Today, in a complex PTSD support group, a member shared her story of hope and healing to lift other members up. I was inspired to share mine. Not that I’m as successful as she is, but I’ve come a long way on my healing journey especially given how deeply troubled I was several years ago. Regular readers will know most of this already, but I’m still going to share where I’ve come from and how far I’ve come so far.
In 2007, I started university in Nijmegen. I didn’t really want to go to university, but I felt I had to because my parents expected me to. I felt I had to live up to their expectations or I wouldn’t be worth much and would not have anyone to support me. My parents had instilled in me that I wasn’t wired for relationships, so if they decided to abandon me, I’d have no-one left.
Two months in and I crashed. I was so dysregulated and suicidal that I had to be admitted to a mental hospital. The psychiatrist who admitted me felt I needed supported housing. We searched for this for many years, but no place wanted me.
Meanwhile, the other half and I started dating. This could’ve given me some hope that I may in fact be able to develop social and even romantic relationships and wouldn’t be dependent on my parents for the rest of my life. You see, despite the fact that my parents only ever visited the hospital to argue with my treatment team, I was still heavily emotionally dependent on them. I still felt I needed their approval to be able to have any sort of meaningful life.
That changed around late 2010 to early 2011. The other half had proposed to me in June of 2010. I was diagnosed with dissociative identity disorder and PTSD in late 2010. Finally finding a treatment provider who believed me and realizing the other half was here to stick by me, gave me the strength to stick up for myself.
I still had many setbacks in the years that followed. I changed hospitals and my new psychologist didn’t believe I had DID/PTSD. The next psychologist even removed my autism diagnosis that I’d had for many years. She diagnosed me with dependent personality disorder, not because I was passive and compliant, but because I was too assertive, claiming care she felt I didn’t need.
In early 2017, I finally found the determination and courage to fight like a lioness for what I need. I sought an independent second opinion on my diagnosis. I started the process of finding suitable support, eventually enlisting the Center for Consultation and Expertise. I started to realize that I’m not just the crazy one in my family. In fact, even though no-one has a diagnosis other than me, I’m pretty sure my entire family has fallen a bit off their rocker. I finally realized (though I still don’t fully feel it) that the trauma I endured wasn’t my fault.
These strong parts of me are still a bit split off from the core of me, but that’s okay. Ultimately, I will hopefully learn to synthesize their qualities with the ones of the weaker or smaller ones. I don’t need to become “one”, but I hope I can someday live as the whole person, made up of all these parts, that I am.