I have been self isolating (partly because of Covid and partly because I’m battling little fires around me while my house is figuratively ablaze). I’m rejecting connections because the thought of losing those I love has become a profound, nearly panicked, state of mind.
My C-PTSD has been triggered. I’ve not been sleeping well. I feel mistrust frequently, off-balanced mostly, and hyper-vigilant with a sense of detachment so I can survive the myriad of catastrophes that are cascading.
It is no secret that I’ve been struggling to make sense of a world that seems to be so dark as of late. One of the things that’s made it so upsetting is my perceived invisibility; my lack of voice. I feel like I’m burdening people who ask me how I’m doing because, as a human, I know I’m not alone with the struggles. But, trauma brain teaches how to survive, not always what is true.
Now, you may say, even out loud, “But I see you!” Not necessarily. I’ve been keeping a lot to myself because I don’t trust the world at this time. I don’t want to be a pest. I don’t want to be pitied. I don’t want to commiserate. I don’t want to be told things like: It will get better. It will be okay. There are brighter days ahead. You’re so strong or brave or something else because it’s not my truth right now. I am not able to hear it. Those things don’t reflect the world I see or how I’m experiencing it right now.
I deserve to feel vulnerable. I can doubt the sunshine even as I experience it. I can be weak. I can have doubts. I don’t have to believe in a happy ever after that just won’t happen right now. I am allowed to feel how I feel without apologies even if you don’t understand. I don’t need to be fixed. I’m not broken. I’m human. Right now I’m a gross mess of conflicting anger, sobbing, spontaneous laughter, and raw guts walking around on two legs that are wobbly from exhaustion because of abysmal grief from major events of the year.
I love you. I love me. I am not giving up or giving in. I just need to breathe. That’s really hard right now but eventually I’ll rise to the surface again where I will be able to. Thank you for being everything that you are because without you, I wouldn’t be able to survive or once again thrive.
Don’t give up on me, please. Please trust me. This isn’t my first rodeo by a long shot. I’ve survived worse than this. I know I will eventually find joy again. I may even rediscover faith, but until I do, knowing you’re out there rooting for me is so very precious.