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See you in the Fort!

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Hey there Fuckers. So this is awkward for me. Nothing like a little self-humiliation from disclosing some serious details from recent triggerings and once-deeply hidden trauma discoveries, huh?

Yeah, well, that’s why it’s taken so long to reveal any real details about the rollercoaster living situation with my mother. You know, living under the control of constant shame, I haven’t really viewed my experiences in a fair light with all circumstances taken into consideration. I’ve just accepted my mom’s assertions and moved on with new negative self-evaluations without realizing it. And that has made me very resistant to talk about things, considering I’m just being an overly emotional lunatic all the time.

Interesting how easily we take on other people’s stories about ourselves in relationships, friendships, and even work environments, isn’t it? Especially when you KNOW that they aren’t “right” in the brain, themselves, but somehow you’ll still appeal to their assertions before giving yourself credit for your own.

Basically, I’m saying the same reason why we stay quiet about early trauma is the same reason why we keep it zipped down the line. Never want anyone to worry or think that we’re being dramatic, so shut it. And that’s what I did here, too.

On top of that, I also feared that talking about my situation would be viewed as pulling a victim card. Which, to be fair, is completely a projection of my own. I can’t stand when people are polling for sympathy (it’s why I stay off social media support groups) and I don’t want to be viewed the same way – as a self-assigned victim who’s weirdly happy with the title and expects people to bend to it. NO. This is a bad trauma response.

So, I’ve withheld a lot of my wild moments in the past almost-year, even after writing profusely about them. If anyone wants more transcripts from fighting with my mom – I’ve got them. There have been some times, and I have shoved them back down my throat many times.

Can we also mention how borderline I sound? I somehow HAVEN’T been diagnosed as borderline, but considering it’s more or less Complex Trauma when diagnosed in women… well, I guess I shouldn’t be surprised when I listen back to myself and go “oooof.” Yeah, no offense BPD, but that’s kind of my worst fear thanks to the stigma of the reductive reputation as manipulative self-harmers.

Anyways, all of this being said… I just wanted to check in pretty quickly after that last episode and provide the nervous system calming portion that comes after being ridiculously wound up and triggered. I figure there’s a good chance that that episode was difficult for folks, either in a current or historical sense, so I should pop in and shine light on the other end of things – the positive lessons that have come of this experience. Of which there are many.

Plus, they should kind of give you that parasympathetic let down that happens after extreme survival responses. This isn’t a constant trauma response – it’s over and we can all relax with our more healthy and realistic, educated, adult brains. There are coping techniques and perspective shifts to keep us all sane in these circumstances. And we should talk about them so I’m not just complaining into the void. There are lessons here.

I guess I also wanted to let folks know that everything is okay and I’m not a panicky infant over here. I won’t be annoyingly tattling on my mom forever, I promise. My calm, safe, and supported adult neural network has returned to the control center.

This is all to say… yeah I’m not feeling so acutely or chronically triggered anymore. The survival system has chilled. So that’s pretty fucking great.

Full disclosure; it’s not that I grounded myself back to a full nervous system homeostasis in two days after that upset while residing in the same environment – please – short of a full dissociation, that would be impossible under these conditions with my trigger in the room at all times. Nah. Actually, it’s because I recorded that episode two weeks ago and I’ve been dealing with things slowly on my end ever since… and not in my triggering surroundings, because I got the fuck out.

So, the timeline was: having a lot of big trauma thoughts and discoveries about my mom for like 2 or 3 weeks of personality fragmentation research… leading up to the Saturday explosion that I described. Then I wrote the podcast episode Sunday, recorded on Monday, had another battle Monday night, and left the house as soon as I was packed on Tuesday morning.

I visited Archie’s first foster mom (holler, whattup Jen – turns out she’s a fellow Fucker, who knew). Then I went to Champaign-Urbana to see a friend. Then I really hit the road, went to Lexington, and spent some time getting my head back in order.

Without being under control of the continual trigger in my immediate environment, you know, it was much easier for processing and releasing negative thoughts and feelings. My system quieted right down. Go figure.

And, of course, I know this. We talk about it. Getting out of the cognitive trauma trap that is being stuck in a long-term freeze state really helps to hit that “reset” button on your trauma state and helps your brain integrate new information. Plus, letting your nervous system let off the emergency lever for a minute stops you from re-triggering yourself when your dumb body thinks it’s actually in danger. These are things I understand, but things that are difficult to do in real life.

