sisyphus

It hurts to breathe. It hurts to think. It hurts to exist. I make progress and then crash even harder. I tried to tolerate the mistakes made by my last therapist but the impact of them is so huge. I have discovered that I am autistic which provides the missing link in my life experience but it does not point the way towards answers or relief.  I have established physical and psychological safety from the stalker by relocating to a different country but have a whole new set of problems I am not equipped to handle. I am almost completely alone. I am losing hope that there is any way out of this hell. 

Slowly, slowly, I'm finding my center and self again. 

Have been doing intensive PEMF therapy (Pulsed ElectroMagnetic Frequency). It is physically, mentally and emotionally the hardest thing I have ever done in my life. It  does finally seem to be getting easier., and the improvements are worth getting worse before I started getting better. Worse was very, very scary. Better is starting to feel like... me. 

My therapist told me that I was going through an ego death when I became overwhelmed with these recent urges to self harm. I don't know how she could tell that I was about to have a major shift, but she was right. I'm not interested in an ego death, I'm really whatever about that - I just want to be functional and not shaking to my bones all the time.

But something in me has found an acceptance of the way things are, and a willingness to enjoy my life again. 

All of the sudden one morning a few days ago my executive function came back on line. It's not 100%, but my brain doesn't feel like it's exploding all the time. My senses and perception are starting to normalize. This is good. 

I found out my son is telling people that I started shooting up and went crazy, because one of the seizure meds I tried was an injection. That hurt like hell for a few days and now I feel almost indifferent. The world where what people think of me matters, seems like lifetimes ago. 

I spent some time in the mountains with a good friend,  in a cabin with no technology. It was difficult to have so much one on one interaction as I have become accustomed to being alone, but by the end of our time together I was joking and making up little songs like I used to, and having memories that feel safe. She held me while I sobbed my guts out. I needed that, really badly. I stopped trying to talk over two years ago, and I don't exactly believe that it's ok yet, or that she wants to hear me, but it is good to talk again. 

I still feel pretty scrambled, and the anxiety waves goes through my belly in knots and sick. The grief is a less constant lump in my throat but still a lump. I still feel really trapped in my living circumstances, and have no clue where I would relocate.  One of my crowns crumbled  while I was eating and I broke a tooth. The red tape of my bankruptcy just left me without an entire paycheck I was counting on, but I'm not going into anxiety or distress.

I'm going to try weaning off my sleep meds to see what happens. Last night I got 5 hours of natural, restorative sleep. 

I guess the PEMF is working. 

Thank you to all the people here cheering me on, and sharing your own stories. I wouldn't have survived without you. I'm pissed at what they've done to us but glad we've found each other. 

I did not self harm yesterday. 
 

I am with friends and they are holding me through it

headed to the therapy pool soon

i hope I can do better 

Why do they do this? Why do they try to convince us this didn't happen? Why have I been punished for being violated? I want my life back. I want all this pain to go away. I can't make it stop. 

I can't stop myself. I've gone out screaming onto you tube and reddit trying to expose the atrocities of my family's missions organization. It's pointless. They are so self righteous and brainwashed. I found hundreds of other people out there doing the same thing. I don't understand why they won't just change their harmful practices. I don't understand how they could have made me repent over and over for my own CSA and attempts to un-alive myself. I don't understand how they are giving exorcisms to rape survivors and children. How do I move on? How do I heal? How do I stop hating myself? How do I stop myself from trying to get this abusive system to change? Why can't I accept that no one in my family cares about me?  How to I become a functional person again? I don't even know what that means anymore. 

I am suffering. 

I cracked again last night. 
 

From the day I said the word, “abuse” people started treating me differently.  I had no idea how bad it would get. Because the responsibility for the abuse has always been put on me, I thought that by directly confronting it, the dynamic would change. I had no clue that it would escalate so badly, or how incompetent my therapist was. I thought that clearly stating my needs in my health decline would bring compassion and support. 

I was so wrong. 

My (now ex) husband tried to rape me while I was sick with a mosquito virus. It was violent. He tore my clothes. My friends did not believe me and said it was my fault because I wasn’t having sex with him during my illness. 

When my family kicked me out of it, I thought that my wonderful friendships would help me get through it, and that I would be ok because they would care for me as deeply as I have cared for them through the struggles of life. 
 

