I’ve heard this is a C-PTSD thing, and I’m inclined to believe it. Anything I could possibly realistically want is like locked behind some awful haze. Ever since I was a teenager and people asked me what I wanted out of life it was like a total confusion like “I might as well go live out of a cardboard box in a parking lot; this life is waiting to die.” Bc that’s the fucking “Good News” I was taught—“Congratulations, Charity Case™️, you aren’t going to hell. Now the rest of your life is fulfilling an infinite debt guilt trip while waiting to die, and welcoming it.”

Every single thing I took an interest in before age ten was somehow diverted into a sales pitch for a human sacrifice; every kind of achievement downplayed or even kept from me bc my father wanted to keep me from being “proud.”

Now I’m 31 with nothing to show from life except dodged opportunities, running away from self-authorship (bc you “can’t trust ‘the flesh’)… and when I try to come up with a plan it’s like I hit a fucking WALL and fall into scrupulosity and shame attacks, or else rabid inner critic cutting me down that it’s all just grandiosity.

I can’t trust any therapist bc through my cult-member-kid eyes them trying to help me build empowered self esteem is them trying to “manipulate” me into satan’s grasp of denying my worthlessness. But, like, it’s not like having one more codependent does anyone any good either.

Every day is just either disassociating in lala land on fantasy scenarios or else having to talk to myself like a baby in order to not have room-spinning shame attacks.

All the things my parents have ever done for me feel entirely undeserved, only deepening the “charity case” thing and the sense that I am an infinite debtor in virtue of being alive.

And all that only to be told by my Dad “Wow… you take everything so literally.”

It’s like “Dude you read me tales of martyrdom at age 10 and kept continually reminding me of a brutal Bronze Age human sacrifice… what the fuck else was I supposed to do?”

On good days I believe I’ve been given permission from God to exist and be myself but with everything else it’s like I am completely “frozen” in a holding pattern pending external permission that will never, ever come. Nor is it anyone’s responsibility to “direct” my life like a dog. Like what the fuck this is so moronic.

I fucking hate this shit. This is horse shit.

Edit: nvm, baby needed to go for a walk; tbh this is me having a “victim puke”, griping about how much work everyday life is (compared to the flowers and rainbows of how life was magically supposed to go so long as I followed the impossible standards that damn everyone).

Nobody is coming to save me. Nobody was put here to provide for my needs. And those are just facts. OK. The hard part is developing the emotional literacy to not make myself my loved ones’ problem and take ownership of this ship. It feels so frightening, when you’ve been threatened with that “deny yourself and carry your cross” stuff. Yea well two hands carrying a cross are two that can’t do anything else for themselves. Oh but good thing I have everyone’s attention about how much of a victim I am, oh woe is me. Yes, surely that is the point of life—displays of vulnerable narcissism.

Whatever, honestly 🙄