Thread: Grieving
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Old Oct 31, 2019, 10:43 AM
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Wild Coyote Wild Coyote is offline
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Quote:
Originally Posted by fern46 View Post
This is so very kind of you and true in many ways. Thank you!

The frequency at which the memories come up for all of them has lessened. My 4 year old who was only 3 at the time brings it up the most. The memoroes mostly surface at night and he begins with 'Mommy, do you remember when you did the naughtiness when your brain and your heart were broken and you did xyz?'. We always talk it though and then he's ok. He in general seems less afraid and more matter of fact about it.

My oldest won't talk about it. He leaves the room if we bring it up. There have been times when I feel like he starts a question about it, but then he stops himself.

Last week my husband was watching a movie in bed. There was shooting and buildings were smashed. All of a sudden I saw my son's head pop around the corner. He then ran back to his bed. He was under his covers. He told me the glass breaking scared him. I asked him why and he wouldn't say. He said he sleeps under his covers all the time because he is scared. He woke up the night of my episode to me smashing an entire wall of picture frames in the hallway outside his room. I feel like he's still working through some PTSD like symptoms when he's triggered. We all are really.

My husband watches over me, but thankfully it isn't overbearing and it doesn't seem to be too draining. He trusts in those lifestyle changes you mentioned. My being proactive about controlling as much of this on my own as I can has really helped I think. I was so incredibly awful to him when I was sick. He became the target of my rage and I still have no clue why other than he was 'there'.

I didn't know if he could accept me again after everything that happened. He never faltered for a second though. He accepted me back into our home and loved and supported me the same. I feel incredibly fortunate.

I do blame myself for my part in creating a set of circumstances that allowed this to happen to us. I don't beat myself up over it anymore. Thanks for reminding me that serves no purpose. It is helpful to hear that from others from time to time. I agree that an episode that traumatic is unlikely now. I have learned a ton and I plan to use that knowledge as soon as possible should I ever need to in the future.

Thanks again. You've always supported me and it is deeply appreciated. I can connect with your grief as well. I think it is very wise of you to share it and kind of you to create a safe speace for others to do the same.
Yes, that happens a lot. There often is no ryhme, nor reason. I think many know my H has a dx of BP2 and it was a "toss" as to whether or not his dx was/is BP1, as he did experience some psychosis. During the psychosis, I was his target. The things he was accusing me of ... just held no truth. Due to my background, I was able to see it for what it was. thankfully.

I think spouses/others become "targets" just because they are there.

In short, my father was ill and was chronically a terror.
I do experience "night terrors" and have extreme "sleep anxiety," PTSD.
I tend to think your children will be okay.

First of all, my dad was a "chronic" terror.

Secondly, children suffer when there is no adult/nobody available to comfort them. (I had nobody to help me with that. I might not have been so traumatized if an adult was available to me emotionally. I could never process any of it with any adult. The only adult around was too traumatized.)

It is not necessarily the "traumatic event(s)" which create PTSD. It is critically important someone is available to "comfort" the child at the time and thereafter, allowing the child to proces thier experience(s).

You deeply love your children and are doing everything right and everything possible to help them to process their experiences. You are Present for them and helping them to heal, on every level. (This is relatively rare.) This is cause for celebration!

You are making a tremendous effort and are doing an amazing job!

WIth Much Love and Admiration, my friend
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