Today I looked at my blog stats and found that somebody had typed "Complex PTSD and I don't cry in front . . . " as a search term. I can only imagine that if the term had been completed on my stats page, it might have said, ". . . I don't cry in front of anyone." I'd like to address this term as best I can. It's important!
Anyone who has been through the long-term abuses that underlie Complex PTSD has plenty to cry about! The problem is that a lot of us who suffer from the disorder were taught not to cry. And for many of us, the training began when we were babies and toddlers. Is it any wonder that we can't cry now? We learned our lesson so well!
For those of us who had authoritarian parents of the Hitler era, the 1930s and 1940s, teaching the child not to cry or show other natural emotions was a normal part of parenting. Those parents had generally been taught not to cry or to show anger, so it was natural that the children of those parents be taught the same lessons.
When I was about eleven I was going through my mother's cedar chest where she stored a lot of belongings that she no longer used but could not bear to throw away--baby clothes, keepsakes from loved ones who had died, locks of hair from long-dead relatives, and so forth. Among these relics I found a "how to" manual on child raising published by the U.S. government in the late 1930s. I remember being impressed by a photo of a little girl with a splint on her arm. Did she have a broken arm? No, but she sucked her thumb! The splint was suggested to prevent her from reaching her mouth with her thumb.
Among other mandates to parents, the book advised parents of the necessity for breaking the child's will and letting the baby or child know that the parents are the boss. Parents were told to let the baby cry between feedings and to never, ever pick the baby up until it was time to feed it. Picking up a baby between feedings, according to the booklet, spoiled the baby and let him or her rule the roost. Thus, no matter why the baby cried, be it from gas pains or from some other discomfort, the baby was doomed to suffer for the entire four hours between feedings. Most babies of these authoritarian parents probably learned that no matter how badly they hurt, crying was not going to bring comfort.
Later, after the baby grew to be a toddler, the no-crying rule was actively reinforced. Have you ever heard a parent shout, "Shut up or I'll give you something that will really make you cry!"? That message would be enough to intimidate most small children, especially those who had continued crying and had been beaten as a result. My parents were a bit more "civilized." Rather than beat me for crying, they jeered at me and laughed. Then they told me to go get a milk bottle and fill it with my tears. By the time I was five, I no longer cried.
Oh, I did forget my lesson once. When I was about 23, I cried at my dad's funeral. My mother poked me in the side and whispered, "Jeanie, stop crying. You're making a spectacle of yourself." Neither she nor my brother cried. I certainly flunked that test! But for the most part, I remembered my lesson. I didn't cry at age four when I was forced to pose nude for my parents' friends, nor did I cry at age five when the neighbor woman sexually abused me, nor did I cry when boys caught me on the way home from school and shoved sticks up me, nor did I cry as a result of being sexually assaulted on a regular basis by my former husband during my long marriage. So, overall, I'd say the lesson my parents taught me "stuck."
To the person who entered the search term "Complex PTSD and I don't cry in front . . ., " then, all I can say is that I understand the pain and frustration underlying your search. You are not alone. Plenty of us who have C-PTSD are unable to cry. Crying is a normal and natural response to pain. How can we unlearn the lessons we were taught and learned so well? I'm not really sure; however, I suspect that those of us who are healing from C-PTSD will be able to cry when the time comes. At least, that's what I believe. When will the time come? I don't know. I just trust that it will come.
Here's a Scottish saying that helps me stay on the path: The tree doesn't always fall at the first stroke. Remembering this saying and the other bits of Scottish wisdom I have accumulated helps me continue putting one foot in front of the other and keeps me truckin' along. May it also help you! Peace . . .
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