stuck with all idiosyncrasies associated with unimaginable fear and a broken primal bond. Lost...

Writing This Wrong is not going to heal me but Writing This Wrong has demanded I revisit my moment as many times necessary to find the right track. Logic and intellect have proved long, dank tunnels to frustration. I have become aware that in order to see in my darkness I must close my eyes and feel my way to freedom. This freedom I seek will be false and short lived if I cannot feel a small hand in mine. I have learned and accepted; “I am that I am”. Exodus...
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