But this time, that’s exactly what I did. Outta here, Fuckers. And I’m glad I did it.

Was it “fleeing” the situation or “avoiding” the problem? I could see how that would be a “yes.” Butttttt I’m taking my decision to travel as a positive personal development, because I actually was planning on going on some version of this trip anyways… These covert abuse events just sped up my departure and prolonged my return.

Honestly, I’m super proud of myself, because for once I actually pulled the trigger and got myself out of a dangerous situation. This is huge because I like to tell myself that I have no one and I’m completely alone. I mean, that’s how I feel all the time – uh, pretty sure we all do – but the truth is that I do know people and there are humans on this planet who semi-care for me, at least. I know I always feel like a burden, but… I need to challenge that childhood-inspired narrative a lot more often.

Also, I took big trauma step because my trip involved the recognition that I am a fucking grown adult has the option of leaving and doing whatever she needs to do to be safe and healthy. In other times, I have not felt capable. That, alone, is part of the problem with my mother. She’s so good at putting you back in your helpless kid shoes through her insistence that this is reality and the subtle ways she continually degrades you, that I honestly start to believe it.

I stop feeling like I can do anything myself. I start accepting the learned helplessness. It’s a classic abuse move. It’s why we keep living with people who aren’t good for us and we know it. It’s why I lived with my toxic ex for another year after I tried to leave him the first time, and I bet that’s not a unique story.

But, this time I realized that it’s all bullshit. It’s an old trauma narrative from my early life, when I was helpless and trapped in the abusive household. A real fucked up core belief that emerges when people influence me to doubt everything about myself. These days, thank Satan, I realize that isn’t the case. I have the means to not be trapped in this situation (for example, arms and legs to carry me and Archie out of here, and a vehicle to put our equally smelly bodies in) and for once I decided to go ahead and use those resources.

Normally, I just guilt myself in a million directions and eventually don’t pull the trigger… you know, because it costs money to do things, it is difficult to take risks when your head is full of worst case scenarios, and it’s generally a lot easier to just sit back and be comfortable with the misery that you’re already familiar with. At least it feels “safe” to know what you’re going to get.

That’s also a common abuse string for all of us.

Plus, I figured my mom and I were going to continue upsetting each other nonstop as long as I was still in that environment. Who knows what would have happened next as we both triggered and re-triggered each other through our escalating trigger responses. It was a vicious circle that wasn’t going to end well with two survival-ready nervous systems. Another pattern that I’ve been stuck in, several times in the past. And that shit almost ended in the morgue.

So, overall, I really think leaving was the best choice.

For about 8 days I went and stayed with my motherfucking friends. Caught up. Slightly debriefed on the mom situation, but honestly, didn’t get into it very much. I’m not an over-sharer and I don’t need everyone to support my bad emotions anymore – hell yeah, turning away from a life of emotional codependency. We just spent a lot of time outdoors. Showered A-Dog with attention. Had some personal disclosures about other sensitive topics.

Just, generally had some positive social experiences and tried to relax my wired system. I won’t lie to you and say that substances were not involved, but I think that the environmental and social changes were the bigger influences on my brain. And I am in a detox week to undo the chemicals, so check that off the adult list, too.

I also had two therapy sessions in that time away from my mom’s house, which has been my first return to counseling in about a year. In 2020 my therapist and I felt like I wasn’t getting anything out of the sessions anymore and we took a year-long break, apparently. When things were triggering me in Atlanta, I had everything I needed to control them and ground myself. Because… I had control.

Being back home… not the case. No control and no successful past experiences with tackling my mom issues – no way to handle this with the same grace. I need some brain support.

So, my therapist and I started revisiting my history with my mom, as well as coming up with actionable things to do in the moment, so I can feel okay with the living situation. I was clearly not very happy about the idea of going back to her house and wondering how to keep myself from flipping into that little kid personality that I mentioned – the one who is never heard, never wanted, never allowed to just exist without it being wrong, and expected to act like a good little helper all the time.

