My PTSD
Disclaimer: If you feel you may be triggered by discussion of childhood abuse, sexual abuse, or anything akin to that, please know these are discussed in this post. I apologize in advance for the messy way this is written. This was difficult to write.
A note before I begin: It should be clear after reading this I'm not trying to garner any female's adoration. There is a stigma attached to being a victim of physical/sexual/psychological abuse (of which I experienced all), and it does not make a woman want to be with a man. So, it's fortunate there is no woman in my life with whom I can share this at the moment. This is me — alone again — walking with God, inspecting and tending to the wounds of childhood sexual abuse (CSA) as well as other childhood trauma. The timing is good for God to deal with these childhood wounds. Reading about PTSD simply led to something larger (to be discussed in a future post), and, as they say in show business, "The show must go on ..."
Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) is something we hear a lot about concerning men and women who have returned from combat (In fact, I wonder how much of a disorder it is when millions of people have it). But you don't have to go to war to show signs of PTSD. In fact, I've had many of the symptoms of PTSD most of my life. And going through life like that is hard. When you see someone struggling with everyday life like even small things are burdens, consider something like PTSD is lurking under the surface. That person may be doing their best just to hold themselves together. You don't have the whole picture. Don't assume you know what they're going through.
There are many tests to determine if PTSD is a factor in our lives. I took the one here. I got a 26 on this particular test, and, as always, I would take any results with a grain of salt. A professional can give an accurate evaluation. But, I don't need a professional to tell me I have PTSD.
I have many of the symptoms listed here, even trouble sleeping. A variety of traumatic experiences can cause PTSD. Basically, we all want to feel trust in those around us and safe in our environment. PTSD reminds us our world and those around us are not perfect and we can be savaged by it and them at any time. It says we have no protection from future trauma. It says it will happen again. It says we are powerless. It says so many horrible things.
A person can be sitting alone in a quiet room and feel in danger. That's a hard concept to explain to a lot of people, but that's PTSD. The physical, emotional, psychological and what I consider sexual abuse I endured as a young boy stayed with me. I have no memories of sexual abuse, but I have a strong reaction to my father when he walks into the room. My mind long ago dissociated the memories, but somewhere in there, it remembers. It's a strong reaction that's hard to describe — a classic fight-or-flight response, perhaps — part terror, part hate, part I-want-to-kill-you, and all kinds of pain. It's the kind of pain no one should ever feel but was inflicted upon me repeatedly first by a doctor and then by doctor's orders. It certainly should not have happened in a supposed Christian home.
On Oct. 4, at approximately 3 in the morning, I awoke after a dream about my father. I took note because I almost never remember my dreams, and this one was particularly vivid, so I felt God was telling me it was time to deal with the trauma this man afflicted me. I was hoping the hard work had already been done, but God put His finger on this again. I've written about this before, most notably in my July 4 post last year about the book The Perks of Being a Wallflower, which triggered me while reading it. It's my feeling God is dealing with old traumas one by one. Admitting what happened was the first step. Now what?
When someone close to you inflicts trauma, one of the first things we do is bury it. It's either too much to deal with all at once (so sometimes we dissociate) or it's so out of order with our concept of that person we tell ourselves it cannot be true. The next thing the victim does is blame themself. That may sound illogical, but our minds are simply protecting what they know to be true. If your guardian/protector/someone you look up to/someone you love/someone you trust is hurting you, then you must have done something wrong or bad, or you are simply bad. You deserved what happened because that person who loves and protects you would not have done that otherwise. We often protect the very person/people who hurt us. We act like they didn't destroy us. We lie to ourselves and others. We make excuses for them. We cover it up. We eat it like the dutiful sin-eaters we are. So, bury and self-blame. One is a protective mechanism, and one is simply trying to make sense of what happened. Unfortunately, what you bury never stays buried. It's like trying to keep a bunch of balloons under water. Those feelings will resurface — sometimes violently and without warning. I could not ignore my feelings. I tried to self-medicate for years, mostly with alcohol, but eventually realized I was simply killing myself, which was more self-blame.