I was wrong about that, too. 
 

when my health issues deteriorated, I tried to communicate clearly with my doctors about my very serious concerns. I thought they would order tests and help me at least identify and hopefully alleviate the extremely painful and  disruptive symptoms. Instead they tried to diagnose me as borderline and malingering. (No offense to borderlines - I understand & have great compassion, but I’m not borderline so the misdiagnosis is dangerous.) 

when I told my therapist that a man was soliciting my attentions, and that I felt unsafe, she went full throttle into getting me to accept him into my life. she shot down every healthy defense mechanism I tried to employ. She dismissed me when I tried to talk about my family kicking me out. She undermined an attempt to communicate with my doctors about the cognitive issues I was having. She said I was ruminating when I had flashbacks, and gave zero space in our professional relationship to talk about the disturbing memories that came up through the EMDR and somatic exercises.  When I was in shock after he SA’d me, she sent me back to apologize to him for hurting his wrist in self defense. 

when I tried to tell my remaining friends about the trouble with the therapist, they wondered when I was going to turn on them, and stopped talking to me. 

When all the covert sabotages of my life from the stalker became clear, and I ended up in a safe house, my friends attacked me and helped him.  They promised support then didn’t follow through and left me hanging. 
 

I told my sister that the seizures were getting worse, and she said “what seizures?” Id collapsed in front of her and been hospitalized multiple times, and been talking about them for three years. My father asked how my (ex)husband was doing a year and a half after I’d been talking about my painful divorce. They made demands upon me and punished me when I couldn’t meet them due to my health. They also punished me when I pushed myself to meet those demands.  It is like I don’t exist. I went dark because I was on the run for my life.  

I contacted family members asking for help and they accused me of being on drugs  

it took a full year of being completely alone, on the run, dealing with relentless stalking, homelessness, vandalisms, injuries, corticosteroid insufficiency, kidney failure, ptsd, back to back seizures, ostracism, shaming, interference with my legal case, being laughed at and called crazy before I finally started screaming at people. The direct line from the message that my life and safety don’t matter, to my hysterical emails is clear. I was fighting that message and trying to invalidate the senders with everything in me, even as I begged them to care about me. My situation became so big and desperate, that even people who cared about me just backed away for lack of knowing what to do - which was yet another cruel door slammed in my face. i got raped as the direct result of being homeless. My remaining friend was nasty and told me she was sick of my drama. I became suicidal, and I started screaming at everyone who had played a role in the trauma.

But this is when the shame kicked in and I started to believe that message. That it is all my fault and I deserve it. 
 

I stopped asking for help from any person or institution and just started isolating to stop the painful attacks on my person and to try to prevent any further outbursts. My best friend of 22 years made me promise that I would not isolate or withdraw from her. I did, easily, because I felt so safe with her. 

but then she got really angry with me for not staying out during Covid, even though I had no place safe to stay and I did everything I could to follow the protocols. 

When I finally received a small buyout from the stalker, my son and his friend convinced me to let them build me a tiny house in exchange for part ownership of the land.  As soon as their names were on the title the abuse began. My son was screaming at me to go on medication. I did, and had a reaction that almost killed me. He screamed at me for that, too. They robbed me and left me in a field in the middle of nowhere to freeze to death, and turned my remaining support system against me while the stalking was at full force and I was being sexually assaulted by his crew every time I left the house.  
 

my best friend of 22 years then attacked me for what I was doing to my son. I tried to explain the situation and she called me crazy. I asked her not to talk to me like that, and she eviscerated me. She and my son escalated the smear campaign. 
 

On every single side I was silenced for nothing more than trying to confront, and leave an unsafe situation. I lost everything amd everyone I valued in a snowball of misinformation, misunderstanding, and refusal to just try to find out what was happening. 