(Again this all comes back to everything we’ve been talking about with the neural networks creating these personality templates for us that are all based on our survival responses that we learned early on in our lives. My mom brings out a very unique mix of survival responses. They start with the submitting and fawning techniques – those are my baseline, daily strategies for living, developed as a young child – and then eventually it moves up into the escalated (and more energetically costly) survival strategies such as fighting and fleeing that I learned as a teenager and adult. This is the series of survival personalities that I flip through in my attempts to stay on the good side, resulting in my adult personality dissociation and the activation of a terrified, immature neural network that makes me feel like I’m 8 years old again.)

Now, I’m feeling like I understand a lot of things even better since talking to my therapist. Mostly because she provided a lot of insights for how to deal with this on a day-to-day basis.

Namely… telling me pretty much not to bother.

As in, don’t bother trying to handle the situation with your mother, you can only handle yourself. Do not try to talk to your mom about anything emotional or experiential because it is so far beyond her capacity, and she isn’t available to care. She’s too scared of her entire life history to address the abuse or acknowledge you, your brothers, your dad, or anyone else. She never will, and you are never going to get the approval or the understanding from her that you want. It’s natural to strive for those things, it’s hard to give them up. But it’s a futile battle to keep pushing for healthy love from her, and it’s just probably best to keep things down low for now.

Now, I’m sure you’d be shocked – SHOCKED (ha, yeah right) – to know that several fellow Fuckers reached out and said they were in the same boat. Creepily, eerily, so. Then, another of our trauma friends just wrote to me this morning and said the following:

I also wanted to share my “mother” experience with you – the very short, to today’s point version. In May 2020 (weirdly enough) I came to the realization that I was just never going to be able to make my mother love me. There was a lot of grief and anger around this – 57 years worth – and I started having what is probably called a breakdown. However, about 6 hours after I had come to that determination, I then decided that ya know, fuck it, I am just DONE with trying to make her love me. Just FUCKING DONE. And I suddenly felt lighter, freer, and hopeful for the future. I went no contact with her (which I know you can’t do at present) and my life has been so much more peaceful since then. And I’ve done a lot of learning, a lot of looking back at my life to date – with some VERY interesting (and not always pleasant) new understandings with the benefit of hindsight – and have been rebuilding my life and my sense of self. With immense valuable input from you and others. I still grieve about it at times, but I’m so much better off disconnected from that woman. So I guess what I’m trying to say is that if you can make the painful decision to stop needing your mother to love you, you will fucking soar.

Ah. Yes. The approach that I took for most of my twenties. I can tell you, it DOES work. Forget mom, because she sure doesn’t think about you unless it’s a bad thing. Boom, all your problems are solved and you can just LIVE your life. The only problem being, I wasn’t in her house during the times that I cut emotional ties or all forms of contact in the past. This is a bit different. But, mentally instituting this plan does immediately make me feel calm and less pressured.

I don’t need to fear her – I don’t need to care about what she thinks at all. I’ll never impress her, enough will never be enough, and we aren’t going to have some heart to heart that makes her see me for all the things I am or the ways she contributed.

And… that’s incredibly relieving. Freeing. Just don’t care what someone else thinks? Ah, Fucker, I can just not care like no one’s ever seen before. It’s one of my superpowers. It’s one of the reasons I connect with punk so deeply. Fucking watch this. Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, you’re cool, fuck you, Archie’s fine, everyone else can suck a bag of dicks. No problem. This is about half of how I live my life, until people make me care again.

So that mindset shift has been immensely helpful. “Your mom’s a mess, you don’t need to worry about what she believes because all of it is irrelevant, unexamined, and unhealthy.” Oh. Okay. Right.

And you know what? I knew that when I was younger. That’s absolutely how I dealt with her for my later teenage years. She would yell and I would calmly stand in front of her asking with exhaustion and amusement, “is this really worth the crumb on the counter?” before driving off to PetSmart shaking my head. But that was at a time when I didn’t NEED her, really. It’s when I NEED her that shit gets all messy, because it puts me exactly into the unsafe position of being a child. Which seems to be by design. Uh, a lot more on that in our next episode.

So, working on just tuning out the opinions of someone who only breathes negativity. Cool. It’s been recommended that things settle for about a month before we try to discuss anything again.

