autotelic, autistic, assonance-hole©.

cPTSD and me

Most people jump to the conclusion I had/have PTSD. In fact, I have cPTSD.

For reference, all but seven years of my life are trauma, and I’m pretty sure the professionals would say I’m wrong about those seven years, too.

This is what ‘toxic stress’ and ‘chronic pain’ and ‘persistent anxiety’ and ‘severe depression’ means… that’s what it IS.

That’s also before you add on the every day medical care/needs, the isolation, the inability to get around or take care of myself, my home, my cats, my husband… anything.

I know I sound like I’m exaggerating. I know this is because our culture devalues you if you’re not able to hand over life energy for pennies on the literal cost of living and being a healthy human, forfend you should look to those who decree how you shall be for a minimum quality of life that is comparable along a reliable continuum amongst those who sacrifice their life in service/work to others on behalf of still others rather than only themselves.

My personal pride in actually surviving is high, but I often find myself wondering if this is just another series of transient possibility ruined by my unrepentant neurodivergence. Note that it’s always my fault, especially when it is not.

You see, that has always been the cause of the trauma. No matter when or where or with whom, the single, unifying thread is that utter derision, discrediting, and dismissal that comes consistently to those who either cannot or will not ‘kiss the ring’ of cultural etiquette and implicit social contracting (i.e., plausible deniability).

Eh. Ok. Concept delivered at fidelity.