I’ve had many panic attacks these past two weeks. I can’t sleep. I can’t be funny, no matter how hard I try. I’m lashing out constantly. I’m not letting myself drink because I have an incredibly addictive personality and I’m afraid of myself. I don’t feel much but anger right now.
When you grow up fucked up, you grow up thinking, “If I can get through this, then tomorrow is another day.” Everything is a battle. Every day, every job, every hour is filled with, “just survive and everything will be better afterwards.”
Every. Fucking. Day.
Being in survival mode for so long creates a distorted reality in your mind. If something is good now, it won’t be for long. For so long I’ve felt like the end of everything I know and love is just around the corner. Living this way, you miss so much of life and love and happiness because all you can think about is surviving where you are.
And I’m so tired of it.
I’m tired of being the victim of a long-held memory. I’m tired of replaying the events in my head over and over and over again. I’m tired of hurting other people because I’m hurting so badly.
So I walked into therapy with my head held high and my heart trying to run away. I fell apart in my intake session because I’m such a fucking mess.
Every Monday morning, I argue with myself in the shower about whether or not I’m actually going to go back to therapy this week.
And every Monday morning, I go.
I fill out a questionnaire about how crazy I am every single time. I talk to the tremendibitch receptionist every time. I complete my god-awful assignments every time and work so very hard to do what’s asked of me every time because one day, it’s not going to be so hard.
I’m no longer fighting every day to survive. I’m fighting to live for the sake of living itself.
One day, I’m not going to feel like this anymore.
One day, I’ll be able to think about what happened without triggering the want to be violent.
One day, I’m going to feel like I’m enough.
I started therapy for PTSD several weeks ago, and I’m in a very bad place right now. Therapy for PTSD means reliving in every terrible detail the awful things that happened, talking about them every day, and dredging up years of memories that have been purposely suppressed. It’s terrible, but after living with this bullshit for so long, I can’t wait to feel better again.
If you are hurting, ask for help. There is no shame in saying, “I need a hand. I need someone to talk to. I hate everything and I don’t want to anymore.” Ask a friend, a parent, a husband or wife, a therapist, or a dog–it doesn’t matter. The act of asking for help is your first step towards taking back control of you.
What keeps y’all going every day? Everyone has a story, everyone has their battles, so what gets you through the days?– Favorite Comment From The Last Post: From Nadine: “I go anywhere based upon the availability of a lazy river. Worth the admission to a water park where I don’t go on any other rides at all.”