Well! I bet you are as surprised as I am to be seeing another post on this account after I assured everyone I would no longer be writing here. But the thing about concrete is, sometimes it has to be demolished when you need to lay a stronger foundation for better things. And that’s what we’re looking at here, in many ways. I should have–I needed to–make this post literally months ago, but PTSD doesn’t just “play nice” because you suddenly need to make something happen!
Because of the difficult things I wrote about in my last post, I had a huge mental block telling me I didn’t deserve to ask for anyone’s help. This block was further cemented by the unfounded belief that, well, there are perhaps millions of people in my situation, so what makes me think I’m deserving of help at all, much less while they continue to suffer?
But not only is that another manifestation of survivor’s guilt, it’s another version of something else I was always told, which was, “There are people being abused so much worse than you, you think what you went through was bad?” Only now, I can argue back against those gaslighting tactics. Now, I know that I was only told it “wasn’t that bad” because
that’s what all abusers tell their victims, no matter what, and
it’s a control tactic used to prevent you from leaving, to prevent you from seeking help, and to prevent you from drawing negative attention to the person who actually deserves it: the abuser.
Most significantly, I can finally stand in my truth and state in my own defense:
If you’re being abused so horrendously, for so many years, that your own psyche starts to split into different parts and versions against your will just to survive your situation, then yes, yes it really was “that bad.”
What I need help with is paying for the costs of having to immediately pack up and move to an undisclosed location for my safety, completely on my own, without any help from anyone, after being isolated and controlled and abused for years by the very people who made me believe they were helping me.
It had to be done, but due to multi-faceted financial abuse on top of everything else (the number one reason victims can’t escape), I am currently in a financial hole I simply CANNOT dig myself out of without help. The crux of the matter is, I really don’t need much, but without this little bit of help, I will be barely surviving for the next 5-6 YEARS at the bare minimum, even if nothing else were to go wrong within that entire time frame… And we all know things don’t work that way!
Literally throughout my entire life, I’ve been outright harmed or threatened with harm for even acknowledging non-verbally that abuse was occurring. To do what I’ve been doing lately, actually speaking out loud? I’m undoing decades of brainwashing to make these statements, and even though I wish I could’ve completed this sooner, thereby getting assistance sooner, I have nothing but compassion for my brain’s dilemma in trying to overcome this. The Universe has helped me realize that asking for help actually doesn’t take away from others getting the help they deserve. God and His angels have helped me see that it’s okay to tell the truth about what I’ve been through, because not only will it help me heal, but it will help validate the struggles of other survivors and remind them that they, too, are allowed to speak. We’ve spent too long waiting for permission.
I understand that not everyone is going to be able to contribute, but when I did the math, I found that if everyone who follows my accounts donated even $3, I could meet my goal. Yes, seriously. That is IT. So before you decide that what you have left to donate isn’t enough to make a difference to me, please consider that. You just have to believe that what you have to offer, actually matters. Because it does.
And no matter what, please share the fundraiser link above, for two reasons:
(1) I don’t use a personal Facebook, because my abusers and their disgusting web of lies is all on show there. To see the same people who have tortured me and others, going online pretending to be kind and typing things like “hugs” and “smiles” to poor unsuspecting good people, just makes my skin crawl like nothing else. But GoFundMe says “Sharing your GoFundMe on Facebook can increase donations by 350%” so if you could please share it to yours on my behalf, that’d be wonderful. It’ll especially help me reach those who want to help support someone like me today, on May 12th, International Awareness Day for Chronic Immunological and Neurological Diseases. I know I’m not some organization, but I’m a real person with a real problem who also happens to have a very real solution. I will be directly benefiting from any donation!
Just by itself, even if you excluded all my other conditions, M.E. is an extremely disabling disease that has been proven time and time again to have the lowest quality of life of almost any chronic illness: “…[A]pproximately 15 times worse than cancer and two times worse than having a stroke,” a fact that I would never have believed possible if I hadn’t been struck with it myself. Frankly, that I got out at all is already its own miracle. But additionally,
(2) Your sharing this might put it across the path of someone else struggling silently in an abusive situation, inspiring them to keep fighting for their own freedom, or even just to put a name to what they’ve experienced.
