Originally, I started writing and the memories are just what came out. It felt so good to have the emotion out and over with that I tried it again. The third time I wrote because I was feeling scared and alone. Halfway through writing I started to feel a little more at peace. Writing seems to be pretty good therapy for me. Posting what I write has been extremely helpful, too. Instead of tucking those memories into a file folder on my computer, I am able to publish them. In a way, I am able to say, Hey! This is my dirty laundry and I really don't care if you see it. I am able to own my history even if it does sort of suck.
Post Traumatic Stress Disorder is a strange entity. The disorder takes an event that I was too traumatized to really experience the first time and replays it over and over and over again. In a way, this is a blessing. I am able to re-experience the trauma until I am able to handle it in an effective way. On the other hand, my brain spends an awful lot of time in what Anne Shirley would call, "the depths of despair." While in the deepest and scariest parts of PTSD, I am so afraid because my body is literally reliving the traumatic experience. What I lovingly refer to as my Unfortunate Period of Darkness was really a time of extremely intense emotion. During this period my body was in flight mode 24 hours a day. Sleeping wasn't even a reprieve. I would wake up in a breathless panic several times a night. It was PTSD's way of reminding me that it was still there and would not be leaving anytime soon.
Going from that intense emotion to a sedated sense of peace was like living in a euphoric cocoon. When my brain and my body were able to work through that trauma again, I was able to relax. I could sleep. I could eat. Everything looked, smelled, and seemed enchanted by this new found simplicity. For lack of a better analogy, I equate the feeling to being on a peaceful high after a bad trip. Unfortunately, flying high can't last forever.
What follows this surreal emotional roller coaster is a sort of status quo. This may sound like a pretty good deal following the previous emotional encounters. Unfortunately, this status quo often leaves me feeling bitter. Please don't misunderstand. I do not enjoy reliving the trauma. And the high is fabulous, but tainted by the knowledge that it will never last. I think the bitterness stems from a desire to experience intense emotion without the repercussions.
Something else that makes me feel bitter is that being on this roller coaster comes with labels. I fear that publicizing my walk through this crap makes me look the victim. I know that what I went through sucked, but I'm not sorry that I had those experiences. I do have days when I wish I had a mom or dad that I could go to. My parents may not be there for me, but they sure as hell made sure I knew how to be there for myself. The way they went about it was definitely twisted, but I know how to handle myself and for that I thank them.
Earlier this evening I was skimming through my notes. I wanted to do a little self-assessment and check my progress with PTSD. When I was reading through my memory notes, I realized that someone could easily mistake my words as acceptance of the victim title. I am not a victim. Those experiences are trials I lived through. I am not a victim of my parents and their delusional decisions. I look back and realize that for a kid who was learning the hard way, I kicked ass. I will probably continue to write about my memories. When I do, I will be writing to let go of the trauma and embrace the victory.
I am so thankful to be surrounded by such wonderful people. There are people who have stuck with me since I was in high school and college. And my SnB gals are absolutely amazing. I am surrounded by fantastic people. Thank you all for being so supportive and encouraging. You guys have all been proof that good people do exist and I thank God for each of you and the lessons I've learned from you.
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