CPTSD: The Holiday Edition

I know what is expected of me on Christmas Day - The big day after months of building to, well not a lot. I walk the dog, I make a stress-free roast dinner for three. Then I get really sleepy, like I have run a marathon wearing a 19th Century Diver's suit.

This day arrives after weeks of my body getting tighter - And as I have grown older, a nervous bladder thing happens too - where within five minutes of voiding, I feel pressure and the need to pee for the billionth time.

Christmas and New Years is a time that I associate with survival and endurance. It is baked into my nervous system after years of (mostly) covert narcissistic abuse and neglect, and living under constant threat. It was not spoken about, or acknowledged; my mum protected my dad's right to be an arsehole and her right to be powerless. But I lived in terror and under pressure to be 'unproblematic' - or rather invisible. I had to be perfect and perform as though nothing bothered me, and join in with the pretence that my father wasn't abusive and scary. For my first few years of life I was told he was, 'unwell', and that if I complained about his behaviour to him, it would, 'upset him'. Then when he was apparently 'better', it was the threat of his passive aggressive anger and the power he held to manipulate with guilt, fear and shame.

He might leave us

He might die

He might kill me

He might hurt me out of the blue, again

The holiday period meant that my dad was off work. Which would have been nice if he wasn't the particular brand of 'father' he was. He was a narcissist and it was his time off . Oh and did I mention that he was depressive and hated it if anyone was having a better time than he was?

Anyway, the upshot was that we had to do whatever he wanted to do, which was usually walk around until he was tired and then he would crash out. Spoiler alert - he did not tire easily.

He treated any outings like he was separate - like a carer taking us out for exercise, or perhaps walking a friend's dog? There was no interest in the family, and if anyone didn't like what we were doing, he would sulk and punish us passive aggressively. Mum and dad also never told us what they were planning, and got angry when asked. This created massive anxiety in me, and as an autistic person, it was horrible to be unable to prepare myself.

It was HIS TIME though - he had given up his free time for us and we should be grateful!

So I was uncomfortable, bored, cold and tired and not allowed to voice my own needs - My mum said she wanted to, 'keep the peace', and wouldn't challenge my dad being sulking and nasty as we trudged around York in silence. Outwardly the perfect family, with quiet obedient kids and wonderful parents treating them to a day out. I felt like a guilty little monster - I was the problem and the scapegoat if you will. If my brother and mum could manage not to complain then why couldn't I, what was wrong with me?

But I look back and wonder, where the hell was my 'peace' in all of this?

I am to this day afraid that anyone reading this will think I am whiny and ungrateful.

That's because I was born with that message following me around like a giant red, flashing arrow. The wretchedness I felt was amplified massively when there was no escape and we were all together. That feeling of being trapped with big feelings I am desperately trying to control is repeated to this day in my panic attacks.

At least in the home in the holiday period, I could get away for a bit to my own room and play Dizzy on the C64, or Tomb Raider on the PC a few years later - dissociating in pixels.

When we were out together it was absolutely oppressive, and there was no where safe to go.

We never really stopped or relaxed for a moment, never had conversations or enjoyed where we were. All that mattered was my dad's mood - and he would spoil the day by acting like a toddler - every time. Even when I withdrew to protect myself, it wouldn't change anything. He was determined that we would suffer in some way to show us how disappointed he was in us all. We weren't good enough for him and he would rather be anywhere else - But what a great dad he was for doing his duty!

During the holiday season I have to fight the guilt I feel when I am not busy or being productive. I went for a bike ride today as it was sunny and I wanted to, but I also felt that I had to do something today - Or I would be wasting the nice (but freezing) weather.

I also decided to write this blog as I felt as though I needed to do something. I could call it a 'creative drive', but a part of me still feels like I have to earn my existence in some way. As a teenager my dad had pushed and pushed me until I burnt out, then called me lazy when I would sleep until late in the morning. By then I was on medication for anxiety which made me sleep more, I was at college, then university, working part time - but I was still characterised by him as being slovenly.

Now between Christmas and New Years I can feel the urge and hear the criticism. Am I still trying to 'Please Others'? Or be his idea of 'Perfect'? Perhaps I am still trying to do as my father said: and 'not waste the day'. I am always running from being the 'bad person' in my father's story.

Years of therapy and I am still not able to fully deprogram the bullying and brainwashing.

Which actually when I think about it, is quite a freeing thought.

Complex PTSD sufferers, including myself, have often undergone treatment and therapy for years, without being able to shift enough past baggage. I can gain insight, but my nervous system and brain function on a level, which refuses to update. There is no version of myself that I am trying to get back to, as I had no before.

I need to accept that I am the product of an abusive upbringing - that is something from the past that I can not change.

I validate myself, and that I can easily can slip into behaviours that are involve shutting down my needs and ignoring my feelings.

I stayed in today, it looked shit outside. I pottered around and I decided to finish writing this before I make the tea.

My resolution at the Winter Solstice was to travel more and get out into nature, caring less about what others may think of me. If other people don't get me, or disagree, that doesn't mean that I am odd, or bad. I wasn't allowed to take up any space as a child, but that doesn't mean that it is wrong or dangerous for me to do so. Not knowing exactly what to do after Christmas in the black hole before New Years feels scary for me, full of ambiguous choices and inner conflict.

However, I have to remind myself that I'm not the character my parent's projected onto me. The guilt and shame is not mine to carry. I deserve peace. I am a real, complex person and I exist and deserve to be here.