This Journey

This blog is to share my journal entries as I work through trauma therapy for Complex PTSD.

Writing It Down

My therapist told me to write down my story. That sounded so damn awful! I drove home from my appointment, locked my bedroom door from kids, dog, and husband, crawled into bed, and pulled the blankets over my head. That wasn’t enough, so I added 3 pillows on top of my head. Still a freaking awful overwhelming idea!

It’s better to feel pain, than nothing at all

The opposite of love’s indifference

So pay attention now

Lumineers, Stubborn love

But here I am. I will try. Somehow. To be clear, I cannot tell my story from beginning to end like a beautifully written novel. Not that there’s anything beautiful about it, but also, no matter how hard I try to force my mind to play it out that way, my narrative is a jumbled mess. My memory sucks and I have gaps all over the place.

PTSD

In January 2020, at the age of 44, I was diagnosed with cPTSD. The symptoms I focus on most are from dating my first husband 25 years ago…and the 10 years we were together. It truly blows my mind that I can have this diagnosis after such a length of time. It feels like one more thing wrong with me, one more thing to be ashamed of – that I don’t possess the strength needed to move past events in all this time.

I read somewhere that 4 people can be in the same vehicle, get into a terrible car wreck and 3 of them recover from the physical and emotional injuries and move on with life. The 4th one develops PTSD and is stuck in the traumatic experience.

thirteen years ago

By the end of my first marriage, I fell HARD.  I mean, I was also an absolute mess long before that, but that’s when everything unraveled. After 10 years of abuse, I struggled badly with suicidal thoughts. The depression was suffocating. My amazing 6-figure career was hanging by threads and nearly over. Divorce and joint custody were looming over my head. I was utterly alone as my husband had forced me to cut ties with all friends and family many years earlier. Escape from this pain was all I wanted now. Suicide seemed like a dear friend.

Thirteen years later I’m dealing with the pain to more fully gain my life back, to stop the numbing, stop the silence, voice the secrets, and to feel all of it.

There is no impressive sexy fast recovery story. It’s messy and painful, this life, this healing journey.

the journey includes victim and survivor

I have never viewed myself as a victim. The word disgusts me, I can’t even say it aloud. That seemed like a good thing, to not view myself in this light. A victim mentality is pathetic, right? Nope! My therapist says I will someday accept that I was a victim and that it is in the past. It is finished but I still must accept that it was my life. The goal is to instead view myself as a survivor. However, I’m not comfortable yet with this survivor concept either – perhaps because I have not accepted the victim part.

I have endured painful events, but I NEVER allowed myself to admit these events were part of my history. I sought safety in remaining distant from my story. Now in this journey, I need to find my voice.

writing my ending

Brené Brown says that if you own the story, you can write the ending. If you deny the story, the story owns you. The minute you own that story, when you write it down, your brain can see the crazy story spinning in your head and you can change it. She says to choose discomfort over resentment. She also said:

“When I see people stand fully in their truth, or when I see someone fall down, get back up, and say, ‘Damn. That really hurt, but this is important to me and I’m going in again’—my gut reaction is, ‘What a badass.'”

 Brené Brown, Rising Strong: The Reckoning. The Rumble. The Revolution

my goal: badass

So now I’d like to say I’m that badass! But OMG – being a badass is so incredibly not me! But it’s what I want. And that says something because I never wanted it before. Thank God I finally at least want to heal! My husband says I have grit. I don’t feel I do, but I did make it this far. Maybe I do have grit. This is my journey to own my story, to feel my pain, to live my values, and to keep showing up.

Hopefully, my journaling will help me make this story my own. Vocalizing my story out loud seems impossible, but I can begin with writing it.

When I was young, I always prayed for grace and wisdom. I guess I gave up on this somewhere along the way, but perhaps I can still gain these virtues through owning my story.

I choose to share my journal entries with you…in case it helps you write your ending.