The more often abuse takes place, even in different forms, the more ensconced the protective mechanisms become. And then it becomes a pattern for living. When I look at my life, it doesn't make sense until I bring into focus the abuse. I had all sorts of advantages but ended up doing nothing but wallowing in self-destructive behaviors, only breaking free from most of them 5 years ago. Those self-destructive behaviors took hold because of self-blame, a product of childhood abuse. Look at all of my relationships — from romantic to work — and they all speak the same thing: I wasn't good enough to expect more. In retrospect, my past work relationships and relationship with Kate, my ex, were nothing but extensions of childhood abuse. Those relationships were abusive. But that's what I told myself I deserved. It's also why I passed on the girl of my dreams. It's almost like I chose the most difficult and horrible circumstances possible to throw myself into. I wanted to fail. I wanted to feel bad. That's what I deserved. Choosing circumstances in which you know you will fail is what I call an "automatic failure mechanism." I hope to write more on that later.
When my ex was still my girlfriend back in, I think, 1999, she went on spring break, leaving me at home because I had to work (of course). But she went with a bunch of guys in a car. All the way to Virginia Beach. Why did I let that girl go on such a trip — with a bunch of guys? Why didn't I have the self-respect to stand up to her then or the many times after that? I believe now it has to do with my fear of intimacy, which is a product of CSA (or, possibly, that I just dissociated, which is something I still do today). It's the same reason why I didn't allow our relationship to progress and probably the reason why she cheated on me so much (see, more self-blame). She wanted what I could not offer. But how could I be intimate with her when she hurt me by cheating on me? It was a vicious cycle for which we were both to blame. Only I blamed myself the most and the longest, putting myself squarely under her thumb. There is a bit of dialog in the children's book The Little Prince where the fox says, "You are responsible forever for what you have tamed," and I always thought that fit our relationship. But looking back, I'm responsible for jack shit because I never tamed her. She resisted me right up the very end.
I had a need to blame myself for her treating me poorly. Breaking free from that through divorce was also something I blamed myself for. What was supposed to be my exit from all that blame and pain became just a doorway to more of the same. And then I saw my dear friend Cindy divorce her husband and took the blame for that as well. So, here I was to blame for two divorces and endless heartbreak of children and families. How on earth did I react to that? Well, in a variety of ways, but one of the most heartbreaking was I wanted to kill myself. I figured Cindy would go back to her ex and my family would shake their heads for a while and call me a selfish asshole (as people always do with suicides) and then move on. God told me that was the wrong attitude, so I started asking Him to kill me as a sort of sacrifice for everyone's happiness. Haha. It's funny now, of course. The fact that I'm writing this, clearly, indicates God's response to that request.
Those were dark days. But God showed me I have a savior complex (it's hard for me to see anyone suffering, especially children, especially when I am to blame for their suffering), have an overdeveloped sense of justice (common to abuse victims), and I take too much blame on myself. Cindy had good reason to divorce her abusive/neglectful/cheating ex and the decision was all hers. The last I knew, she cut me out of her life to put her family back together and then nine months later she got a divorce, so whatever happened in that time I am in the dark about and the divorce was unexpected on my end. There was plenty of time and space for her to change course. Her ex treated her like garbage, so he's to blame for his role in their divorce. My ex was a dirty tramp as well as a stubborn mule of a woman who always had to have her way, so she gets the blame for that. I take the blame for what I did, and everyone else gets a piece of the pie as well. Anyway, that's a recent example of the ridiculous amount of self-blame childhood abuse victims heap on themselves. Can you imagine going through life like that? Always blaming yourself for other people's mistakes — even blaming yourself for them hurting you? That's effed up. And that's me.
Moving on. The greatest danger is not when you react violently to an abusive situation, but rather, when you accept it, when it's normal. That's where I was most of my life. A few years ago, something bad happened at work, but it shows how I resisted the structure of abuse that existed my whole life. I got into a heated argument with a coworker defending my work, went back to my desk, and it was fine. Until she came up behind me and put me a headlock. It was either the worst hug in the world or she was trying to kill me. Either way, I couldn't breathe. I broke free, realized I was trapped because she was blocking the exit, so I kicked a trash can out of the way, then left the building. An over-reaction? Perhaps. But, a few things went wrong: First, NEVER touch a coworker, especially after having an argument with them. That's physical assault. How many lawsuits have been filed because someone was touched at work? And certainly don't do it after an argument. And don't come up behind them and do it without their knowledge or consent. And don't ensure they can't breathe. You don't blame that person for protecting themself and leaving the premises. That's just wrong. But that's how so many scenarios in my life have played out.