Meanwhile, my therapist and I are working on creating a list of boundaries that I will eventually try to communicate to my mom after some time has passed. She wants me to develop rules about when to offer my mom compassion and when I don’t need to worry about protecting her. Basically, guidelines to duck out of the manipulative traps based on what’s realistic and what’s another victimy story. But, my therapist also encourages me to do so with the knowledge that probably nothing is actually going to change. I can communicate clearly and respectfully about what is and isn’t okay in our relationship, but realize it won’t be received or respected.

Essentially, all I can do is be the unbothered grown-ass adult in the household because I am dealing with a petulant child. She somehow has the ability to always flip that script to where she is the authoritative adult who must be honored, while everyone around her is stupid and incapable.

She wants you to feel like you’re so far below her, and it works. But my therapist has reminded me it is the opposite, those are all the projections from my mom because in reality she has not developed real life skills, only the very basic responsibilities that have allowed her to survive. Uh, I think a lot of us can probably understand that.

So, it’s recommended that I don’t try to talk about trauma and don’t try to tell her about my experience – it’s not going to work. And let me tell you, taking that approach has actually worked. Given, I have only been back in the house for like two and a half days – it has not been long… but viewing myself as the experienced adult around here has really helped calm my nerves and settle the energy around here.

To embody this adult, unshakable and unconcerned personality, I’ve had to remind myself every day. I remember that I have gone out and had all of these crazy life experiences that I often forget. I have lived a pretty interesting adult life and I have earned every single thing that I currently possess for myself. Certainly, I should remember that there was never any help from mom and dad, except for the knowledge that I was on my own… which was pretty motivating in the worst way, I guess.

So, one of the most helpful ways that I’ve been able to achieve this adult integrated view of myself has been to put together a little bit of a highlight reel from my life. Not literally, but just by flipping through a certain recollective rolodex that I cultivated in my brain. I found that it is really helpful to just envision a lot of the things that I have done in the past – the things I’ve been through, good and bad.

Like raising myself through high school, setting off for college on my own and quickly finding a job in a cellular biology lab with zero experience… presenting research findings at the experimental biology conference in 2013, when I was still an undergraduate speaking alongside doctors from Harvard and Yale. Or, going to South Africa among complete strangers for a month, dealing with all of my stress-based illness bullshit, and getting a real working professional job a few times over when I was waaaay less that qualified. Moving across the country, being a bomb-ass step mom, leaving an abusive relationship (a lot quicker than I give myself credit), quitting my last toxic job. Uh, creating this whole fucking project that apparently helps people even though my brain can’t possibly comprehend it.

You know, I really just put together a quick recollective reel to myself that I have actually done things in this lifetime. On my own. That seem cool from the outside. I have made good decisions and cared for myself. I have set out by my lonesome and been successful. I have met a ton of people, made a billion friends, and had important relationships that validated my feelings. I haven’t always felt so down, trapped, and powerless. I’ve been all over the place and I’ve tried to create a life for myself, rather than for other people.

You know, my mom cannot say any of those things. She has not experienced life, she has lived a very sheltered one. She has always done the bare minimum to just get by, in accordance with her outdated social standards. Getting married, popping out kids, staying at home to raise them. Did she want any of that? No, but it was the easiest option when HER parents weren’t supportive. In the past 62 years she has not done any work on her internal world or self-improvement. She hasn’t come to terms with her own maternal or romantic abuse. She has not settled up anything from her past and she is never going to.

My journey has been weird. Sometimes impressive, sometimes worrying. Buttfuck, at least I have seen and learned a lot along the way that my mom and the rest of my family have never ever even considered experiencing. They live in this very small and protected semi-suburban location where they never have to face anything or own up to who they are. Living in an echo chamber of dysfunction.

Meanwhile, my mom wants to Lord over other people because she does have some sense of inferiority and insecurity for all of these reasons. She tries where she can be in control and she can feel like she is superior somehow. That is why she continually offers her help to my brothers and I… and then just uses that as a way to control everyone through shaming and aggression, guilt and victimization of herself. Again… more on that in our next episode.

Uh, it’s been really enlightening therapy sessions so far is what I’m saying. Things that I KNOW, but I need to hear someone else say them out loud. Someone I trust because they have expertise and experience that no one in my household possesses, self included.

So that’s where I’m at.

I am in a fairly calm and reintegrated state. I am feeling much better. I am feeling capable of dealing with this living situation, as long as needed. Though I don’t want that to be very long.