There’s much more detail at the official fundraiser link if you want it, where I tried to explain things to all the people who haven’t been following my accounts for almost a decade.
If you’ve ever said to me, “I wish there was something I could do to help you,” this is your chance. Thank you if all you can do for now is read this, thank you endlessly if you donated any amount at all to help me restore my life, and no matter what, please, please, please share the fundraiser link: gofundme.com/kitwillthrive
This will not be a lighthearted post, but it has been a long time coming, as many of you have probably already suspected. The ole “I’m leaving this blog behind” announcement that’s been a couple years in the making, but of which I’ve only been certain I needed to make within the past six months or so.
For years, everyone has watched me say things like, I’ll post in this way, or that new way, or I’ll try this… But even though I have dozens of half-finished blurbs in my personal writing app (31 to be exact), most of what I’ve scribbled will never make it to the public eye. And I’m okay with that.
I imagined when I got back to a place where I wasn’t trapped in an isolated hell of cognitive confusion and anxiety, I would naturally gravitate back here, to the writing outlet and the people and the support groups that used to keep me going. Then I thought, maybe if I just quelled the desire to explain so much of my thought process, things might flow more easily to the page, while also being more digestible for my readers. Turns out, no, and furthermore, I love explaining my thought processes, and trying to make the breadth of my worldview smaller for some perceived idea of what my “audience” might be able to tolerate, is just another example of how I chronically shrink all that I am and all that I feel so as not to disturb the state of others.
When it comes down to it, as far as I can tell, I really have said everything I needed to say here. It is simply time to close this chapter.
Besides, the ultimate goal of any supportive community is that the members are supported so earnestly and wholly that they cease to require that facet of the community at all. It leaves room for those who still do, and makes room for those who will soon join.
Surely my own aging has a lot to do with things, too. The generation of people with myalgic encephalomyelitis who came before me are now slowly dying out, if not mostly already gone. And my own generation of people with M.E. are becoming less and less well-known; soon we’ll be entering into the years of early deaths, ourselves. Maybe no one will remember that we existed. Maybe no one will have learned from our plight or remember how hard we fought to help each other and society at large stay aware of the truth, believing wholeheartedly that to cure a disease you have to know which damned disease you’re actually studying. Maybe we will never get the help that we have always deserved from those with the most ability to give it, especially as the waters encompassing the ever-changing categorization of “chronic fatigue syndrome” become murkier year-by-year; especially as the knowledge of which disease M.E. actually is fades into history along with us. Because let’s face it:
There’s a reason people with myalgic encephalomyelitis die 25-30 years earlier than the rest of society, even if medicine doesn’t (or claims not to) understand why that is. People labeled with CFS probably do, too, because they cease to ever get diagnosed with whichever disease they actually had. And don’t even get me started on all the terminal diseases untreated Lyme bacteria will morph into! But my point is: For people like me, even if they cured this tomorrow, it would not undo decades of living with systemic disease. And a cure certainly would not save those who are already on their deathbeds.
But aging affects us all, and even as I aim to become more whole in spirit and healed in soul, it is the natural course of things for bodies to gradually lose functioning, and for bodies with diseases to lose it faster. It becomes more and more obvious each and every year that I am blessed to have, with each new diagnosis I acquire, that is not my job nor is it natural for me to keep going at the same pace I did when I first fell ill. Especially, especially at the expense of living this life that I fought like hell to still have. Most of you have no idea just how much, but read on to find out.
Combined with this realization is the trust I now have that the generations following us will make use of the information we’ve painstakingly provided for them, just as we made use of what our M.E. veterans left for us. I have more trust that the invention of social media has done something I could’ve never imagined when I first got sick, which is bring together all the people that the CDC and similar government agencies worldwide tried to silence, and give them a connected voice with which to Act Up during the years they are able. You can muddy the waters and call it whatever you want, but the fact remains that many people are going to get M.E. in the future, and many more are going to be put in the category of CFS or “ME/CFS.” And those people are going to talk, and demand to be studied.
