Yes I know: relationships are hard for most people at the best of times. But I really don’t think it’s the same playing field when you’ve had childhood trauma to contend with and a dysregulated, handicapped nervous system that wreaks havoc with day-to-day living (and imbedded, unconcious neediness), which has left me with a trail of relation-shits as I like to call them and the inability to have constant, meaningful relationships in my life. This manifests as people floating in and out of my life, friends and lovers alike, oblivious that they are ghosts from a time gone by, re-enactments of unhealed wounds, reminders of the past that I’d just put down to ‘having a bad childood’. It’s true: feelings that you haven’t fully let go of and wounds that haven’t healed pop up as people to remind you that there’s unfinished business. Little did I know that I’ve been living with trauma all of my adult life (until a very rude awakening that slapped me in the face last year) and that a lot of the people I’ve met and situations I’d been in were mirrors to show me what needed healing.
Coming back to the rude awakening last year – this was one of those mirror-moments, a really huge trigger than left my heart falling out out of my arse and which kick-started my healing journey in earnest. I guess I should be thankful but I still think she’s a callous cunt so there’s some healing to do there….I honestly didn’t realise I had tracks of trauma that I’d been living with for over three decades until I was unceremoniously jolted by that visceral shock, knocking me sideways, leaving me reeling, so aghast that I couldn’t catch my breath. That was in February 2024 when, feeling vulnerable and threatened and already on the floor, a shadow of my former self (after leaving The Narc), I was cut off callously, literally overnight (and I *mean* overnight no hyperbole – friends on 13 February 2024, discarded the next day 14 February 2024) by someone I thought I had a close and meaningful friendship with (at last). And we did get on extremely well. It was effortless – you know those effortless friendships where it feels so comfortable, no topic is taboo and it just ‘fits’ – like a hand in a glove. The friendship felt like that which is why the betrayal hurt so badly. All I needed from her was emotional support and instead I got a kick in the ribs and an emotional good-hiding, thrown to one side like a piece of useless rubbish. Oh the irony – the day before the dumping, it was her feeling vulnerable and threatened by a situation that was “giving her palpitations” and I was there to offer her practical, sisterly support. I still haven’t fully let go of that betrayal – it’s astonishing isn’t it how inhumane women can be towards one another? But it ignited the wound which was screaming out, begging to be soothed, needing to breathe, needing me to help it make sense of the senseless. Another bites the dust. And here I am.
The sudden, totally unforseen abandonment and betrayal that hit me that day like a runaway train left me with the bleak realisation that I still had open childhood trauma wounds (that I thought I’d healed) that by then were a festering decay stemming from deep abadonment wounds and betrayal from when I was about 12. I was desperate to feel better from this visceral jolt, knowing that my inner child wasn’t healed so I dived into research and reading and realised that I’ve been living with unhealed trauma and CPTSD for all my life.
And it began to explain quite a lot for me. Especially the trail of relation-shits and my stark friend-less-ness and permanent residency in Single-dom.
My tracks of trauma look like this: being over-emotional at minor things, the inability to control anger and rage (and flying off the handle at the smallest things); hypervigilance and hyper-defensiveness, preparing for danger or fights with The Voice of impending doom; suffering with ‘outsider syndrome’ with a constant ‘ugly-duckling-I-don’t-belong feeling; social awkwardness in groups with a strong sense of disassociation; generally feeling like a sad sack and not seeing the positives in life with an underlying sense of fragility; feeling like a general fuck up; inability to take a joke and being “highly strung” labelled as “over sensitive”; low self-esteem combined with toxic shame of unworthiness, causing over neediness, external validation, over-friendliness and clinginess, sometime people pleasing; living life behind a mask whilst there’s a pain body stuffed deep down which wants to purge itself but can’t, manifesting in a ‘she’s not in the room’ feeling and, to top that off living life on a constant warp-speed setting that doesn’t allow you to slow yourself down to enough to discern what’s good for you and what isn’t. Not knowing how to dream and the inability to make decisions based on thriving. Capiche?
Then there’s cold hands and cold feet, bad circulation, curled toes and clenched fists; furrowed brow; tense body and really tight hip flexors…
The relation-shits have come in the form of friends and lovers; I have always yearned for a feeling of belonging and connectedness, searching for the family I never had (who abandoned me although they deny this in their narcissistic victimhood blame-game); a flock, a group, a tribe, that’s always evaded me. I envy those who have extended family for visits, vacations and special occasions. The wound aches for validation and the feeling of importance, especially from men (I hate admitting that but it’s true). I have always jumped head first into sub-standard relationships, as far back as I can remember, devoid of the ability to discern or assess if a guy was right for me or not; all I wanted was to find someone and get it over and done with, like ticking a box on a to-do list, rather than having an absolute ball, living my life to the fullest and if a guy comes along, then he’ll be a welcomed addition to that. This was my default modus operandi: if a guy liked me, even if I had my doubts and wasn’t sure, I’d ‘give him a chance’, get way too close way too quickly without getting to know him properly, and before I knew it, I was in a fully blown relation-shit. The alarm bells would be ringing in my head, the dolly in my pocket would be hopping mad, screaming at me “leave him!!!” (if you’ve read the story of Vasalisa in the forest and the dolly, you’ll know what I’m talking about) but I’d “give him a chance” anyway, intentionally picking a boobie-prize knowing I was going to be letting myself down, and proving myself right early on into it but staying for way too long, knowing he was no good for me. In my 20’s, like a lot of young women my age, I was inexperienced and just wanted to find a guy and settle down. that’s my excuse for the younger me.
But I never grew out of that for the next 20 years….
I crave connection, closeness and love; I crave belonging. And I chase it. And ususally what you chase runs away. All my latest posts seem to be centred around this theme, not intentionally conjured up, it’s just where I’m at and I feel the need to write about it. Writing about it helps me make sense of it. Being a child of trauma I’ve searched for love and connection rather than letting it find me naturally, often in the wrong places; there’s a void that needs filling, an emptiness that doesn’t want to be acknowledged or felt, desperate for friends and groups but finding myself quite alone; and ending up in relation-shits, a pattern that I’m now uber concsious of and want to change in earnest.
But I know I have to belong within my own body first, fully, enjoying the silence, and find a sense of wholeness and completeness in the solitude, in the loneliness, welcoming the shadows, and make my own skin a happy haven rather than a hostile battle field where I’m running away from myself. I have to hold hands with every wounded part of me, make friends with them, understand them and welcome the journey as we connect and find a sense of belonging, filling the empty spaces as we go along…it’s only when that relationship is so strong that the external will reflect the beloved within…
If baring my soul to you (and the world) has moved or touched a part of you in any way, then your support would be very welcome. To help me on this healing journey, perhaps you’d like to buy me a coffee (although mines a tea) via the link below:
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