Assorted Notes

02/10/2025: I used to have a special interest in psychology/mental health/self-help born out of the desire (need) to understand myself, to understand why, how I was fundamentally flawed.

He gave me a gift– complex PTSD– and for that reason, I'll be a victim of his abuse for the rest of my life. Thanks, [redacted].

My experience– my being– is inherently transgressive.

It doesn't stop me from feeling like a fucking lozer lazy-ass failure.

Who are you to tell me my experience isn't real?

Who are you to tell me my perception is distorted?

Therapists that don't acknowledge the inherent power they hold over a client are dangerous.

Therapists that blame the client (the individual) for systemic issues are dangerous.

Like, emotional flashbacks actually feel like dying-like I'm being annihilated.

Why must I constantly be working on myself? Workign towards a "cure" for incurable (chronic) issues?

When will I be enough?

I wish people would stop recommending me therapy and meds. My "problem" isn't chemical, it's systemic. I've seen too many inept therapists who harm more than they help.

Here's a tip:

Maybe don't use your shitty CBT on your clients with CPTSD. It's clinical gaslighting as far as I can tell.

I know now what's "wrong" with me. Some of it is overly pathologized, a natural result of the environment and my circumstances, and some of it is helpful understanding, begging to be accepted, but it is met with shame, my protector, scared but smart.

And don't fucking tell me to meditate.

My dissociation protects me. I'd rather like to avoid (visceral) emotional flashbacks if I can.

Maybe therapy just isn't for me.

I tried. God, I tried so fucking hard. You can only handle so much failure before it crushes your spirit in totality.