Okay, maybe it’s not a catastrophe to you, but my survival-ridden brain thinks otherwise. If it weren’t, I wouldn’t be stuck in endless loops of the same trauma. That’s basically what PTSD is: when an event is so impactful that your brain can’t fully process it, and it gets stored until it’s triggered—or until you work through it. CPTSD/BPD is basically having A LOT of these stored traumas, popping up like popcorn in the microwave. I know—it’s absolutely exhausting and actually wears on the body from the constant demand to stay alive. So, while I understand that whatever is in front of me really isn’t that big of a deal, my body goes into overdrive, and my brain loops like a tiltaworl.
I can’t be the only overdramatic, spastic woman out here who goes from 0–100 over little things. Albeit, they feel enormous to my psyche (because even I realize how my behavior must seem). I’ve learned to take comfort in the fact that every outburst—or whatever you want to call it—is telling adult me where we need to focus so we can get regulated and catch up to present day.
Which brings me to today’s post: I had a catastrophe!
Getting officially diagnosed with ADHD and medicated has literally turned my life around. I feel like I went from driving with my feet like the Flintstones to flying cars like the Jetsons. ADHD meds are great—they regulate me enough that I can focus on what’s in front of me—but they don’t cure trauma. They quiet the mind so I can tackle the trauma. This week’s catastrophe? Homework.
I had finally caught up and was on track to get at least a week ahead, but then I couldn’t do it. I just couldn’t complete the task. A heavy brain fog moved in and rendered me useless. I pulled out every little trick in my toolbox, and still—nothing. Well, until I “cleared my cookies & cache,” or what The Crappy Childhood Fairy calls “The Daily Practice.”
The basic premise: identify what your resentment is, then journal to discover whether it’s rooted in fear or hurt. In my case, with the homework assignments, it was fear. When I tried to sit down, an overwhelming dread washed over me and clouded my thinking. After digging deeper, I realized I associated doing homework with the onset of my drinking and dropping out of college—TWICE.
I went back even further and there I was, sitting at the kitchen table with my aunt, trying to do homework under duress because SHE wanted it done in a very specific way. Needless to say, things didn’t shake out well—because I’m hard-headed and knew the teacher would throw out my assignment if I followed my aunt’s layout. How did I know? Because the teacher had done just that after I complied once before.
Fast forward to today: sitting down to do homework paralyzes me with fear. If I don’t do the assignment perfectly, I fear being thrown out of the house and left to fend for myself on the streets, since I constantly felt like an intruder. Present-day me feels that same paralysis. “If I don’t do it perfectly, I’ll end up on the streets… again.” The good news? I’ve survived worst-case scenarios, which I now suspect were self-fulfilling prophecies. And now, I know what to do.
When I sit down to complete an assignment, the discomfort rises—but by identifying it and bringing it into consciousness, the pressure loses steam.
“But you were able to submit your homework before! You must be lying—you’ve already completed four courses.” Insert eye roll.
Having CPTSD is like being swaddled in layer upon layer of blankets until you can’t feel anything. Then, as each layer gets pulled away, you’re exposed to more external stimuli, and new (old) stressors pop up to be addressed. It’s basically a never-ending game of whack-a-mole.
Now that I’ve written this out, it may seem a bit mundane. If this helps, I recommend using it as a model: find the message or event, identify the stressors, and bring it into consciousness by acknowledging it when it comes up. Eventually, the shadows turn to light, and you can move about the cabin freely.
barefacedbaddie 