Forgiveness

I ran into someone today in Huonville who asked me how I was, as they had not seen me for a while and I was very rarely on Facebook. I responded no I did not go on much. That I was actually not bad, and quite content being at home, attending to things. He asked me if I was unwell withdrawn or OK being at home.
I reassured him that I am perhaps feeling the best I have been in a long time. That I was OK at home. I was very aware I need to have social input. At the same time I know for me that I need to limit that.

I surprised myself when I said this. I also realised the truth I had spoken.

I enjoy my lifestyle and always have tended to be happy enough on my own (apart form when I lived with someone and especially when I lived with my partner for a lengthy number of years before he died).

I have a lifted spirit, and have be doing some small things in my home.

Now I do not think I have mentioned, that part of my CPTSD saw me become a hoarder. It was the way for me to keep people out of my home. It was cheaper than building a wall, and along with never asking anyone to visit, created a total impregnable barrier.

Several of years ago, while seeing another psychologist (whom I never really connected with Though he thought differently. Weird that, I read some notes he wrote to my GP at the time, whose office closed and I was able to get my complete notes from it ). He decided to work with the hoarding as my major issue.

This psychologist also encouraged/pushed me to be referred to a social worker. Who was a nice enough fellow, but not at all it seemed to me at the time, or in hindsight knowledgeable about hoarding and how to help.

I was extremely unwell at the time, and really was not able to say no to things. I also was fighting to stay out of hospital. As I did not want to have to be admitted to the mental health ward/s I had worked.

After a few visits at coffee shops with the social worker, and me sharing the issues of hoarding and my home with him. He somehow ended up coming into my house with my invitation. Within three days I had a skip and someone coming to help me get sorted. Perhaps anyone with anxiety, CPTSD and huge trust issues might understand the distress and angst I was feeling. I was extremely worried that the person coming would know me. Maybe in a professional capacity.

I also felt mortified because unbeknown to me the social worker had hired a large skip to my place.

The day came and the woman turned up. She was a lovely person, and I saw the disgust and sadness in her eyes. She was a doer. She was a cleaner not someone with knowledge or experience of assisting hoarders to work through the hoard and issues that go with that.

This was not her fault, and as she was in my home and I was so unwell mentally, that we both just began cleaning and throwing things out. All the while me feeling panicking, and sick in my stomach. I had a headache, my jaw was clenched and I did not want to chat. I dreaded each day she was due.

I did attempt to explain my situation. She bless her did her best. I on the other hand felt pressured and guilt, I was very ashamed and distressed. I continued with this set up for four weeks. In the end I had to say to the social worker that it was causing me great angst and I was feeling worse especially on the mornings she was due. I was triggered and I just wanted to not answer the door in fact I did not want to get out of bed.

It is quite strange even writing about this situation is causing the symptoms again.
In the end I explained to this lovely woman it was just not working for me. That I had appreciated her help very much. When she left I went to bed and did not get up for two days, except for the dogs and my needs, and food for the dogs.
I ignored for the next fortnight the Social workers calls, and messages.

Eventually I came out of my room and contacted him. He was helping to find a Mens Shed Organisation to come and take my partners wood turning and wood working set up as a donation.

This was going to be so hard for me. I had taken ages to decide what I wanted to do with it all. I thought about selling it but I was to unwell at the time and I just wanted it all gone.

I had been in his workshop and sorted through everything that I wanted to keep, I had taken some items into the house, and stacked everything else separately away in a corner. I showed the social worker what was to remain.

I knew it was going to be a traumatic and emotive time when the lathe and his own tools were removed. I could not be at home while it was happening. I explained this to the Social worker, and he reasured me he would be there.

I was numb when I left in the morning. I took my dogs for a walk along the river and then we went and met up with a friend at a local cafe. I was not thinking about any of it.

A few hours later I returned home with great trepidation. I was really uncertain how I was going to be impacted with my partners passion his wood turning lathe, his carving tools, his woodworking books, the band saw and the bench all gone.

I parked the car, let the dogs out and noted that the large skip was fairly full. I wandered over and to my dismay there were all the things I had put aside that I wanted. Things that I needed for the garden, some paint to finish some things. Bits and bob, netting for my fruit trees. All covered in oil and sawdust. I panicked and attempted to pull everything out, but items were broken, and as I said covered in oil. Some of the tins of paint had spilt. I was so upset. I recall I just threw my arms up in the air and sobbed loudly.

I then charged up the steps into the workshop. I stopped and was flummoxed. There was just an empty room. A totally EMPTY ROOM. All the shelving had been removed. All the containers of screws, nails, bolts, bits and pieces that my partner had saved, collected to repair things in your home. Especially when you are the person who built the home and know every nook and cranny every gap and thing that will get finished one day. The chain saw and drill, the axe. Paint rollers, brushes. My things that were now in the bin. Destroyed. All The very things I had said to the social worker were to stay!

How could this have happened.

I was floored. I was angry, wounded, I was bewildered, lost. I had made sure the social worker knew what was too go. What was to stay. How could this of happened? Of course it was to late to contact the social worker by this time.
A really bad nights sleep, and my mind just going over and over what did I do or say wrong that caused this to happen. Grief overwhelmed me, I had lost everything EVERYTHING and given away treasured items, I felt so let down.
I rang the social worker in the morning. It was quite weird and I have to honestly say I do not have a huge recollection of what happened, with the exception that he did say he was not there at my house when the men came to remove everything. I had never met any of these men, I did not know any of their names I did not even know where everything ended up. I know at that point I really just shut down. I could take no more.