I don’t have to fear her or what she’s saying to other people, because none of it matters. It’s literally like concerning myself over the thoughts of a 5 year old and her perpetually sticky friends – they have no idea what the world is like, how people act, or how absurd their perspectives are. Plus, I know that if the time comes and I need to depart, I have the power to do that, too. I’m not stuck. I’m not helpless. I’m not doomed to live under her thumb. And she doesn’t have to affect me anymore.

I feel so much tension lift just as I think about that. I’M the healthy one who needs to be directing the show? I can just walk out and take my progress with me whenever necessary? Fuck. Well I forgot all of that over the course of being repeatedly broken down and scared into compliance. Funny how that happens.

Through all of these things coming to the surface, I have clearly realized many new layers of his trauma life that I’ve been living. I guess this is probably always going to be part of this whole CPTSD recovery process, right? I don’t know if there’s ever a point where you reach the bottom of the trauma barrel when everything was so early in your life, so easy to accept, and so subtle.

Again, the sneaky ways that complex trauma has been imparted on us are really challenging to pinpoint. We talk about that all the time. So I realize this is just really another necessary step on my stupid trauma recovery / trauma management journey, even though it feels awful. Revealing new, more feminine abuse areas that need attention, after all the years of dealing with blatantly aggressive men is just my next task on the trauma to-do list.

And can I also say…. who knows if I ever would have landed here, had circumstances not all aligned perfectly. If I had continued living separately from my mom, across an entire country, would I have ever uncovered these new shame and worthlessness trends? Probably not. If I wasn’t working on this trauma project during our cohabitation, would I have uncovered these covert problems? I don’t think so.

It took a global pandemic, a cerebellar hypoplasia dog adoption, an attempted dictatorship, and so many components of Traumatized Motherfuckers to get me here. Otherwise, I would have lived my life unaware of the covert abuse. And, shit, maybe some of you would have, too.

Everything fell into place, and I have to think that it’s maybe all crumbled this way so that I could meet the final boss of my trauma management. I spent so much time in therapy tackling obvious abuse from my dad, my ex, my coworkers… but realizing that the narratives in my head which keep me trapped, continually terrified, and self-hating are actually from the more subtle behaviors of my mother? Oh shit. That’s a whole other beast to tackle. And it’s one that explains a lot of the later monsters who’ve been permitted in my life.

Like, why DID I ever end up in those abusive situations in the first place? Ah. Yeah. Probably feelings like human garbage who had no other options didn’t help me avoid or exit those scenarios, huh? Huh. Thanks mom. For passing down the abuse acceptance that has dominated your life… via more abuse towards your children to normalize the experience.

After so many discussions of your victimized marriage, too. Fantastic. Generational trauma here we go again.

Anyways. That’s where I’ve been. That’s what I’ve been learning and concentrating on. That’s how I’m back in my mom’s house again, keeping my shit under control. And yep, that’s why I’m back in therapy and so glad to have an amazing practitioner on my side.

Sidenote: does anyone else get really angry that we have to pay for therapy because of the sins of our entire families? Why is this solely my responsibility to shell out cash for how shitty everyone else is, when they refuse to help themselves? I have to carry the burden for the whole group, because they’re too scared. And, meanwhile, having them shame and control you over money problems… I mean, the irony never ends. Glad to have a new expense on my plate to make that goal of leaving my mom’s house even harder to obtain… because of the triggerings in my mom’s house forcing me into therapy. Fak.

There’s a metaphor here somewhere for larger society, poverty, and mental health treatment, but I’m not going to explore it right now.

Okay, the point here wasn’t to bitch or to get into reasons why I want to burn our current society to the ground. I just wanted to let everyone know that things are okay and this trigger sesh is over. There are lessons to come of the whole thing that can probably be used in various abusive situations. Plus, I’m really glad that I can recover from upsets like that so quickly these days, and I cannot recommend learning about the nervous system and personality parts enough in order to accomplish that for yourself.

Also… a good therapist. Please, please, please, if you haven’t found a trauma informed therapist yet, go do it. I can’t tell you where I’d be without mine.

Lastly, I want to apologize if that episode was too triggering or too personal for anyone. I gave a TW, but considering how I didn’t know about covert abuse in my life until a few weeks ago… uh… good chance some people lept in and triggered themselves, anyways.

