For Relational Trauma Survivors Talk Therapy is Not Enough by Kizzie
/(Note: Post authors granted permission to use their posts in this blog article.)
Recently in a post about one of the six major symptoms of Complex PTSD/Relational Trauma Response (CPTSD/RTR), Disturbed Relationships, a member asked the question “What to do when you do better alone?” It resonated deeply with members because many of us have asked ourselves similar questions. The original post and 3 responses have been included below to highlight how difficult forming and sustaining relationships is for many of us.
It’s simple to suggest that survivors need to reach out and connect with others, to learn to trust and how to build and maintain relationships, but this begs the question of how do we do so when everything in us, our emotional, cognitive and physical selves, fights against this? Even in therapists’ offices many of us do not reveal ourselves and connect in only a limited fashion. If/when we do begin to trust, open up and form a therapeutic bond it often takes an inordinate amount of time and a highly skilled and relatable professional. Unfortunately even some professionals do not seem to truly understand just how difficult relationships are as Jazzy’s post touches on.
Jazzy
I'm not really sure how to express this, but there seems to be a real disconnect when it comes to relationships with others. Anyone and everyone will tell you that humans are social creatures, its important to have friends, to feel like a valued member of the community etc.
The thing is that social interactions (especially in person) are so overwhelmingly difficult, that they always seem to be negative. They take so much out of me, leave me feeling guilty and like a failure etc. There is clear evidence that I do much better when I am disconnected from others. Trying to force friendships, or getting lost in a romantic relationship has markedly negative effects on me. Sometimes I do feel lonely though, and this seems to go against the overwhelmingly held belief that social interaction is an important positive part of life.
My psychiatrist personifies this disconnect to me perfectly. He has diagnosed me with agoraphobia and social phobia, among other things, and then every time I see him, he asks if I have been going out with my friends, or if I have any new romantic interests. No, of course I haven't, that kind of thing makes me feel horrible. Why would you even ask?!
My psychiatrist personifies this disconnect to me perfectly. He has diagnosed me with agoraphobia and social phobia, among other things, and then every time I see him, he asks if I have been going out with my friends, or if I have any new romantic interests. No, of course I haven't, that kind of thing makes me feel horrible. Why would you even ask?!
I imagine this in physical terms as a person who is allergic to water. Obviously, they need that water, and they feel effects of dehydration from not having it, but at the same time, drinking the water will cause physical symptoms as well. This person goes to a checkup with their doctor, and their doctor asks if they've been drinking plenty of fluids... well no, they're allergic.
So, first off... can anyone else relate to this? Just feeling so bad by trying to participate in this "positive, necessary part of life?" Beyond that, what do you do? It seems like a lose-lose situation. How do you turn this around?
Kizzie
I can totally relate Jazzy. I stopped looking for relationships about three years ago because I felt so much better not having anything but acquaintances I liked and could chat a bit with then go home and not have them over for coffee. I'm not sure whether or how or when this might change but for right now I am content.
Part of the reason we're moving is that we ended up buying a house in a small new neighbourhood 6 years ago we thought would be where we stayed after retiring. Turns out to be all retired people who want to chat when they see you outside doing anything, have coffee, like block parties and house parties - for someone like me this is really difficult. We are moving to a more age diverse town where it is not all seniors so there won't be as much focus on us.
Part of the reason we're moving is that we ended up buying a house in a small new neighbourhood 6 years ago we thought would be where we stayed after retiring. Turns out to be all retired people who want to chat when they see you outside doing anything, have coffee, like block parties and house parties - for someone like me this is really difficult.
I'm not antisocial so much as I need/want guilt free me time. I spent most of my life focused outwardly on others - either to placate them, avoid threat, whatever. Alone I can finally relax and slip back into my own skin. It's my choice now to be self referenced versus other referenced (there's been some discussion about this here if you want to search). I am embracing it because I need/want it and it feels so much better than the constant anxiety of living outside my self & having my energy drained.
One thing I have learned with having Complex PTSD is that not everything that is "true" for those who don't have our history is true for us
Woodsgnome
I've been on both ends of the social/alone spectrum. While I had some pretty socially involved employment situations, I never could fully adjust to the pressures I felt around people. I know I let many down because of my awkward social skills, but also due to my inability to feel comfortable explaining from where my reticence grew (the cptsd saga).
It probably seemed weird in a way, because I could perform as an outgoing actor, but as soon as performances were over I retreated back to my private self. It did -- and still does -- help that I'm a voracious reader and music lover, I suppose.
