Thank you for writing this - it really captures what I’ve been feeling for a last few years. I always thought if I just did the right medication and therapy I’d be fixed. Then I finally got the CPSTD diagnosis and all the baggage that comes with it. The realization that there is no turning me into a person who didn’t suffer abuse. It took my hope for a long time but having read essays by survivors like yourself, it has shown me what my basement can look like.
I blame the “it’s like a broken leg” metaphor that was used a lot in when I first started seeking treatment as a teenager. The idea that I was just a broken bone that needed to be reset.
fucking hell, Esme. This was such a powerful piece and the truth of it has me crying my head off in a cafe full of people. I've never seen this named so clearly and beautifully, and ugh, I guess I just wanted to prepare for how heavy and also freeing it would feel.
The pain of life doesn’t go away, was what you wrote, said to me. It was like an aha moment for me. It becomes bearable somehow. We can’t expect common pain to be the stuff of relationships/ friendships. I understand that.
It’s a thing that I think a lot of survivors need a way to talk about. Maybe the basement language can work for that. & thank you so much for reading & sharing.
I’m stunned to hear that other people live in basements, too. I’ve always thought I was alone. Shivering in the invisible dark. Thank you, Esme.
hello to you in your basement from me in mine 💌
Thank you for writing this - it really captures what I’ve been feeling for a last few years. I always thought if I just did the right medication and therapy I’d be fixed. Then I finally got the CPSTD diagnosis and all the baggage that comes with it. The realization that there is no turning me into a person who didn’t suffer abuse. It took my hope for a long time but having read essays by survivors like yourself, it has shown me what my basement can look like.
"fixed" is such a hard thing to reckon with. i think it often does more harm than good.
I blame the “it’s like a broken leg” metaphor that was used a lot in when I first started seeking treatment as a teenager. The idea that I was just a broken bone that needed to be reset.
fucking hell, Esme. This was such a powerful piece and the truth of it has me crying my head off in a cafe full of people. I've never seen this named so clearly and beautifully, and ugh, I guess I just wanted to prepare for how heavy and also freeing it would feel.
Oh wow, I’m so moved. Thank you for reading it. I hope the crying was a good cry. ❤️
So good!
I have had a parallel thought that the is life is a hospital, and I hate hospitals. But one can find beauty in the hospital.
Yes yes yes
The pain of life doesn’t go away, was what you wrote, said to me. It was like an aha moment for me. It becomes bearable somehow. We can’t expect common pain to be the stuff of relationships/ friendships. I understand that.
Wow. This hit home. Thank you. 🙏 💕
thank you ❤️ thank you for reading
Wow! I needed this. Thank you!
It’s a thing that I think a lot of survivors need a way to talk about. Maybe the basement language can work for that. & thank you so much for reading & sharing.
Thank you for putting into words what I've been screaming/whispering from my basement for many years.
Wow, that means a lot to me—thank you thank you, Woz. ❤️
This was gorgeous - thank you for writing it!
thank you even more for reading it ❤️