I tried to un-alive myself five times. I almost succeeded and had a near death experience, but even the suicide souls didn’t want me and said I didn’t belong there. The next morning   I sent out probably 50 messages saying I had no transportation and had about 24 hours of heat left.  One person responded. One. 

that was all it took to save my life. One person who cared about me. 
 

slowly, slowly for the last six months I’ve been pulling myself together. I’ve found some deep, valuable friendship and support. I’ve found a good therapist, decent doctors, and a medication that alleviates the ptsd. But it doesn’t get rid of it. I’m still suffering. I’m still trying to clean up the logistical mess I’ve been left with on the property, and I’m trying to clean it up and salvage my life from a place of utter depletion  

I don’t understand. I’m a good person. I’ve always been a stable, respected and respectful member of my community.  I’ve known that I was dealing with a dysfunctional family, but as all the trauma came up I started seeing over and over, throughout my life, how my family has punished me for  my attempts at healthy boundaries and relationship. The CSA memories I thought I had dealt with flooded me, along with the deeper understanding of my family’s role. The trauma episodes are terrible. All the PTSD models assume that the trauma has ended and safety has been established. 
 

These aren’t all terrible people, although some of them are. They are just self absorbed and misinformed.

Right? 

i broke down last night and sent more messages to the mission my family is part of. I sent messages to my father, and my sister, and a friend who betrayed me. I’m afraid my outbursts will threaten my living situation & the friendships I’m starting to feel safe in. I feel like I’m caught in a hall of mirrors with no way out, and I’m doing better and better at managing but the episodes of grief and fear and pain turn into panic and I just can’t manage myself.  I didn’t harm myself last night, and that’s good. 
 

my friends say that I’m the best friend they’ve ever had. I feel heard and seen and understood. My therapist says I’m the most skillful client she’s ever had. Why isn’t it enough? 
 

I just want the trauma symptoms to leave me alone. I just want to feel safe. I just want to do something, anything, to restore my relationship with my son, but it’s beyond my power to change. 

I’m hurting. 
 

Moving into recovery does not change the harmful obstacles and social norms that contributed to my breakdown in the first place. 

I am in recovery. I am healing.

I thought that meant restoring my sense of confidence and empowerment, and to some extent I have done that, and will continue to do so. Mostly, I just feel resignation. Acceptance of the things I can't change feels like resignation. I want to un-live these experiences, I want to backtrack and rewind and restore a mind that can feel even somewhat safe in the world. I'm so overwhelmed by everything that has happened to me, the impacts to my heart, body, and mind - and the impossible choices I have to make every single day. I want it all to go away. 

My life, safety, and well-being did not matter to many of the people in my life. Not only did they ignore, deny, minimize, dismiss and blame me for the severity of my situation, they actively contributed to the harm and undermined my ability to find safety. I don't think that was their intention, but that is what they did. My life as I knew it is gone. The way I understand and engage with the world has intricately changed, and I don't know how to be this new person yet. Both my memories and desires for my future are shattered.  I was left voiceless, and I continue to be voiceless in the face of so many violations, when I long for restoration and mutual understanding. Those are the facts.

These last few weeks, since the active shift into recovery, have been exhausting. I just made one big final push to return home, clean up the mess, and restore my independence. My attempt crashed and burned and created another mess. The truth is I simply don't have the emotional, financial, mental, physical, or social resources. My small handful of friends patiently and faithfully helped me deal with the mess - they did not shame me or blame me for having a mess, they are listening to and supportive of my choices even though I was pushing through by the skin of my teeth, and it was unsuccessful. They see that I'm trying to responsibly clean up a mess that I didn't make, and salvage what is left of my life.

I have a safe place to live. I'm slowly restoring a reciprocal, equal relationship with my benefactor. She has been patient with me. She trusts me. She lets me speak AND she holds good boundaries. Our arrangement has slowly shifted from being clearly temporary, to her offering me a long term home. The financial arrangement is unclear, but I do trust that we will have a sit down in proper timing. 

The cyber-stalking ended with my recent tech changes. It is a huge relief. I have been able to step back from my constant fear about the stalker. Right now, he is not an active problem. I can work with that. 

I don't have to pretend I'm ok when I'm not.  I can be gentle with myself even when others are not. I can restore gentleness towards myself and others even if I lose sight of it during a ptsd episode. 

I'm filing for bankruptcy. I'm taking it one day at a time, and I have to let go of the things beyond my control and capacity. Even the mess that I did not create but which I am left responsible for.  I escaped with my life, and just barely. 

Yesterday was a good day. It's important to take note when things DO go well, because it can be a source of hope. I've had a couple of people work very hard in recent months to help me get through it all - and I've worked hard, too. Yesterday was an accomplishment on so many levels. 

