Truth

Living in the Bunker...the holiday season

I've found it best to hide away when the holiday season of late November hits. I drop facebook and shore up supplies in my bunkeresque home. I don't need anyone telling me "Happy Holidays" because it sucks. I don't need pictures of happy family gatherings or smiling faces around the big table heaped with food. I don't need to be reminded that folks find this the happiest time of year. It just serves to remind me how different and obscure I am.
I've never enjoyed family gatherings, go figure. Load noises, lots of strangely familiar people packed tightly into odd houses, steaming plates of too much foreign food that everyone thinks I should try and taste, people pretending to care for two days a year when the rest of the year they never call or care. I remember all those aunts who smiled to my face and dropped me the minute grandma died. Gram was the only one who loved me, I get that now, okay.
I don't know how other survivors do it, you know, being shoved into crowded rooms with relatives that have sexually abused or stood by and did nothing. Invalidation reigns high during the "holy" days of November, December.
Family, to me, has always been a sick joke of pretty looking papers dolls that have no feelings or smiles genuine. It's cheap dollar store gifts from one unknown to another. Strangers hug, smile and lie over turkey and pie. Thinking they care, ha. What a joke.
Glad to be rid of them.
To get invited or naught with these new strangers....they can't comprehend my anxiety at a setting with strangers. They don't know my aversions or fear of new food and how an hour of small talk can stress me out for three days. I turn them down. I run. I hide. I hole up so I don't need to explain the unexplainable, me.
Enough with the well wishing and gifts. Just go away. I'll get through this like I do every year. At least I have a really good bunker.

Being a Recluse

Busy disappointing and alienating people again. Trying to make and keep friends is once again proving too stressful and an impossibility. Really need to accept what I am and what I'm capable of. Friendship isn't part of this ship. Flying solo. It's all good.

Staying in Bed CPTSD

No place feels safe but it's least scary here

CPTSD

One Sound Can Shatter the Mood...or my entire day or evening

My son dropped his toy onto the metal baseboard heater. The sound jolted me, made me jump and I started to cry. I felt so unsafe that I went out for a walk to try and settle down. It didn't feel safe in my own home. Sigh.
Life is forever unpredictable and full of hurt.
Living PTSD

The Latest News

Well, my son got over his 3-day virus and returned to school yesterday. Today will be my third day sick. I've figured that it's not unusual to get sick every month after moving cross country to a different state with different viruses. It's like our Michigan bodies need to build Oregon antibodies. Makes sense.
I had my second appointment with new therapist. I'm pretty sure this therapeutic will work out very well. I'm positive that we will hit some bumps along the road, as the road to understanding another person is always fraught with minor obstacles to overcome. It's the nature of the process. So, I'm glad the therapist search is over.
A local church is sponsoring us for Thanksgiving. This weekend someone will be dropping off our holiday food basket. It's exciting! I like that we are thought of and given assistance. I have no qualms or worries or embarrassment about receiving help and assistance At All. It really just makes me smile. People care about one another And about me and my son. It's all very good.