7 Things I Learnt About C-PTSD From Poking About in My Past for My Memoir

School holidays and a Covid Christmas are gifts of time 🎁

Hey, hey, my beautiful readers,

It’s a month since my last blog because I’m concentrating on less so I can focus more. And it’s working. That ol’ ADHD brain calms its farm when there’s less on its plate. 🍽️

But, I wanna take a beat to connect with you, to tell you I love you and that the work is getting done.

I’ve learnt a few things during this process. (Loads). But for now, I’ll share 7 that come to mind this month. I’ve pushed through some real icky material from my youngest years, had some epic treatments to give me emotional releases I didn’t think possible, and ramped up my self-care practices.

It’s resulted in me being a joyful soul. I’m writing about the very thing that traumatised me, and I feel F*$KING GREAT!

And the biggie is that I’m writing almost daily. If I’m not producing more word count, I’m re-reading, re-planning, tweaking, or brainstorming. It’s all ‘doing the work’.

On that, I’ll get into the 7 things right now, as I need to get back to the edit up to 25,000 words. Almost there. 💪

Reading one of my favourite memoirs to date. And I’ve read 100s.

7 Things I Learnt From Revisiting The Past

1. Self-reflection and understanding - my mind is a dangerous neighbourhood and I’ve been advised not to go in there alone! 😆 Seriously, it distorts memory, it latches onto the pain with its negative bias and broad-brush sweeps entire parts of my history.

   I’m a very different woman from the one that lived my teen years and early adult life.

   I’ve learned to see events in new ways and be compassionate for myself. I’ve remembered things differently with a way kinder lens. That’s a beautiful gift. ⛅️

2. Emotional expression - Complex PTSD leads to suppressed emotions. I can’t cry in normal situations in life, especially when others are crying, or it’s someone talking about something awful. Or, embarrassingly, when someone’s overjoyed to see me or is saying goodbye, and tears flow…nada. I’m blank. 😞

   When I’m writing the ick bits of the book, I do a shimmy of a shudder to shake it off, but that’s it. Then, I’m on with the rest of the day. It’s part of the detachment process. Which is a good thing…so my therapist says. I can compartmentalise.

   But, I felt like I had a piece of granite stuck somewhere deep down, with a diamond inside. My compressed tears.

   So, I did something about it. I’ve learned to seek help when I can’t fix something.

   I came across the most incredible breath work coach, @Ella Pike, co-founder of @The Breath Haus and had a life-changing session. I sobbed TWICE! Short but guttural releases that were pure sadness for what I went through and the fight it’s been to live. Then I laughed hysterically, relieved that it’d worked on me. 🙌 This also counts as ‘doing the work.’

Thank god I ate waffles and bacon and had beach time before Covid hit.

3. Validation and empowerment - sometimes my head tells me, ‘It’s not so bad,’ as Dido sang. And that I should be fine. (Let’s ban the word ‘should’.)

   Now, let me be clear. I am not a victim. I don’t sit in the past; I’m better than ‘fine’. However, what happened has defined who I am and imprinted me as a child. So now I’m wired this way.

   What can I do about it? I choose to change. I do the work. And it doesn’t end. That’s the reality.

   Writing about it and going over it many times, I’ve learned greater self-love, acceptance and patience.

4. Building resilience - I’ve become an even tougher cookie with a gooier inside. 🍪 Tough in the way that I can openly talk about the hard stuff. I can watch what used to trigger me without it mattering. I can listen to other’s stories of trauma without making it about me. I can revisit the stuff on the page that I thought would have me in the fetal position, bawling on the carpet.

   And I’ve grown an appreciation for what a bloody fighter I am.

   I’ve learned the past can’t hurt me anymore.

My friend’s beach house deck. Divine.

5. Identifying triggers and patterns - boy-o-boy, there have been 100s of these little b*ggers. Anyone who knows me well can list at least 5 things I’ve been addicted to. My relationship pattern is like crazy paving!

   I used to feel like a landmine, waiting for people, TV shows or new stories to set me off. A year ago, I got super triggered by Jagged Little Pill, Alanis Morrisette’s musical. I was reeling for days.

   But now that I have unpacked how I feel about the teen me, I’m coming to peace with the version of life I led. I’ve grieved what I ‘coulda, shoulda’ had. And let go.

   And I’ve done A LOT of work on changing my acting out and relationship behaviours over the years.

   I’ve learned you can change anything (about yourself) when you set your mind to it.

6. Connecting with others - one of the most incredible things to come out of this is a deeper connection with my Mum and my girlfriends. They all know I’m working on this beasty (I mean beauty) of a book. It’s caused some concern as I have to take care not to tell other’s stories or out myself for arrestable offences (joking…or am I? 😆)

   And because I’ve learned my memory is flawed and, in some cases, I’ve selective amnesia, I’ve needed to ask a lot of questions.

   I’m in a WhatsApp group with the girls I’ve known since primary and secondary school, and they’ve been fantastic at sharing hilarious memories and giving me a reality check.

   It’s powerful to ask your bestie of 20+ years, “What was I really like?” And learn about the split personality she experienced and that you were always loveable.

   And the most profound is asking Mum, “How was it for you?” Because growing up, it was all about me. Now, middle-aged myself, I want to know what it was like to have life explode and to rebuild from the most awful circumstances.

   I’ve learned not to be a know-it-all and that it’s not all about me. I’ve learned there’s a deep connection to be had when we ask about the past and hold space for the answers.

Covid Christmas. Beautiful deliveries from strangers in the neighbourhood.

7. Finding healing and closure - the initial writing process was healing. It was a big download in the first year of lockdown. 10 months to spew out 100,000 words.

   Since then, it’s been editing. Leaving it in a box. Editing. And now redrafting with my mentor.

   The first write was incredibly cathartic. I learned that the story is just that. Words on a page. They can’t hurt me.

   My therapist said I’d unknowingly put myself through intensive desensitisation writing therapy. And it worked.

   I’ve revisited some of the most painful times. So much was swept under the very British carpet. And social services in the 90s were sh!t. There was a lot of damage. Stuff I used to get resentful about. But I’ve let it go.

   I’ve learned forgiveness of people, places, and things.

   And that is freedom. 🥳

Okay, time to get back to the memoir.

Thank you for being with me.

I truly hope this book gets out there and helps others heal.

I am the epitome of thriving in life, and I fookin’ love it.

Blessing for 2024.

Much love. ❤️

Mwah 💋