Childhood trauma leaves mark on DNA of some victims: Gene-environment interaction causes lifelong dysregulation of stress hormones

Childhood trauma leaves mark on DNA of some victims: Gene-environment interaction causes lifelong dysregulation of stress hormones

Experts

I have far too many counter arguement and views about addiction and I can't come to any solid conclusion, at the fluidity of the diagnosis. This is because as, I mature, much of what used to plague my brain has dissolved or evolved
The best, I am able to agree on is, a collection of compulsive and obsessive drives, lose direction as, a result of  an individual facing particular trauma, at key developmental stages. This is aside from a persons supposed pleasure principles and death instinct. Jung refers too.
I am also not taking into account, location, ability, health, environment, opportunity, peer groups, etc as, one brother won't always follow an another brother, despite sharing trauma.
We all react differently but at the same time, if I yawn in a room, there is a good chance, others will yawn too.
I don't proclaim to be an expert on the subject matter either, despite having more experiences of collective services, than most people. 12 rehabs, over 20 detoxes, decades of social service involvement,  multiple scripts, buying street drugs and medications, selling drugs, 35 years of criminal justice involvement, approved schools, 10 years in NA, 12 years of trying to avoid the model, divorce, loss of kids, breaks ups, all relapse related.
I worked in the drugs field for nearly 2 decades, its a common client promotion, give up the drugs and we have a seat at the table sort of thing. I gave up the drugs worked for 7 years and then shifted from abstinence to a relapse. helter skelter or did I. I believe relapse is a by product of abstinence, so you follow rules until you either survive them and mature of you run back into the rooms with your tail between your legs with stories of woe and befall. The fact is we mature out of most of our addictions obsessive compulsions or we over indulge to the point of obesity.

Why don't I get it

I was just sitting mind numbingly scrolling down my face book live feed and thinking why don't I get it with these people. I have about 200 people on my friends list and if I put a post in I will be lucky for one person  to click, like or comment. Then if they do comment its usually closed commenting, meaning there isn't much for me to respond too.
I keep thinking to myself, have I got people problems. My daughter was trying to go through names today of people she thought were my friends. She said you like ????, I said well, I do and I don't. I don't really know them to be honest. However she covered about 3 names and that was the total of my friends, strangers I meet on the street. I have never been so lonely and resistant to develop new friendship. I have lived a life of relapsing, which means people either died, moved on or left me behind.

I don't really know what I am writing, as all I am trying to do is stop myself over posting on facebook to no one who really has the time to care or get through my defences. I want to have friends but for some reason this area crushes all my motivation. Its living 200 yards away from my ex and sharing our daughter like she is a communal fridge.

I have stopped blogging on the facebook page under the same name as this one because people kept bitch slapping me and telling me my ex was taking the piss out of me. She is not and I am not anyones bitch.
Being involved with a your children after a break up is fucking hard and having people just say all the time be a man and tell her to fuck off, when I have been through that process a hundred times before with no great successful results is counter productive and not fucking helpful.

My daughter is with her mum tonight, I asked her mum to take her away for the night around about 3pm, it was either that or have her linger around my house for 3 hours sitting on her iphone, beep beep beeping. I am so wrapped up in this shit, I can't see the wood for the tree's.

maybe I have used up my time in life with all the surviving of hazardous situations I have scraped through. for what.

Sunday bloody Sunday

My phone rang just after 7.30am, to say, Phoebe was missing me and wanted to show me the xmas tree they had put up this morning. I stumbled out of bed with a human heart and fell on a mechanical brain.
I was dressed and two coffees later I was traipsing down the hill joyfully listening to odds and ends of music I had posted a few days earlier.I had found the head phone I was given with, the iphone so, I used the novelty of music, to ease my path.
I reached the house of pain, withdrew the key, I don't like having, drew my breath, buckled my belt and entered the chamber of rejection.
The chicken, I purchased from Asda the day before, was cooking up a storm of aromatic seduction, I was hungry and Sunday dinner for breakfast sounded like a better plan than, waiting around till the wolf howled.
My daughter shot me a look, which communicated a thousands why and where's.
She was angry with me and wanted to let me know, by the use of exclusion. I was to be ignored for the best part of 3 hours.
We just don't jell, in the other house, the way we do here. There is only one sofa and her mum sits on it, so I am always dotted around on a kids chair or poofie. Actually, if the truth be known, mostly, I will be found running around after the kid in the kitchen, while cooking, cleaning or making bloody rollups.
Her mum was complaining about having a sore back, thats what the early morning call was about, energetic kid, ME mum. hmmm.

