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LETTERS TO LOVEFRAUD: Hyper vigilance and PTSD

Editor’s Note: Lovefraud received this story from the member who writes as “Duped.”

In hindsight, I remember questioning the little green things on the dinosaur nuggets he prepared for dinner. I was surprised he’d made the effort, in response to much nagging about not pitching in. It was late and I’d just returned from teaching an evening class. An overload to pay the bills since he quit his job. We had been arguing a lot, or rather me complaining; him not working, cleaning, taking care of the kids or pets and not making so much of an effort as to prepare a meal or help me. I had been working my full-time job teaching, overloaded for extra pay, consulting work for a publisher to generate more income, plus trying to finish my graduate degree in time to make tenure. All this and two children, one his and only a year old. And he never lifted a finger.

Until those dinosaur nuggets with the odd parsley flakes”¦.

Less than two weeks later, he filed a false Protection From Abuse (PFA) order and attempted to have me and my eldest son thrown out of our house (the one I had built from the ground up before I met him) take me for full custody of our one year old son who’d never spent a night without me, and soak me for child support, alimony and half the marital assets (we had been married 11 months) to which he had contributed nothing!

Fortunately, he was unsuccessful. Mostly because of who I am and the life I’ve created for me and my children. In part due to some due diligence. In part, despite my hyper vigilance.

It is hyper vigilance I’d like to address. It’s a nasty side effect of PTSD. I was able to get his PFA turned around and file one against him. I was believable, he was not. I was credible, he was not. I HAD cared for my children, he HAD not. I had NOT been abusive, he HAD. This was relatively easy to demonstrate, although it didn’t feel so at the time. So, while I had him right where I needed him, I still felt panic and fear. I still believed he would be believed. Why not? I had believed him and I’m no sucker!

So, I made an urgent appointment with my doctor to have a drug test. He WAS using drugs. I was NOT. He had accused me of being a drug dealer, when in fact it was his mother who was his supplier, and I felt this burning NEED to prove myself. I got that drug test and believe it or not, they lost the sample. Right then I should have taken a breath and allowed the Universe to work its divine intervention. But NO, I couldn’t do that. I was in the throes of battle. I NEEDED every little piece that would set things right. I HAD to have that drug result to PROVE HIM WRONG. I was DRIVEN and consumed.

I had a second test run right before court and asked the doctor to fax the results to the attorney. I didn’t need to hear the results first. I knew what I had and had not done. It would be negative. And my attorney believed that too, which is why she handed over the results to his attorney without reading them herself. And that’s how I lost the battle.

The results were positive for THC, the intoxicating chemical found in Marijuana. Not possible, until I remembered those parsley flakes in the damn dinosaur chicken nuggets he had served up with a pleased little grin.

And that was when I had to face being my own worst enemy. Hyper vigilance, while once my comrade in a childhood filled with craziness, had become the enemy. No one asked for the drug test and it certainly wasn’t court ordered. I had gone full blown into trying to work every little piece and angle to save me and my children, that I’d opened a cans of worms HE HAD ANTICIPATED! He played my vigilance to his advantage and had won”¦the battle.

I won the war. Because I am who I am and he is who he is and I didn’t have to make that case. He made it himself, once I tuned down from hyper vigilance to due diligence. I shifted from histrionic to matriarch. My change in posture elicited a change in his. He wasn’t pulling my strings any more. He wasn’t in control any more. I was in control of myself, which gave me far more of a positive influence over the situation. And his facade was shaken, revealing his true colors.

My point is, if you have been the victim of a sociopath, it is most likely you will be and maybe still are suffering from PTSD. With that comes the nasty black cloud of hyper vigilance. It’s exhausting, unproductive and ultimately leaves one angry and disappointed with themselves and actions. If you’re in the throws of situating your life in the wake of a sick or evil person, stop and take a deep breath. Ask yourself if what you’re doing is for the right reasons, makes sense and will take you in a direction that will raise you up, not bring you down.

Are you reacting because the situation REQUIRES it? Or are you reacting because you’re DRIVEN to? I ask myself these questions with regularity and find I’m a happier, more relaxed and better focused person, mother and professional.

Namaste

Duped


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209 Comments on "LETTERS TO LOVEFRAUD: Hyper vigilance and PTSD"

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ok I got yer back – I just refuse to let them abuse me from the grave – my granny told me onetime that both of my parents should die in prison – who knows maybe they did/will..death is so final and who knows for sure why they did what they did…my mom stole more than money from me, and all I wanted from my dad was love and some approval..what your dad did is wrong – i am so sorry

Dear Hens, you said “I think I have had PTSD most of my life, is that possible?” Maybe it is. My mother is a narc, my father was at the least a self obsessed perv, there were like the fire and gasoline that Ox talks about:( They should have both been steralised at puberty, they are/were totally incapable of nurturing their scattered off-spring… but I digress. I feel like I’d been coping (and quite well all considered) with a life time of continued cycles of attack/ abuse – neglect/ discard – manipulation – attack/ abuse ect , the spath was the straw that broke the camels back.
Dad is dead, and I dont feel anger towards him any more, I dont feel much for him, and Mum I have been NC with for just over a year. It’s not them that I long for at night when I am up in a state of anxiety about money or son, but the comfort of ‘roots.’ when things get tough feeling the void is terrible. Even when they were in my life they werent parents. so the void has always been there…

