I’m rushing out of the class, into a change room holding onto that this isn’t real. Face in my hands, I want to be so angry at myself for being like this, I want to blame myself for my brain doing this to me. Guided breathing- eyes closed, easy right? Why me? Why is this a fucking trigger? I can feel his weight on me, his breath in my ear telling me I’ll be a woman that men would want if I just obey- I open my eyes and don’t hear anything, I don’t feel anything except a giant elephant on my chest. I hold back the tears as much as I can, till it looks like its normal for me to escape- even though I want to run away as fast as I can. Why is this my normal?
I have had my fair share of trauma, abuse and seen the depths of hell that most people are lucky enough never to see. I spent years pushing it under the rug, burying everything into tiny boxes into my brain, my mind won’t let me willingly access these memories.
I finally decided if I want to help others? I was going to have to get help myself. I still am getting help, therapy once a month and counseling twice while I am in school because therapy 2x a month was too hard for me. I want to help others, I want to be the voice for the voiceless. For domestic violence I can talk about escaping one relationship, I am strong enough to express what he did to me, how I survived Satan.
I am slowly getting strong enough to slowly talk about the guy who tried to kill me, more than once, who broke a couple ribs just because I didn’t clean the floor well enough. I am not strong enough to get past the flashbacks of him choking me, of the nightmares I have had for 6 years- him chasing me, always trying to catch me and kill me. His last promise.
Nor am I anywhere near ready to talk about my childhood trauma, it may not even be that I am not strong enough. I can’t remember, I can’t recount the memories when I want to. They come in flashbacks, always when I am not at home, my first instinct is to run. I am a person who flees, I am working hard at becoming a person who fights, I am a fighter deep inside and I know I am.
PTSD, it seems most people assume this is for veteran’s and I couldn’t image what they have gone through, but it doesn’t just affect them. People with trauma, child abuse, rape and sexual abuse along with other things- they get it too.
I was content when everything was locked up within, I can admit that I felt off, I felt like I couldn’t connect with others, but it was ok. Therapy has cracked open the start of flashbacks, I know that I must deal with them, I know that I must be stronger. They hurt, they are fucking exhausting and sometimes they are new and terrifying- another piece of the puzzle comes to light in my head and I feel scared, but I have learned to ground myself which I find is very helpful.
I will encounter a flashback, it’s like my mind can’t think of anything else. I can feel the weight of another human on me- even though it’s not there. I can smell and hear things that aren’t there, I can feel the fear that wants to swallow me whole.
I feel the anxiety of it, I feel the need to throw up, to curl into a ball so they can’t find me, so I am safe. However, I am learning to deal, I hold onto that I am safe now, I hold that until I can reach a different place away from people. I count things around me it doesn’t matter what it is- I just count, remind myself where I am. Afterward, the elephant stays on my chest for awhile, and I am exhausted like I ran a marathon.
We all have a story, mine just likes to take me back to a point where I was 12 years old suffering under the hands of a “man”, or when I was 24-25 being abused for things barely in my control, or the emotional torture of 2016. I know I will overcome this part, I physically escaped and now I must break the bonds that bind within my mind. These flashbacks bring me back to a place in my story that I don’t want to be, I don’t want to experience again- over and over.
My inner critic is such a bitch, while I try to ground myself to the present and know that I am safe. She is there in my head telling me how stupid I am, how terrible I am that I cannot control this, that I let these flashbacks take minutes out of my life, that I can’t just be like other people. I do my best to ignore her because she isn’t helping at all. I do feel guilty after the flashbacks, but I never asked for this, I never wanted this.
The worst part is that while my memory sucked everything away unable for me to access, it took my ability to visualize, it took every memory, not just the bad ones but all. This is a reason I push onward to gain access to the memories good or bad so I can have those back.
I know that I can come out the other side and I know that I will help others. I know that this isn’t all there is for me because I wasn’t put through everything just to be mediocre. I am meant to be great, to help change the world, and to let others know? They aren’t alone.
Be A Part Of The Inspiration
Be The Inspiration
Self-love~ Health~ Change