I'm not a noob to the whole blogosphere thing, and there are many bloggers I used to follow and keep up with daily but as I got busy dealing with my ever imploding life I eventually stopped reading them. I used to follow a great blogger who penned Be a Warrior Queen and was the creative force behind Shield Sister Collective, she was super inspiring and one of the sweetest people I had been fortunate enough to meet through blogging. She always shared a lot about self love and acceptance, and while going back and binging on some of her old posts, I started thinking about how I perceive myself.
If you follow along regularly, you know that I suffer from Anxiety and PTSD, steaming from my abusive marriage. I'd like to think that I am the "same ol' me," but the truth is my disorder has changed me. If I am being honest with myself sometimes I struggle with that, but most of all I struggle with who I am with this disorder.
Most people don't really understand what PTSD is or how it can manifest itself through everyday normal things, they just know that it's a mental illness and people with mental illnesses are crazy. The truth is most people don’t understand how PTSD makes even small and mundane things feel like you are trying to run up a very steep hill. A smell, familiar phrase, tone of voice, places, songs and ambient sounds can all trigger you causing your emotions to spiral out of control.
In my marriage my ex-husband controlled all the finances, I wasn’t allowed to have money unless I asked for it and I was often left places with little to no money to my name or forced to go with out things that I needed like tampons because he deemed them an unnecessary expense. I was confronted by that feeling of fear this week when my vital state benefits were randomly stopped. This is the real world consequence of the trauma I suffered. I was faced with an all too familiar feeling, which left me crying myself to sleep and feeling like I was suffocating under the weight of my own life.
So, yes, I guess if you had to put a label on it, "crazy" would work, but my emotional response to things are not random outbursts but extreme depressive episodes where I can't cope with life and they are caused by the trauma I suffered at the hands of somebody who supposedly loved me and promised to protect me. That in and of itself is hard but the worst part is what it does to my self esteem.
I find myself looking around at other people and saying to myself, "why can't I just feel normal?" "Why do I have to feel this way?" Or "why was I given this baggage?" And the answer to that is who the f**k knows, but I'm learning to try to accept it for what it is. We all have our crosses to bear; we all have that something that makes us feel inadequate or less than human.
On most days I'm good. I clean the house. I go grocery shopping. I walk the dog. I cook dinner. Somedays I'm sad and somedays I am total f**king mess. Some days I scream and cry, and sometimes I just sit quietly and hope the world will melt away because I have Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, no, because I am me. Sometimes we are given things in life to carry, and its up to us decide if they are going to weight us down.