I had to escape the house, her mum, I said 'you go to bed with a DF  and I will take Phoebe around town and do some shopping. Everyone was out of sinc.
Jump back, we had the Sunday dinner, including; roast potato's and Parsnip, boiled savoy cabbage, carrots and gravy from the chicken juice, at about 12 noon. It went down a treat.
The chicken is more for the kid and the cat, more the cat than anyone. Its my cat, well' was my cat until she made the choice to leave here and turn up there 3 days later.
When we left the house we bumped into old man John and his dog Belle, he has been trying to befriend us since the summer but I hadn't seen him for a few months. I don't really like him to want to reciprocate the friendship gesture but my kid loves his dog. He said 'he was popping in to take out some money and would be in later if I was passing. I said yeah I will try and pop in but thought fcuk that 'I don't like you mate' and pulled away. My kid wanted to follow the man to the shops, saying come quick lets catch up with John and Belle and throwing mini tantrums at my attempts to thwart her attention. I eventually said to her Daddy doesn't like the man, he is not a friend of mine so let it go your winding me up. She stopped and we ran off to run through an empty shopping quadrant to find Asda. I forgot to mention it was pouring with rain outside and its a mile walk to the store.
When we arrived she wanted a trolley and I didn't want one as, they were all wet and I buy too much, when I have a trolley and it wasn't my card, I was using.
I eventually caved, she wanted a small trolley, there was none around so, we had to search the car park for a small one. I remembered seeing a group of them on the way into the area. When we eventually arrived at the furthest trolley shed to find small and big ones she decided she wanted to sit in a big one now. Oh Phoebe you do make me laugh I said.
It took ages to get around the store and walk out with the six bags of shopping in hand, 4 more than I should have been buying.
The rain was pelting down by now but fortunately apart from the car park we can find our way back to her mums under shelter, even though its a trek.
When we arrived back at her mums, she returned to being angry with me. I said to her earlier in the morning when I first arrived 'are you angry with me, for leaving yesterday' she said 'yes'. It kind of hung in the air. I hate the feelings she is starting to discuss because they are all directed at me, she sees her mum as the innocent one and blames me for taking her away and not being nicer to her mum. She doesn't get it and me being pulled down to that house all the time or her mum coming here is really confusing her but her mum, seems oblivious to it all.
I cleaned up down there, talked the kid around and parted ways with her mum around 4pm she was too tired to give us a lift back up the road, with all our bags and things.
As soon as we go back my kid went into her room, jumped on her bed a bit and then proclaimed she hated me. I said oh Phoebe hate is a strong word, to use. I get your angry but its really as painful for me as it is you to be dealing with all this stuff, all the time. I reassured her we would find the answer and make things all better, we made up and played games for an hour or so until sleepy time.
Lately, she has been doing allot of talking in her sleep, especially the earlier parts of the evening but tonight apart from 2 pee's she has been quiet. I did just receive a text from her mum to say she has just woke up, I thought a but late for that. This has been a normal Sunday for me and people wonder why I stress over going down there. Its got nothing to do with sex and everything to do with respect and closure

not working

Why am I not working... I have bundles of solid working experience.
It feels like 17 years has been pulled from under me but is it. I don't know, for the past 3 years, I have battered my confidence, self identity and masculinity, for mostly, no good reason what so ever.
For a while, I was considering the barbering idea, which I still would like to follow through with, just for the skill base if nothing else.
However, this employability status, is irking me, I am bored and connectionless . Sometimes, its feels like people need to see me in a working capacity to manage what I have to say or they cant take my random swings of thought and logic . The comprehension part goes amiss and I get dooh or patronsing advice. The context is too wild for them or what ever.
I want a job and need to chop out of my brain, I need to be 2 years abstinent even to consider going back to work. Its a nasty bug I fought for decades.
There is always a reasons, always. mine.
I went 22 years without committing a crime when I drunkenly climbed through a neighbours window and ended up with a new criminal offence and a 18 month drug rehabilitation order. It was my down fall because I was to embark upon a journey of exposure to all the local services I worked in the years before as a professional and was now a client. Oh and my daughters mum worked in said service. Oh oh am trapped, like fool, I cant escape. sorry

starting

I first started considering under taking a blog a few years ago at the time though, I wasn't that clue'd up about internet blogging sites. I there for found myself writing mini blogs in drug forums but not really attaching myself to one or the other.
My last adventure was to start a page on Face Book under the same name as this blog. However, I was receiving naive or condescending response. It just wasn't working as, I had started worry about people liking the page, thinking I was spamming them with my posts and shares. I then started becoming up set when people would join my page and leave within a day. I just discovered I can take the like thumb away, which I just did. you can't stick a clock in front of my dyslexic eyes and expect me not look at it all the time.

I am a single dad on a Subutex prescription, probably still broken hearted and just coming out of a major life crisis and break down.