I can't relate to anyone. I've never been able to relate to anyone.

I can't stand the lot at work; they all talk so normally and casually, like nothing is bothering them, no trauma or anything. Having to listen to them go on while I languish in post-traumatic flashbacks is beyond torture for me. Each day passes without consequence. With each day that passes, I feel like a bit of my sanity is lost. I don't want to open my mouth to talk with them, or with anyone. I just can't relate to anyone. My newly remembered trauma -- which even I cannot believe sometimes -- makes me feel alienated even more. I'm too scared to confide in anyone. Nothing excites me anymore. They all hate me. I've snubbed them all way too frequently before. They're not going to like it if I try to share any of their interests; not like I can anyway, since I can't really enjoy much these days. I'm too tired to feel. Sometimes, I'm so engrossed within my recollections that I forget what I live for, and why they matter to me. I venerate my memories too much, thinking them to be wholly representative of what happened back then. I can't even tell what I'm feeling sometimes. Sometimes, I just get angry for my grandfolks for being unable to be arsed to spirit me off that bleeding isle. There was so much danger on there: a narcissistic cousin out for my blood, that cousin's mother, who had been driven mad by her son and wanted to hurt me just as much as she wanted to hurt her son, a delusional cousin trying to frame me as the bad guy she thought I am, and a BPD mother that would break my legs if it meant that I'd stay with her. My grandfolks ignored it all; they said it was all fine. For years, they had been told to take me far away from Hawaii. For years, I had said I hated it in that state. Still, my grandfolks refused to listen; they liked living in their Paradise while I languished in my unescapable Hell, surrounded by water, whose only exit-point, the airport, that my stalkers kept manipulating and sabotaging to their advantage. Remembering all these chases that may or may not have happened takes a toll on me. So does remembering how angry I was at my grandfolks. So does remembering how angry I was at my immediate family for not being arsed to get to know me properly. I always had to play the Fool for them, my mother especially; otherwise, they'd think I needed fixing. My emotional energy is just tapped out. I can't stop obsessing over it all. I wonder if there is a God; if there is, then He sure liked watching my life play like the joke it was, until he got to the punchline where my amnesiac self decided to up and leave, unaware of the dangers that had befallen him up 'til then.

You doin okay?

I'm a wreck that is too emotionally paralyzed to do any writing, coding, or drawing practice.

I'll just forward this block to my therapist for her appraisal, anyway.

https://gamefaqs.gamespot.com/a/forum/b/b226805f.png

AltOmega2 posted...

https://gamefaqs.gamespot.com/a/forum/b/b226805f.png

Sure, yeah, loneliness has always been my only friend, oxymoronically speaking; and I say this facetiously, of course, while in truth being serious to some degree.

Buddhist thought has transformed many thinking patterns in my life. For the better, of course. I wonder if it could be of use to you.

SrRd_RacinG posted...

I wonder if it could be of use to you.

Sometimes, I question if I want to be happy. I've been sad for so long that I've come to associate it as part of my identity. I always shy away from happines, compassion, and companionship and the like in any case; it's like being exposed to sunlight after spending years in total darkness.

What does your therapist suggest? What are some things you've learned from this person?

If there's one thing I've learned from Buddhist thought is that the foundation for feeling relation with others is suffering. When I say suffering, I mean some sort of "dissatisfaction" or "unsatisfactoriness". Everybody has it, whether it's visible or not visible. Your coworkers experience it as well. I experience it. My father, as well. This is the foundation. But before we can ever genuinely care about other people's sufferings, ours has to be taken care of.

The next step could be meditation, among others. Meditation is interesting because it's an attempt to tame the mind. The mind is like a wandering dog, a stray dog, it's off its leash. And when it wanders, it gets into trouble. Does this make sense to you?

I enjoy this parable; Have a read! (quite short)

No indoctrination here; Just a story of human compassion.

And maybe you feel like the woman in the story...

https://imcw.org/the-magic-mustard-seed/

When I forwarded this text to my therapist, she asked if my psychiatrist wasn't working out for me. It almost sounds like she's trying to get me on medication so that I won't bug her as much with my problems. It's almost like she wants me to keep holding in my feelings, when I've been doing just that to the point that I had gotten amnesia somewhere along the way, so that she doesn't want to listen to what I've got to say. I won't deny that this angers me. She seems to think I'm a sociopath that might do something rash if I don't keep my anger in check.

SrRd_RacinG posted...

What does your therapist suggest? What are some things you've learned from this person?

Just coping mechanisms, I guess; like compartmentalization and breathing exercises. That's about it, though. I've figured out lots of things by having her as a sounding board, though.

