Sometimes, just being alive is the trigger.
That is the epitome of my experience with PTSD resulting from intense and continuous childhood sexual abuse.
When the memories came up I spent six months telling my mentor I couldn’t believe I was still alive. And then I spent almost three years suicidal.
It is exactly four years since I entered the hospital in a series of four attempts to save my life because I actually wanted and had a plan to take it.
Real life is harsh.
It’s what horror movies are based on.
I’m happy to be alive.
I am also extremely depressed.
Intense trauma therapy will do this to someone. It’s like ripping out all of my insides, performing life saving surgery on each organ without the degree and training, and then being asked to eat them.
What some people call a normal day like going to work, making dinner, and going on a walk with their spouse I call my battles.
There are times that what is normal for others is a war for me and I have to armor up. Tomorrow I’ll need to draw warrior lines under my eyes. Because I’m up in the middle of the night with more nightmares and I want to do what’s best for me, but don’t know the answer. Again.
It won’t always be this way. I know this.
I’m doing the work.
I’m also doing the playing.
And the dance.
I’ve been on the waiting list for a support group. I need this. Some people just don’t understand what it’s like when you could never trust anyone.
If I’ve learned anything it’s that I am trustworthy.
Finally I believe that.
I can’t wait to understand what I’m saying.
If you are reading this. Just know you are the only one who can do the work. And you can. If you are reading this. I believe you can. Trust the unknown parts of yourself and somehow be okay with the trials and mistakes. It’s the in between moments that really mean the most.