To me, it’s simply a statistical improbability that the invention of the internet, the relative success of social media, and the tenacity of today’s youth should prevent the truth of things from ever becoming known, or prevent that cure. It might be too late for us but it will not be too late for those who follow, as long as those who are called to fight, answer that call. I answered that call when it was my time, and I need to look back at that and feel proud of what I’ve done and how much I contributed, instead of feeling I haven’t done enough.
I used to think there was something wrong with me for wanting to let this go. I used to look at those still holding on to the hopelessness and the anger and the dissatisfaction, and wonder why I wasn’t joining them, if I purported to care as much as I professed. It sounds ridiculous now, when I type it. And I used to respond to the guilt, when others claimed that because my writing was “so good” (even when it harmed me to produce it), or because I still had some cognitive ability intact (even when it wasn’t), or because my knowledge of our history was so extensive (because it was so much easier for people to expect me to do the learning and regurgitation of our info so others, usually others far more able-minded than myself, wouldn’t have to put forth the effort), that it was my main responsibility–in my own life!–to be their soldier. Of course this only refers to the extremists, which are present in all activism communities, but they were telling me and others like me, in so many words: We want what you’ve got, so do our bidding; Don’t deviate from the herd; You’re good at this, so you should be good at it for our sake; Continue on this way at any expense, because think of those who can’t continue at all; Tell our story, not yours.
Now I realize I may have gotten it backwards. They may still be caught in that place because they haven’t found a way to move forward, and I may be leaving because, I finally have.
I suppose there’s really nothing you can do or say in any situation like this, when anyone places their expectations on you to do something that isn’t actually your job, whether it’s an abusive family scapegoating you into taking responsibility for everyone’s problems so they don’t have to face their own shortcomings, or the social justice warriors bullying citizens into feeling personally responsible for the fate of millions while ignoring the larger role top-tier executives and businesses play, or the minorities of society being made to feel like their every action needs to speak for the whole, while society forgets they are just human beings like everyone else, with the same limits and the same needs.
Yes, as it happens more often than I’d wish to recall, I start out thinking I’m the oddball only to realize years later that I was actually responding in a very healthy and reasonable manner. Of course in the past, I’ve made those same mistakes from the other side of the fence, as a younger, more immature advocate. Don’t get me wrong; I’m not any better than anyone else. I just know different things now, and I have different strengths (and weaknesses), and my actual job, is to put that knowledge to use in my everyday life.
Here’s my question for you: What things are you doing, what are you still participating in that you might have actually outgrown?
Are there things you’re doing just because a lot of others in your community do them, but that don’t really resonate with you?
Are there people you tolerate because “the group” likes them, even when you see right through them AND the harm they cause?
Have you outgrown your community, but stay, remaining stifled because you don’t know what’s next for you, because at least where you are right now, you know the rules?
What are you doing in a particular way just because it’s always been done that way by others?
What are you doing just because it’s expected of you, when it goes against everything you think your life should be?
Stop participating in activities that stifle you. Don’t follow the herd when they jump off a cliff. Stop tolerating those people. Leave the places you’ve outgrown. Don’t stay in a situation that harms you just because someone expects you to play the supporting role to their center stage. Stop letting domineering personalities make you believe your most significant worth is how well your actions maintain their happiness. Know that it’s okay to move on, and know that you’re the one who gets to decide when.
It is my wish that every pair of eyes reading this right now will discover the full extent of their personal power to make any and all of those things happen.
In what I guess is my “send off” message, I encourage the same theme I’ve had going here for the past five or so years: If something in this post has prompted you to consider your life, let yourself consider it. More than anything, I want to help people see there are ways to do and to be what they want, and that maybe by witnessing someone do or become whatever those things are, that they find their own courage to do or be it, too. I feel very blessed that I’ve been able to do that with this particular blog over the past decade, and I plan on continuing to use my writing to empower.
Because I’m going to continue being who I am. I’m always going to be the advocate, I am always going to be the one who fights for those who can’t speak up and I am always going to be the one who speaks the truth, no matter which sphere I’m a part of at any given time, no matter which illness or injustice or imbalance I have to stand against. I will always be a little “too much” for some people and “not enough” of something for others. And I will always fight so ferociously for myself and others because of the depth of my love for us all.
