I’ve spend enough time thinking about my childhood. Well, not that you could call it a childhood. I’ve spent enough time thinking and processing about the vile, disgusting excuses for human beings, who destroyed my childhood. I’ve processed enough of all they have done. All their intentional abuse. There is nothing that will change what they all did.
I do better now, when I don’t think about them. Thinking about them brings up too much pain, too many memories, too much suffering. They deserve nothing from me and I don’t deserve to have to endure any emotions about any of them. If they’re dead, they’re dead. What difference does it make. None.
So, I intend not thinking about any of it, as much as I possibly can. I can’t control my dreams and nightmares. I’ve accepted I will have them indefinitely. It’s cruel to have to endure them continually, but I have to accept it is the way it is. I accept severe PTSD is not curable, only manageable. I’ve also accepted I will always have re-experiencing issues of flashbacks, intrusive memories, which are also not in my control. But, I manage them better and as well as I can.
There is no good, that comes from thinking anymore, about the first 20 years of my life. It won’t change. It will always be horrendous. The people in it won’t change. They will always be horrendous. Nothing will change that.
There comes a point, after considerable processing, where you have to do all you can to avoid thinking about the past, as much as is possible. But, I validate the challenge of that, when you have non curable PTSD.