First, I've studied & practiced Chinese Medicine. I have a good understanding of what is going on with my body, mind and spirit from that perspective. I finally scrounged up enough money to buy the herbs I need and went to the student acupuncture clinic. That was hard as I have some old history with one of the staff. I requested a woman, and I felt safe being touched in a clinical way. I managed the Q & A well. I said what I needed to without revealing what I don't want to, AND I gracefully inquired about the staff member and found out what days she works so I can schedule on different days. The student selected the right points, the ones I would have chosen, and when I told her I have training and requested another couple of needles, we had an engaged conversation about why.  It felt good, and I wove a small piece of myself back together. The deep, constant shaking in my body quieted while I was on the table.

After, I responded to a text from an old friend. That was hard as the last time I saw her involved a major incident and we never really checked in. She offered to let me use her car while mine is in the shop and she is out of town. She works in a "biohacking" clinic. I'm familiar with most of the technology they are using. Some of it honestly I rate as quack medicine, but most of it is FDA approved and heavily researched. I received a free infrared light treatment, and had immediate pain relief. I also did a session with an electromagnetic pulse frequency machine on my brain and kidneys. The trauma relief is profound. I'm in a boat where I can't afford the 4-6 months of treatment I think it would take to bring myself back. I also can't afford not to, as Western medicine does not have answers or solutions for me.  I have been trying to get access to some progressive therapies through the hospital, but am having trouble getting approvals through my insurance and even with it the costs are outrageous. The cost at this clinic is a fraction of that, and would include rehabilitation for my injuries. I know that my kidneys are not working right, and that the nerve pain and heart palpitations are serious. Today gave me great hope that these disease processes can be halted or even reversed.  It is so good, even for a few hours, to not be constantly struggling with a broken brain and relentless PTSD.

I'm trying to let myself have hope and think creatively about how I can find a way.  

Also - the attorney!! Holy beans I'm SO GLAD I just waited and managed my reactivity. It turns out... that our conversations have affected him really deeply, and he is ready to confront his excessive drinking. He has been going through the very beginning stages of sobriety. He still has my back - and I am beginning to have some perspective. 

I still spent the day chewing on victim shaming comments from my cousin, but even before all these treatments, I felt more protective of my Self than I did wounded. 

I have been contemplating how success requires both Good Fortune and Hard Work. We are responsible for the Hard Work part, but if Fortune is not on our side, we have to wait for it to change. I am so grateful for the Good Fortune that has recently come into my life.

I’ve had some very rough days. 

I’m not ok. 

A few weeks ago I had an attorney show up. We had extensive conversations about my situation.  He extended his services and made commitments. He met with my therapist.  He understands clearly that my ptsd is life threatening. He made plans with me to walk me through the different steps of stabilizing my life while I stabilize me. He encouraged me to redirect my efforts.  My therapist walked me through several sessions of trust & receiving work. He asked me to work with him as though I were a paying client. 
 

he just dropped me. He did not explain why. He did not acknowledge the impacts to me that we had discussed. His involvement has made my situation worse, and I’m now months behind on trying to organize the major project of getting my tiny house built this summer. I made decisions thinking I had support if the restraining order was violated again. He promised to research cameras for my property and write the quit claims I need. I don’t understand why he would go out of his way to offer support then retract it. 
 

I can’t seem to stop texting & writing to the people who have harmed me and betrayed me to ask them why and beg them to please just talk to me & care about me, and screaming at them for the violations. I’m terrified that my housemate will decide I’m too much like everyone else and I will have to live on the streets, even as we are bonding and our friendship is getting deeper. I’m incapable of trust.   I don’t understand. I am so good to people. I always have been.  I worked so hard my entire life. I don’t understand why everyone has helped the stalker and doesn’t care about the things he’s done to me. My family has treated me like I’m dirty. I’m so scared, my health is falling to pieces along with my transportation. Ive become ostracized by people I’ve had deep relationships with for decades, without explanation or opportunity for understanding or restoration. As far as I can tell it’s just the smear campaign and my reactions to it. 
 

I’m tired of fighting to survive just do I can be in constant distress. The panic sensations are unbearable. The change in my personality is unbearable. The confusion and pain is unbearable. The loss and betrayal of my entire family and friends is unbearable. The fear of the stalker is unbearable. The theft of my life’s work & savings is unbearable. They even destroyed my photographs and stole my writing portfolio. I’m a good person. Murderers & rapists get treated better than this. 
 

