I am 30, and it's been 11 years
I've been shaking for weeks.
My wedding anniversary was wonderful. I've been married 8 years. My birthday is a couple weeks after our anniversary. That's when the shaking started, because after my anniversary, I think "it's my birthday soon".
But it's not always super exciting, happy, because when my birthday comes, I think "I am __ this year, and it's been __ years since I was raped." There's no just "it's my birthday!" the rape part follows.
It's not always bad. Every year is different. Some years I am really proud of where I am. Some years, like this year, I am mad, because after 11 years, I am still shaking.
I had to accept that the PTSD will never leave. I get better all the time at handling it, but it will never leave. Lately, even the slightest inconvenience sets it off. I spiral. I panic, and there's nothing I can do about it.
It's the only thing I hate about myself. For a long time, I felt like it was a piece of my ex that he left behind to torment me for the rest of my life, deep down, I know it's just my body's natural response to this trauma. I am ashamed of it, I don't know if I will ever not be.
My first therapist was a social worker. I started seeing her a few weeks after the rape and attempted kidnapping. She told me the hardest, but most important thing anyone has ever told me. "You will deal with the aftermath of this for the rest of your life. With time, you will learn to deal with it better, and the episodes will get farther apart, but this will be a lifelong battle". At the time, I couldn't handle that, so I didn't handle it, and never went back to her. It's nothing she did, I just wasn't ready to face it, and honestly hadn't admitted to myself yet that there was nothing I could have done to stop what happened to me.
I get into this endless limbo, of knowing that my life could be so much harder than it is, and feeling guilty because it is so hard for me anyways.
I was in a car accident 3 years ago this year. It gave me a condition of Occipital Neuralgia. Rare and incurable, gave me excruciating pain every single day and what seemed like an endless migraine. My little boy is non-verbal with autism, and has so many struggles. I couldn't function the last 3 years. Finally, I had a surgery on the back of my head. My nerves were cut out and capped, and after 80+ stitches taken out and permanent numbness on the back of my head, the pain is almost completely gone. I can take care of my little boy better. But having an autistic kid has put me in constant fight or flight mode. What will set him off? How can I help him be okay? and that alone keeps my PTSD at the forefront no matter what.
I fight so hard every day. I fight depression. I fight anxiety. I fight. I won't stop fighting, but that doesn't mean that I will be better. That doesn't mean that every fight will fix something. Sometimes, the fight just keeps me getting out of bed and keeps me going. Sometimes that fight pushes me steps forward to being better, but the fight will never stop, and neither will I.
Most people don't see this part of me. I hide it. I seem happy. I've become an expert at putting on a front, even though my insides rip me apart.
I am never looking for sympathy. I am never looking for apologies. I only wish to convey what others cannot. You never know what is going on inside of someone. You never know what they have had to endure. You couldn't possibly know. Kindness is a phenomenon that literally brings me tears when someone even says one nice thing to me. It's so rare, that this is the effect it has on me.
Everywhere I go with my little boy, I prepare myself. The other day, a father took his kids away from my son at the park, because he didn't know how to respond to my boy, and I just stopped breathing. The act of kindness has changed me, because the piece of me that came from me, that I care about most needs it, too.
Someone coming off angry doesn't mean they are a jerk. Someone looking tired everyday and doing bare minimum doesn't mean they are lazy. Some of us are just surviving because our insides don't work right, and we are fighting just to feel normal.
It's been 11 years. I am strong. I have fought this long. I have a family and a good life. Despite everything around me and everything in me, I am a survivor.
My wedding anniversary was wonderful. I've been married 8 years. My birthday is a couple weeks after our anniversary. That's when the shaking started, because after my anniversary, I think "it's my birthday soon".
But it's not always super exciting, happy, because when my birthday comes, I think "I am __ this year, and it's been __ years since I was raped." There's no just "it's my birthday!" the rape part follows.
It's not always bad. Every year is different. Some years I am really proud of where I am. Some years, like this year, I am mad, because after 11 years, I am still shaking.
I had to accept that the PTSD will never leave. I get better all the time at handling it, but it will never leave. Lately, even the slightest inconvenience sets it off. I spiral. I panic, and there's nothing I can do about it.
It's the only thing I hate about myself. For a long time, I felt like it was a piece of my ex that he left behind to torment me for the rest of my life, deep down, I know it's just my body's natural response to this trauma. I am ashamed of it, I don't know if I will ever not be.
My first therapist was a social worker. I started seeing her a few weeks after the rape and attempted kidnapping. She told me the hardest, but most important thing anyone has ever told me. "You will deal with the aftermath of this for the rest of your life. With time, you will learn to deal with it better, and the episodes will get farther apart, but this will be a lifelong battle". At the time, I couldn't handle that, so I didn't handle it, and never went back to her. It's nothing she did, I just wasn't ready to face it, and honestly hadn't admitted to myself yet that there was nothing I could have done to stop what happened to me.
I get into this endless limbo, of knowing that my life could be so much harder than it is, and feeling guilty because it is so hard for me anyways.
I was in a car accident 3 years ago this year. It gave me a condition of Occipital Neuralgia. Rare and incurable, gave me excruciating pain every single day and what seemed like an endless migraine. My little boy is non-verbal with autism, and has so many struggles. I couldn't function the last 3 years. Finally, I had a surgery on the back of my head. My nerves were cut out and capped, and after 80+ stitches taken out and permanent numbness on the back of my head, the pain is almost completely gone. I can take care of my little boy better. But having an autistic kid has put me in constant fight or flight mode. What will set him off? How can I help him be okay? and that alone keeps my PTSD at the forefront no matter what.
I fight so hard every day. I fight depression. I fight anxiety. I fight. I won't stop fighting, but that doesn't mean that I will be better. That doesn't mean that every fight will fix something. Sometimes, the fight just keeps me getting out of bed and keeps me going. Sometimes that fight pushes me steps forward to being better, but the fight will never stop, and neither will I.
Most people don't see this part of me. I hide it. I seem happy. I've become an expert at putting on a front, even though my insides rip me apart.
I am never looking for sympathy. I am never looking for apologies. I only wish to convey what others cannot. You never know what is going on inside of someone. You never know what they have had to endure. You couldn't possibly know. Kindness is a phenomenon that literally brings me tears when someone even says one nice thing to me. It's so rare, that this is the effect it has on me.
Everywhere I go with my little boy, I prepare myself. The other day, a father took his kids away from my son at the park, because he didn't know how to respond to my boy, and I just stopped breathing. The act of kindness has changed me, because the piece of me that came from me, that I care about most needs it, too.
Someone coming off angry doesn't mean they are a jerk. Someone looking tired everyday and doing bare minimum doesn't mean they are lazy. Some of us are just surviving because our insides don't work right, and we are fighting just to feel normal.
It's been 11 years. I am strong. I have fought this long. I have a family and a good life. Despite everything around me and everything in me, I am a survivor.
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