One step – The inheritance carrot is something that has been used in my mothers family to keep people ‘on side’ a lot. There is a culture in my Mother’s family that towing the abuse line is worth it because at least there will be something ‘at the end of it’. How royally F***ked up. Narc mother is also ‘the gate keeper’ to our disjointed rellies…. I am glad to be out of it. It’s not how I want to live my life. dancing for other peoples scraps. When the time comes narc mum will no doubt leave all her pennies to whoever danced for her the most OR her final swan song will be to hit whoever wasted their life on her in this ‘holding pattern’ with a total whammy and leave it to the cats home. But your sitch is not my sitch lovely, and I commend you for being in a strong enough place to battle for what you feel is right on that front. I wish you lots of luck.x

Hi Blue!!! 🙂
I thought of you the other night….I made a porkroast….with CRACKLING!!!!
YUM!
Totally off topic……

Hi Erin!!! 🙂 xxxx Mmmmm! Sounds Good! I havent made a roast in a looooong time now.x
I hope you and your family are well Ms. Erin ‘Warrrior’ Brock (native american name: ‘Walks with Bouncy Hair’ ;), I havent really been able to catch up with everything on here as much as I should, but I hear you did some tax slaying recently!:)xxx I have to get off to work now, but thanks for saying Hi:) lovely start to my day.xxx Have a good one.x

Stealing someones inheritance is straight off evil. No one should get away with it. It’s disgusting that children are still singled out for abuse sometimes by the whole family when it comes to inheritance…I dole out the money I have to my son AS we live…there will be no inheritance…he will be heir to 3 inheritances anyway…one of them significant and bring it on…he deserves it

just money to cover this old womans funeral..and I always remember Sylvia Brown talking about this…how ridiculous it is to have these mausoleums, these massive coffins made of wood to just put under the ground to rot…she wants her sons to throw her corpse over the wall and leave it there until it starts to smell…because she hates her neighbours…and they will ssay what is that smell…aand her boys will tell them it’s Sylvia she died….ha ha

I always think the family money is the family energy…~I try not to see it as just money. It’s also a symbol of life, love and generativity….and everyone wants it….. It gets so held by the fear and greed of people… the bitterness….what they couldnt’ give becomes laced with friction and conflict when it comes to handing out the wealth on D-Day…who deserves what…who was loved the most…who was the favourite on and on…

I have always removed myself from rows about money until I understood it’s energy and we have to sort it out…it’s important because it dictates the divine balance at the end of the day..which is everyone deserves to be catered for within the family..even if it is using the money to keep someone in jail…or put someone through Re hab or whatever it is…

One step..this is another important step in setting the record straight so that you have done your bit to reclaim what was rightfully yours in the first place….it’s so ironic that your own father would keep from you financial help and support for your life…he must be a very unhappy man…but that family energy was yours and you are entitled to it….I think we carry unresolved thefts, debts into our next life…if there is such a thing.

Blueskies = Your post to me pretty much echo’s what I am saying about having a life time of PTSD…but I get so tired of feeling like a victim even tho I was, but not so now cause I row my own boat, sometimes in circles but at least I am the captain….

hens if you want to make some extra money with your natural talent and 55 years you should publish a book of one sentence poems

“I row my own boat, sometimes in circles but at least I am the captain”

“like a possum eating peanut butter”

“Mel-o-drama”

And I do not how many wonderful ways you write words…but you are a wordsmith. A unique hens wordsmith…

Bullet ~! you made my day ~! I am off to work….

Wow, lots going on when I went to bed early—actually not even “bed” feel asleep on the couch and never woke up enough to go to the bedroom…or even turn off the TV—and that makes for creepy dreams where you intergrate the TV show with your dreams, and boy could I write a book and use the dreams as the plot! LOL

Henry, darling, of course you have had PTSD for most of your life, so have I…funny thing about it, you sort of start to get your chit together and the NEXT EPISODE of trauma comes along and the PTSD is reactivated and you go back to square one, plus two, and start over, and it keeps on in one cycle after another…

When we had the LAST most recent episode in our lives, THIS TIME we actually started the healing path, not just “surviving” until the next episode., This time we start peeling back the stinking layers of the onion, and as we get one layer done, the next one shows up and we peel that and so on, but until we get this thing peeled back to the CORE we just have to keep on peeling, but we can do it.

When the “onion” of our traumas is BIG and many-layered it takes time and we get TIRED and FRUSTRATED and think we will never get it done, but I think we are doing well, Henry, my twister brother! We are seeing FINALLY that we can do it, and that no one can stop us.

All lthe other times we didn’t how how to peel it back, to take care of the layers of slime underneath the current carp!

But personally, I am PROUD OF YOU BROTHER!!!

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