I’m terrified of the people left in my life. I couldn’t handle it if one of them turned on me. They all tell me that I’m a better friend at my worst, than anyone else is at their best. 
 

but I have these friends, and I want to focus on that, but my wounds from being stabbed in the back are festering and won’t heal. 

I don’t want to hide in the basement anymore. I don’t want to be scared all the time. I don’t want to avoid all the things I used to love because I’m afraid of having PTSD episodes. I’m so tired of my brain not working right. I don’t want to fight one more ignorant victim shaming while I try to come alive again. I want to live my life without fear of what he will do to me next. I want to be able to blow off the aggressive MF’s making sexual comments like I used to.  I want to make peace with what my family & friends did, and focus on the people who are showing up now and helping me survive.  

So many of us here have survived horrific torture. I want so much for us. I’m becoming more ok, more often. But no matter how many times I come up for air, I always go back under.

I had an effing panic attack for no immediate reason except that I was finally fully enjoying myself for a while.  

I have so much grief and anger for what was taken from me, from us.  I want to believe I can have a good life again.  
 

I want to go home. 

Afraid to be happy? 
 

An old friend came and swooped me up for an impromptu vacation. As in, two weeks in Costa Rica. I had two days notice, and  I was so depressed and so concerned about panic attacks & travel that I almost didn’t come. 

I’m glad I did. This time has been deeply nourishing, and I’m only on my second day here. She, too, has experienced major trauma since we last saw each other 3 years ago. She, too, thought I no longer wanted her or loved her as we were both treated badly by the same group of friends. 
 

The beach has been nourishing & wonderful. My new meds are helping a lot. We have cried a lot as we’ve shared stories, and last night she held me tight when the panic hit. I have been so cut off from human contact that it is work to believe I actually have support and love. We have both spent a lot of time building each other up where our beloveds have torn us down.  We have laughed, too - and the frown on my face was becoming so constant that it actually hurts my muscles to smile. 
 

Being with her and the ocean feels so easy & natural, and I feel like myself for hours on end. 
 

then I remember. 
 

I remember what happened and I swear it’s like my brain slides sideways. Nothing makes sense. I feel like I’m doing something wrong. I’m afraid to be hopeful.  I feel like I don’t deserve her generosity, and I’m embarrassed and ashamed that she has to pay for everything. She corrects me - she WANTS to provide for me and reminds me of all the ways I used to provide for her... before it all happened. 
 

but those moments where I can forget are so precious. 

Anyone who sees this... pocket riders, please. everything is changing, I'm finally receiving support and honestly I'm scared to receive it. I can't fathom a life outside of running and hiding and being violated and frightened all the time. 

I am returning to my home this weekend. My new attorney and his wife are going with me. It is a 4 hour drive and he wants to get a better handle on my case, and figure out what is going on, and how to secure my home, and possibly return to the police as we anticipate more theft and vandalism from my son and his friend.  That is the hardest part, not knowing what I have to face when we get there. I may have to go back to the police again, but at least I will not be alone. 

It is so hard. Two years ago I was a normal person. Now I can barely even talk or be around people. I'm reactive, and scared to get in the car with them for 4 hours, even though they have gone to great lengths to help me feel safe and are trauma sensitive. 

My son. My son helped do this to me. I found a location where I felt safe from stalker #1. My son promised to build me a house, so I could finally have a home to recover and heal. Instead he robbed me and left me in a field to freeze to death, and has been helping his friend destroy what little remains of my good life over the last six months. I just don't understand how or why he could do this to me. 

I'm so tired of being in trauma. I don't remember what it was like to not be terrorized. It is 24 hour a day psychological r*pe.   

Day 2 on low dose naltrexone. No flashbacks. I feel a strange emptiness where I've been constantly shaking for the last five years. I find myself wondering what I want to start doing with my time, if I'm not having constant panic attacks. 

Is it real? I have a home, and I am loved. After figuring out who my friends aren't, I feel really good about who my friends are. I have an attorney, and any more attacks and restraining order violations will be supported. I have a good therapist. I think I just found the right medication. 

My brain forgot how to hope a long time ago. It hurts to feel my sense of hope coming back. It hurts as the blocks to human connection & love are coming down, even just a little. 

I refuse to rush my healing, because I can't.