Complex PTSD? Not me!

A lot of people I know are anxious people. They spend their time crafting solutions to every possible scenario that could arise.

I am not this way.

I have never spent much time thinking about the future, really, at all. It isn’t good or bad, per se, for me. It is undefined. I prefer, or maybe I’m just wired in such a way that I cross bridges when I arrive at them.
I understand now, in my oldest and wisest form to date, that for The Anxious, having a plan in place for anything problematic makes them feel at ease. At least, that’s what they tell me though truthfully they never seem to be at ease.
For me, running through imaginary catastrophes is far more stressful and can very easily lead me to paralysation. Why would I try anything when so much could always go wrong?

This may sound like I’m bragging about my wild and carefree mindset, but worry not. First of all, this is just my own way of coping with existing in a constant state of survival mode. Secondly, I pour all of my unused anxiety from life directly into my intrapersonal relationships. Yay insurmountable insecurity!

As it turns out, when you start to seriously examine yourself with a clarity of mind and ruthless willingness, you start to see some pretty crazy, icky and sometimes surprising patterns at work.
For me, abandonment is the gift that keeps on giving.
And, as with many aspects of my walk through life, I can understand the issue intellectually but that doesn’t necessarily mean I can curb the behaviours that arise when I am flooded with emotions and terrified I’m not lovable.

I have spent many years of my adult life flip flopping between attempting to untangle my psychological issues and trying very hard to numb them completely. In true human fashion, the majority of the time the only thing standing in my way is myself.

I am approaching two years free from the bondage of cocaine addiction on November 23, and much of that time has been spent having to untangle the mess I made when I was trying to opt out of my mess.

I spend a lot of time today shaking my head at the things I tolerated when I didn’t have the strength or knowledge I have come to know. So much of my growth really centres around having out-of-body experiences, watching myself give away my power or put my own needs on the back burner, screaming internally that I won’t do this again. I didn’t realize that doing the work successfully was actually going to mean I was LESS satisfied with where I am in life and who I have become.

Sometimes I’m not certain if I wish I had been smarter sooner, or if I was dumber still.
One thing is sure though, and it is that knowing you should be doing better, demanding more, setting and crushing goals… it is wholly unhelpful when you are stuck in the mess you made when you were sick mentally.

All of this to say that I thought I had it all figured out because I knew I was fucked from being walked away from. I studied the symptoms and, while I couldn’t really control any of it, at least I knew what was up.

I am here today acknowledging that I have figured out exactly nothing.

1. Today is the nine year anniversary of my father’s death and while it does not do to me what it once did, it can still wash over me without warning like the day he left his physical body behind.
2. I only recently discovered there are massive psychological impacts on a person from long-term estrangement. That is an entire layer of my experience I never once thought about.

And while it is nine years since the day he died, this day signifies more than that for me.

I would be lying if I said I wasn’t already dabbling in cocaine when it happened. She and I have a long and rocky history that dates back to no later than 2001. I can tell you, though, that after many years away from that substance I was frustrated with my life in general and on New Years Eve 2015 I opened the door back up. That’s why, when IT happened in November, it was just so easy to fall into addiction and out of myself. Today was the day, nine years ago, that I lost my father, but it is also the day I lost myself.

That’s a lot to come to terms with.

For seven years afterwards I was a daily cocaine user. A large chunk of time in my life is tainted by the things I did when I was stuck there. I remember everything from those years through a lens of guilt and shame, employing tactics daily to talk myself down… to find self-forgiveness… and I can’t.

I don’t know if I will ever be able to truly give myself grace in this way. I understand it, again, but struggle to apply it.

Internally though, it feels like a duality of self. Ultimately this is what gets me through. I know that the person I am today is better equipped to handle the ups and downs of life, and I wouldn’t sacrifice or compromise the morals and values I did when I was using.

What this means though, is that this is only my second time experiencing this loss- processing it- without being distracted by active addiction.

Today was the day it all came crashing to the ground around me. When I look back on it now, I can see the foundation was faulty to begin with.

I suppose, in a way, it is in being dismantled completely that I have found a way to come back together in the spirit of who I want to be. I have not yet managed to start leading the life I so desperately desire, but I am reminded that what is meant for me will be on God’s time and not on mine.

There is no grave site. My siblings had the ashes the last time I checked, but we don’t speak anymore.

That’s okay though, there is nowhere on earth I can go to make up for the connection I didn’t get to have.
I think it’s inside me or something, but I probably shoved it into a closet I forgot we even have.

Here’s to you, dad.

I hope you’ve found the peace in being stardust you never seemed to grasp on earth.