It was the old 'caught between a rock and a hard place' routine, and I stayed frozen in it. Even in social situations; even where I could have thrived there, I was always -- consciously and subconsciously -- looking for safety. Mind you, the hardest was that at some level I desperately wanted a friend or 2 who could fully understand, but I also learned how to set boundaries (although I'm sure they looked like thick walls to many others).
…. the hardest was that at some level I desperately wanted a friend or 2 who could fully understand, but I also learned how to set boundaries (although I'm sure they looked like thick walls to many others).
I'm still torn -- there are ways I could lessen the lonely side, but on the other escape is what I built my life towards. I did find understanding friends for a while, but it didn't last. I guess I've mostly accepted that I still have self-imposed limits that might handicap potential relationships, but I also see it as a sign that perhaps my needs have never veered to favouring the social over the private life, loneliness included. Most important, I feel less apologetic about my choice, knowing how it came about.
That said, everyone's comfort level with this varies. I hope you can find some way to live at peace with yourself, Jazzy. "Lose-lose" doesn't fully apply here ... it's more "I have to live with myself and how can I make this my optimum and self-loving choice?"
Blue Palm
I'm a little late to this conversation jazzy, but, shortly before opening OOTS today, I was sitting in my garden with my dogs thinking that my life is safer and calmer when I am essentially alone in their company, with no humans nearby, and then, now and again, I can have pleasant and fairly short interactions with dog walkers, strangers or acquaintances.
I'm confident and outgoing with people and can strike up a conversation easily if I wish to do so but I'm always conscious that there's a time when it should end and I wave a friendly goodbye before they start to 'zero in' on me and work out how they can use me for their own needs.
It sounds paranoid doesn't it, but I have no-one to protect me (I have never had anyone to protect me) and, like Kizzie, I've found that 'trying to force friendships, or getting lost in a romantic relationship has markedly negative effects on me'. In my experience, leaving things on a polite and friendly level with acquaintances is my best protection against introducing more trauma into my life.
I think I have, and will always have, 'prey' written fairly clearly on my chest when it comes to predators. Certainly, my attempts at romantic relationships in life, none of which was initiated by me and each of which started out of a sense of duty and politeness to someone who approached me, have been with predators. I refuse to do that again.
I think I have, and will always have, 'prey' written fairly clearly on my chest when it comes to predators. Certainly, my attempts at romantic relationships in life, none of which was initiated by me and each of which started out of a sense of duty and politeness to someone who approached me, have been with predators. I refuse to do that again.
My psychoanalyst many years ago said I was the most 'hermit-like' person he knew. And I understood him to be criticising my tendency to keep away from people. However, I'm now convinced that having a few long-standing but somewhat distant friends, no close family relationships and a number of pleasant acquaintances (and my lovely dogs to care for) is best for me as a survival strategy and I no longer feel I'm doing something 'wrong'.
I'm comfortable with my own company and feel that the companionship of reading writings by like minded people essentially keeps the pain of loneliness at bay most of the time. I know it represents, in theory, a great loss for me in all I could experience with companionable people but it's an accommodation I've reached with the reality of my traumatic history, the seemingly high numbers of dysfunctional people around me and my isolated position as an independent, highly educated, professionally successful and intellectually inclined woman living on her own in a markedly patriarchal country.
Sadly, I'm confident that if I were a man with my personality, and even if with my traumatic history, I would not need to be so vigilant at staying away from people to avoid being harmed. But that is reality and we need to function in reality and bear the costs as best we can.
Most of us have been to therapy and it is simply not enough. Isolating becomes a last resort strategy for avoiding the chaotic rollercoaster of feelings that relationships induce. This begs the question then of what to do?
The main take away from this article for those developing or providing treatment, service and support is that trauma affects us cognitively, affectively and somatically. Not only must we think we’re safe, we must feel safe and this requires experiencing healthy relationships in a variety of environments not only within but outside therapy. Relationships take place within and affects the contexts of our lives (i.e., as partners, parents, family members, employees, students, members of the community, etc), and thus treatment, service and support must necessarily reflect and attend to this. Helping us with relationships then means creative, compassionate whole person focused treatment, services and support beyond talk therapy.
One organization that understands this is the award winning UK not-for-profit organization Body and Soul (http://www.bodyandsoulcharity.org/). As the name implies their focus is on the “whole person” and offer a variety of research based programs (e.g., lectures, workshops, discussion groups) and services (e.g., psychotherapy, complimentary therapy such as massage and yoga, and casework and advocacy for legal, housing, financial, family issues). At the heart of this organization is heart, connection and the core belief of “the transformational power of love to heal the trauma of childhood adversity”. Body and Soul is an exemplar for what “care” needs to be for relational trauma survivors. It’s where treatment, services and support need to go if survivors are to come out of isolation and connect with the world.