You know what the reaction was? I bet you already know. "What's wrong with Joshua?" I was at fault. I was to blame. I should be sued because she felt threatened. She felt threatened? How? When she had me in a headlock and I couldn't breathe, she felt threatened? I left the building after she physically assaulted me. It was victim-blaming. I'm surrounded by heartless and blind people and always have been. Coming back to this place has shown me that. Anyway, the lady quit a few days later. She should have been fired, not allowed to quit. And, guess what, she was rehired about a year after that, after bad-mouthing my parents and the company, and, I'm sure, me, to all of her former clients, many of whom still refuse to do business with us. All of that sought to reinforce how awful and deserving of blame I am. Only I didn't sit there and take it that time. I was getting stronger and healthier, and I wasn't going to take anyone's shit. Blame me if you want, but I'm not going to blame myself anymore because someone is a shithead. And I won't accept gaslighting because I know what I know better than anyone else knows what I know. Say that fast five times!
It reminds me of when my brothers used to beat up on me. Have you ever watched a basketball game and one of the players shoves another? He gets a foul. He gets thrown out. Whatever. But the replay shows the other guy shoved him first. He got no foul. No one saw that. That's what growing up in my house was like. So, I got my mouth washed out with soap because I said my brother was being a "jerkoff," but did anyone ask why I said that? Yeah, and he helped wash my mouth out. How kind of him. It was unfair and it is victim-blaming, just like the example from my workplace above. The same goes for all the times my parents caught me wailing on my brothers because they baited me.
Taking this whole thing up to date, there's how I left my marriage. Completely shitty of me, I realize. I wanted to hurt my ex the same as she hurt me. I fell short, I fear, of that goal, but in retrospect, it was a decision God couldn't bless. Nevertheless, no one saw all the carnage she caused in my life, the endless infidelities, the bullying, whatever. But they saw what I did to her. And that's all they remember. Am I trying to justify what I did? No. But it was a little unfair to blame me for all of it. I've learned my lesson, and I cannot sit in the judgment seat. I won't ever do anything like that again. But, still, it seems I simply cannot win, just as when my brothers would beat up on me and I would retaliate. Was I supposed to sit there and take it forever? Or retaliate and take the blame?
What will change behavior that has been in place most of my 42 years? There is only one thing I can think of, and that's God's love. It is the antidote to all of that. It says I am loved no matter what (even if I am truly to blame), that I can never escape God's love, that traumas are momentary and eternity with Him will erase all pain. Until then, I can receive His blessings and feel His love here and now, and all of those things He has made me worthy of. Breaking out of abusive relationships has allowed me to walk closer to God than ever before. There may be relapses and poor decisions in my future, but I know God can correct my path again.
God doesn't call us to be victims. The Bible says we are more than conquerors through Jesus Christ. I don't know what a conqueror looks like, much less someone who is more than a conqueror, but I want that. I don't want to see myself as a victim. I will not treat myself as a victim, though I plan to go slow the rest of my life and be more deliberate with my words and actions.
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| Um, no. |
Anyway, I am not in a bad relationship. Granted, this is by virtue of not being in any relationship, but at least I'm not in a bad one. I have that going for me. I have broken free. It was scary at first. But a slave who loves his chains will never be free. So many people go right back to the same kind of relationship they were in before. I don't want that to happen to me. So I'm leaving this one up to God. If He has me spend the rest of my life alone, then so be it. If He has someone I can be a blessing to and who will be a blessing to me, then I will gladly accept that. I don't know the future. I've only begun to understand the past.
And I'm determined not to relive it.
Thank you, as always, for reading. This is part one in a series of at least two posts. I sincerely hope there are no more than two posts because as I sit here, I am terrified. I don't want to do this. But I also desperately want to get to the other side of all this. I can see what my life could look like without all of these nagging wounds. My heart bursts with terror and hope at the same time. Terror is momentary. Hope is eternal.
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