I had lived for ten years with the lot I had called my family. The more I lived with them, the more I realized that I had to keep playing dumb around them. They sort of were convinced that I'd kill them all in their sleep if I didn't. They had convinced themselves that I was a violent sociopath, and that any insult they threw at me would set me off. I didn't really get angry that easily, which was why they had come to conclusion that I was slow in the head. It didn't really occur to any of them that I just wasn't that type of person. They kept making up stories about who I was and how I was. That was why I constantly had to pretend that I had a memory that lasted no longer than a day, and that I was generally an imbecile. They felt like they were in danger otherwise. One day, I had forgotten why I had to pretend. I made the mistake of coming out to them, with predictably disastrous results. They felt like they were in danger from me. They kept trying to frame me for bad stuff they thought I was going to do to them. They kept striking me, hoping to return me to 'normal'. They kept saying I was a monster that needed to be subdued. They kept saying I was evil. They kept saying they were tired of waiting for me to hurt them. They called in a bunch of cousins to hurt me for them. I was in terrible danger from them. They felt entitled to hurt me, having convinced themselves of stories they had made up about me. They kept pointing at me and saying I had bloodlust. I had done nothing wrong; I had done nothing violent. Still, they insisted that the crap they had made up about me was real. To them, reality was whatever the fuck they thought it was; nothing was real until they believed it so. I had no aunts or uncles to go to; I was in contact only with families that seemed to always have someone out to hurt me. My grandfolks refused to take me away from Hawaii on all occasions I asked them to; it was their Paradise, while it was my Hell. Fuck them.

The amount of stuff I have to re-experience takes a really heavy toll on me. I just want a hug right now. :(

EclairReturns posted...

When I forwarded this text to my therapist, she asked if my psychiatrist wasn't working out for me. It almost sounds like she's trying to get me on medication so that I won't bug her as much with my problems. It's almost like she wants me to keep holding in my feelings, when I've been doing just that to the point that I had gotten amnesia somewhere along the way, so that she doesn't want to listen to what I've got to say. I won't deny that this angers me. She seems to think I'm a sociopath that might do something rash if I don't keep my anger in check.

It's more likely that she thinks medication would help you get into a better place to process your feelings therapeutically. For psychotherapy to work, the patient needs to be in a state where they can confront their feelings without being overwhelmed by them, processing them in a controlled setting that feels safe. If you're particularly overcome by anxiety or similar heightened emotions, though, confronting your feelings is likely to overwhelm you regardless of how carefully a therapist controls the setting, and you aren't going to feel safe. Medication can help to moderate those heightened emotions and make them more easily managed, allowing you to later wean yourself off of the medication once you've developed the skills to cope without it.

Think of it like an asthmatic training to run a marathon: If they don't take a puffer beforehand, they aren't going to be able to train for very long before they hit the limit of what their lungs can handle, and that's going to make it very difficult to build up their stamina. By taking a puffer, their asthma won't be bad enough to cut their training session short, allowing them to improve their stamina to the point that eventually they might not even need the puffer. Their personal trainer suggesting that they take a puffer isn't that trainer blowing them off as being a lost cause who will never get in shape, it's just recognizing that they're experiencing a disability that's going to interfere with their training and suggesting that treating it first will help.

SrRd_RacinG posted...

If there's one thing I've learned from Buddhist thought is that the foundation for feeling relation with others is suffering. When I say suffering, I mean some sort of "dissatisfaction" or "unsatisfactoriness". Everybody has it, whether it's visible or not visible. Your coworkers experience it as well. I experience it. My father, as well. This is the foundation. But before we can ever genuinely care about other people's sufferings, ours has to be taken care of.

I disagree with this as I find most people grossly lack compassion when they themselves have nothing to worry about and are in a good place. It's the people who are suffering that have the most compassion as they have experience and can relate to it.

Salrite posted...

I disagree with this as I find most people grossly lack compassion when they themselves have nothing to worry about and are in a good place. It's the people who are suffering that have the most compassion as they have experience and can relate to it.

I can understand your sentiment. My response would be that we can never assume "they themselves have nothing to worry about and are in a good place" because we are not in their brains. It's difficult to do this. Our perceptions are skewed often. Our brains are enough to manage, let alone attempting to hop into the heads of others.

But I'm not sure all this advice is good for a person in TC situation haha Maybe the proper medication is a better first step. I'm not qualified :(

I will say, too a point, though. When you're overwhelmed with your own problems, it's difficult to show compassion for others when you don't have the time, resources or mental capacity to do so. I was much more able when I was unhappy, but stable. Now my life is a complete mess and my abilities to support others is diminishing.

SrRd_RacinG posted...

What does your therapist suggest? What are some things you've learned from this person?

If there's one thing I've learned from Buddhist thought is that the foundation for feeling relation with others is suffering. When I say suffering, I mean some sort of "dissatisfaction" or "unsatisfactoriness". Everybody has it, whether it's visible or not visible. Your coworkers experience it as well. I experience it. My father, as well. This is the foundation. But before we can ever genuinely care about other people's sufferings, ours has to be taken care of.

The next step could be meditation, among others. Meditation is interesting because it's an attempt to tame the mind. The mind is like a wandering dog, a stray dog, it's off its leash. And when it wanders, it gets into trouble. Does this make sense to you?

While I dont doubt that misery loves company or that acknowledging the suffering and that people are experiencing can be a way to form a relationship, but plenty of people also bond through positives.