I also want to state that I’m not a fucking victim and I’ll be real pissed, like I said, if people start talking to me like a beaten dog. I’ve got enough skills to keep this shit locked down… even if I’m pushed into a trauma state with some unsavory and maladaptive coping strategies first. And that’s a 180 degree shift from Jess a few years ago, who would have been in a continual state of upset for the next few weeks and probably ruined everything in her life in a spiral.

That’s what I’m doing here talking about trauma in the first place – telling you that shit is still hard, but change is possible. There might be backslides in your progress, but you still need to recognize that there is definitive progress, nevertheless.

Taking steps away from your unexamined life history isn’t always stable or pretty. There are still upsets as you continue to peel back layers of your life and realize exactly how much they did stick with you, now that you stop pretending it’s all part of your natural born identity and so-and-so “just tried their best.” You might continue to uncover things that deeply shake you, call your life into question, or make you wonder if you’re too flawed to love in the aftermath… but then you talk to someone with more perspective and realize it’s all part of the process.

So, I don’t know, I hope this completely unexpected series on living with an abuser helps to demonstrate more than my ability for reporting on girl fights.

And I have a lot more to say about the whole thing… both immediately, and surely in the future as I continue to work through these issues while also cohabitating with the source of the issues.

To start with… next up… you may have guessed this. We’re going to discuss covert narcissism. I only just discovered this brand of emotional abuse and from what I can tell, it basically summarizes my past experiences with what I’ve always considered “beta narcs.” The folks who aren’t all flash and intimidation with their narcissism, but rely more on the lower route of being the “nice guy or gal,” victimization, and manipulation.

AKA – The men who I date… and who seem very strangely similar to my mother when they’re upset… now for very obvious reasons. Gross.

So that’s where we’ll meet here in a couple of days. Talkin bout covert narcs. I hope you’re ready to start side-eyeing a good portion of the people you probably hang out with, because, again, we are narcissist magnets and these sneaky ones just feel too much like home. It’s those lack of boundaries, I swear.

I can tell you as of this morning, my boundaries were already crossed. I told the woman, “It’s recommended that we don’t discuss this for a while, so the situation doesn’t escalate again.” Annnnd then she chased me around, talking anyways. This resulted in her eventual panicked assertion, “so we’re just going to live with tension for a month in silence?!”

Hahaha, well, basically, yes. That’s the option. Reminds me of my favorite internet comment. “Well well well, if it isn’t the consequences of my own actions…” My mom must not have encountered this before.

Anyways.

Thanks for tuning in, Fuckers. Thanks for the non-pitying and highly connective messages I received already. Turns out… like usual… a lot of us are in exactly the same boat while feeling shipwrecked on desert islands. And so are our parents, who have no idea how to embody that role without repeating what their parents did to them.

Ugh, it sucks having empathy for everyone when you start realizing that abuse is no one’s first choice. But don’t let your compassion for them outweigh your care for yourself.

So. Remember. Your family ain’t right. They have no idea how fucked up they are. They don’t care to find out because it’s scary. It’s a massive waste of energy and sanity to try to force them to understand you, themselves, or your shared experiences. And you don’t need their approval. Chances are, if they approved of what you were doing, you’d be just as messed up as the rest of them. Other chances are, it’s impossible to earn their positive regard because they project so much negativity from their feelings about themdamnselves.

And when we can’t win, we just say… Fuck it! My new theme song.

Repeat after me.

Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you. Y’all might be deeply traumatized, and for that I feel boatloads of compassion… but I’m the only one around here doing anything about it. Trying to change it. Trying to break the pattern. You can take the victim card, it’s all yours. I’m going to keep rolling along as the only honest, accountable, and improvement-directed member of the family. As the only one who wants cyclical abuse towards self and others to end. As the only Traumatized Motherfucker.

Remember that every time you start to long for family connection.

And remember this. You’re fucking amazing. There’s nothing wrong with you, except your desire to change the family narrative. You aren’t a black sheep, you’re a glowing, majestic, incredibly capable ewe. And no one can take that away… no matter how much they shame you about a little dirt.

Keep thrashing, friends. We’ll sort this all out with research and shared stories. And I’ll talk to you Fuckers later.