Brace yourself for this next part if you’ve known me for a while, as it may come as a shock, and may also be triggering to those with PTSD, particularly Complex PTSD.
To state the bare facts: I have been traumatized and abused extensively in my lifetime, both in childhood and well into adulthood by sociopathic narcissists in my “family” of origin. I moved from here long ago, but was forced to move back to physically survive after I contracted several infections at once and became so ill that I was just barely evading organ failure at the worst of it. (Your organs start shutting down after your oxygen concentration dips below 80%, and mine was, well, exactly eighty percent.) But the only sane, truly loving, authentically compassionate person in my family died while I was still undergoing treatments. After that, my day-to-day existence became dependent upon “help” from these extremely abusive people.
Accepting help from a “narcopath” is the same as signing a contract with them ensuring they get full rights to abuse you in any way they want, with the hidden clause that you are not allowed to protest or they’ll systemically and immediately take all of that assistance away, usually in the order of most-critical-first so as to have the most impact.
I vividly remember the first time I fought back against being abused after my last loving family member had passed away. What followed became a clear message of what lengths they’d go to show me just who had the power now, and that it was no longer me. I wanted to call the police, but I knew that drawing that much outside attention to what I was experiencing would only guarantee even worse verbal, emotional, financial, psychological, and indirect physical abuse in the short-term AND long-term, as punishment. As it turns out, I experienced more and more of all those things, anyway, as the years went on. Abuse doesn’t get better, only worse. If you can identify with any of this, start planning your leave.
Indirect physical abuse is a type of physical abuse where the abuser intends to cause you physical harm, while stopping short of actually hitting you because that would leave proof which could get them arrested. For example, stranding a wheelchair-bound person somewhere without their wheelchair, or purposefully triggering someone’s PTSD (or any other illness) with the intention of causing them visible anguish. There are those in my extended family who have even been thrown into comas when their psychopathic partners intentionally triggered them into violent asthma attacks in order to watch them suffer. These incidents are usually followed by short-lived “honeymoon” periods to prevent the victim from catching on and trying to leave, but the cycle of abuse wheel will always keep turning.
There is a massive element of psychological abuse inherent in indirect physical abuse, because the perpetrator can usually gaslight the victim and even witnesses, including legal authorities, into believing that the victim “did it all to themselves,” since there is no physical mark left behind to help prove the origin of the harm was the abuser. Even though they can spend years learning the victim’s triggers and weaknesses so as to use them as weapons later on, it is much more difficult to prove malicious intent, and the abuser is usually very careful to only show this side of themselves to their victim. It is the reason “house of horrors” regularly show up on the news with neighbors claiming the perpetrators appeared good as gold to the outside world. Because these types know what is right and what is wrong, and which facade they have to apply, and when, and in front of whom, in order to continue hiding in plain sight.
There are innumerable reasons why I was forced to stay in that situation for so many years, and I’ll just have to trust that my readers will take into consideration my intelligence and my ability to make sane decisions, even when choosing the lesser of two evils. They treated me this way, for as long as they did, because they knew they could get away with it given the circumstances. When the circumstances changed and I became stronger, both physically and mentally, the abuse worsened in an attempt to keep me subdued. They should all be in jail for the things they’ve done to me and others, and in fact some of them actually are, for different abuses. But I have finally escaped from them, all of them, and I have a new roof over my head in a much safer location (unfortunately I don’t own this one, but). I have money with which to eat and survive, and no one knows where I now live.
I haven’t escaped unscathed, but in general, I am much more sound of mind than I probably should be, given my experiences. I wish I knew definitively why that is, but from my perspective, I think I owe this in part to:
Looking at things for what they are, even when those things are horrible, something not everyone can do;
Spiritual practices, including prayer, meditation, an unshakable belief in some sort of Universal Higher Power, mindfulness, and my understanding of the bigger picture (i.e. I am not my body but the divine spirit within this body);
Learning everything I can about narcissistic abuse and toxic family dynamics to remind myself it’s not “just me,” especially when I begin to falter and make excuses for them; and even
My near-death experiences, which helped remind me of the beauty and preciousness of life, and that abusers are only a small part of this world who can never override all the wonder and joy to be had here for those who are looking. Try as they might to control the reality of others, inflict purposeful harm, and prevent their victims from experiencing or showing happiness, they cannot override the dominant, divine forces of this planet.