I never spoke to this person again. I never reported or lodged a complaint. I just sat in my home, cuddling my dogs. I stayed home for a few days and began to hoard even more bizarre things. I did not go out, I did not shower, I did not clean, wash up. All I could manage was to ensure my lifelines, my dogs were exercised fed and loved.

The trust I had begun to rekindle in people was gone. TOTALLY and UTTERLY gone.

I did eventually realise how I was deteriorating and went to see my fantastic GP (who left a year later to go and become a psychiatrist) . It was through her I was put on the council program and met the psychologist I have now.

Now if I feel that my trust has been taken advantage off, or I have been manipulated I do not even bother to say anything. I just never go back to the place, or deal with the person, or continue the friendship of the person where I feel this has happened.

It took me so long to be able to ask for help.
Then to let someone inside my home and see how bad it was.
To let someone in to help me ‘clean’

Even now as I write I feel violated and that is such a weird word to write when I am talking about this.

I am OK and it always help to share and write things down I find.

I feel from my own perspective and experience. The ‘kind meaningful help’ that can be offered to anyone with a mental illness or chronic illness, a disabilty, are so very subjective and if respect and understanding, and most importantly keeping the promises you make as a paid support worker are not met.
I ponder how the duty of care is maintained.

Perhaps if I had lodged complaints about what occurred it might have helped. I was to unwell and mentally not competent to undertake this. Not even in a phone call. I could not even say what I really felt to the social worker.

What I do know is that it put me backwards in my treatment and I quit the psychologist at the same time, never explaining or seeing him again. He never followed up to see if I was OK.

I struggle now to let workman into my home. I need a couple of things fixed.
I let one in to fix a leak under my verandah door upstairs in my bedroom, that leaks into my kitchen.
He assured me he could do it. He was a lovely man. I had to call him back three times as each time (when it rained the leak was actually worse than it had been origianlly).
In the end he just said he could not do anything else? I wanted to scream, again I could not. I had paid him in full. (you only find out the job doesn’t work when it rains. I did not think to put the hose over it. So now I can not afford to pay someone else to fix it.
I dont have any trust in anyone else to fix it. I keep thinking I can probably fix it. (maybe I can). lol.
Living rurally can be hard to get anyone to come out here.

Even with sharing all of this, I still feel better than I have in a long time.
I am sleeping in weird patterns, I sleep for two weeks 12-14 hours then for 4 night 4-6 than the for some nights 8 hours. It seems to be a cyclic thing, so perhaps the medication. I also have really bizzare dreams and sleep very heavily. I do find taking paracetamol and ibuprofen seem to stop the dreams. That seem so real.

wow did this post go a way I did not see coming..

I am falling in love with my home, I am seeing it again, and wanting to slowly remove things. One of the things I was hoarding were cardboard boxes. To use to kill of the grass about the veggie area and pathways. Now I bring a box home, empty it, and then flatten it and go place it out side where I want it to go.
There are no boxes inside my home. Where a few months ago I had 30. One situation is being managed. I am proud of that.

Moving and improving your life with CPTSD is about so many things. I found forgiveness was a huge milestone for me. I may have posted this on another post. Forgiving the people who abused me. Not to their faces, or in writing. I just voice my forgiveness. I did it purely for me. I just basically with a sincere heart said. I forgive……,……, and……,……. ect for what they did to/at/against me. I will let it go.
I felt something give, something change. Like a hole opened and a light shone inside me. I felt brighter. I felt less anger.

It has been over a month closer to two since I did this.
I now am able to work on changing my mood and not fixate so much. I am more positive. This ties in to the very first paragraph.

I have forgiven the Social Worker and the Person who came to fix my leak. Again not in person, or a letter but for me. I feel a sense of another piece has fallen off my wall.

I am thankful that all this happened as it was through this whole shebang that I ended up on a Huon Valley Council mental health package where I met my current psychologist. I am so SO very thankful for Her.

I feel at peace in my home. I no longer want to flee, because I can not deal with the hoard and mess. I don’t like the way it is however I know that it is a very slow, time consuming and emotive at times, work in progress. That in all honesty I must do on my own.

Umm Have I mentioned I have a bit of a tendency for OCD. Now my psychologist explained it well to me. When my home is clean and comfortable. I tend to like my CDs in alphabetical order, my books in genre and alphbetised by Author. My pantry in food types and alphabetised, My wardrobe and drawers in type ie pants, shirts and within that colour groupings. So her feelings are that it part of what is inhibiting me.

Perhaps I will share more of my work in dealing with my hoarding here.

I also note that having connected with so many other peoples blogs some with CPTSD some with depression anxiety, physical, chronic, illnesses and disabilities, others with none. Connecting and reading stories written by wonderful writers, from all over the world.
Connecting with an supportive art group from beginners through. I am meeting people I would never have had the opportunity to have connected with in my life here in Tassie.

I feel so thankful to have all of these experiences, I feel thankful to have had my breakdown and I know that sounds really weird. I just see my life in such a very different way now, and I accept it. I also do not really care if others do not.

I am so happy to have connected (even if I have not done any painting this week ) with the art group, I am thankful for them and Charlie for his blog Doodlewash. https://doodlewash.com/

Thankful to my neighbours, who I know keep an eye on me.
Especially thankful to these two.

blessings to you all Tazzie