And who knows what else. Of course this has come with a ridiculous amount of survivor’s guilt about being able to see through the madness and escape while others still believe in and suffer from the abusers’ alternate versions of reality… Which is probably why the survivor’s guilt related to other things–surviving hurricanes, floods, and the same diseases that have killed so many friends–has affected me so severely: it’s cumulative.
If I’ve gained anything from this situation, it’s that I have found and intimately know the real inner me, that still, small voice that is my Highest Self, and I know this part of me is always, always, always okay, no matter what. I’ve talked to people who don’t even know that place inside them exists, and yet it is the only reason I have been able to survive my life. I have, however, exhausted the limits of what I can handle on my own, and now it’s time to get help. I need treatment, and because I don’t have to be around the very people who are the reason I need that treatment in the first place, I can finally go get it.
I get to build a new life that fosters even more healing from all I’ve had to endure, including the life-altering disease that is PTSD. And I know I can do that, because I’m not afraid of facing harsh truths, and throughout my life I have always taken whatever anyone intended for my harm and transmuted it into knowledge that helped me become more loving, more joyful, more compassionate, and more resilient. I see my beauty for their ashes, and I want to use this next phase of my life to help others find theirs.
“But I’ve got a job to do, too. Where I’m going, you can’t follow. What I’ve got to do, you can’t be any part of. …I’m no good at being noble, but it doesn’t take much to see that the problems of three little people don’t amount to a hill of beans in this crazy world. Someday you’ll understand that. … Here’s looking at you, kid.”
When the National Academy of Medicine (NAM, formerly the Institute of Medicine/IOM) released its recommendations for Systemic Exertion Intolerance Disease (SEID) as a replacement for “ME/CFS,” I saw a lot of people spreading this myth: That “post exertional malaise” (PEM) is what differentiates myalgic encephalomyelitis (M.E.) from other illnesses. This is not true, nor is this what’s explained in the NAM’s report. At most, the report says that the presence of PEMhelpsdistinguish it from other conditions, while it is what best distinguishes “ME/CFS” from idiopathic chronic fatigue. PEM alone is not specific to M.E., Chronic fatigue syndrome (CFS), or SEID, just like unrefreshing sleep is not specific to any one disease.Continue reading “The Parts of ME: Does “Post Exertional Malaise (PEM)” exist in other diseases?”→
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Today is International Awareness Day for Chronic Immunological and Neurological Diseases. Feel free to share this page or download the graphic and share iton social media with friends, family, and your circles. Like most diseases, people never hear of this one until it happens to them or someone they love, but facts about classic M.E. have effectively been buried beneath 30 years of misinformation. Many have lived with these diagnoses for years and never heard any of this before! It doesn’t have to be like this.
I’m hoping people diagnosed with CFS (or diagnosed with “ME” but by using CFS criteria, which happens often in places like the UK) will read this, think twice about how exactly they got their diagnosis, and begin looking for the real cause of their symptoms with a doctor’s help. Or, if they do unfortunately meet the criteria for M.E., they will learn what they’re really up against, how to manage this disease appropriately, and might even be able to find specialists to help with specific symptoms. Learning that you have the real M.E. also gives you the opportunity to slow disease progression with things like mitochondrial support, immunoglobulin replacement therapy, treatment for secondary infections, and energy management such as pacing and switching, in contrast to forced exercise most recommend. Repeated episodes of paralysis can cause additional permanent damage to the muscles; those unaware they have M.E. wouldn’t know this.
Just remember: Whatever your symptoms, whatever your diagnosis, all of us in this community understand your suffering and want the best for each other. If you’ve had a long day of advocating, here’s some very good news, and your invitation to rest.