A big, empty, bottomless ...
... ashen pit. That's what PTSD "looks" like to me. A place with no ladders up on either side, and only sand to grab on to.
What I've begun to learn is that I cannot climb up out of this hole, but that I can be lifted up and out by wings that come in different guises. Including my own desire to move past all the years of wandering lost and hurt towards something resembling a contented life. The kind of life I have to work at finding, because it wasn't handed to me on a platter, silver or not. Or even told by my abusers that it was possible. ("Life is a kick in the teeth" is more the tune of what I heard. Thank God I never really fully bought that stuff and nonsense. There was simply too much evidence in the world to the contrary. I mean, a world where there are dogs and lakes and flowers and babies and laughter and the moon and the uncountable stars? That's WAY better than a kick in the teeth).
As long as I believe this is possible, I have hope. And so long as I have hope, that's the most important thing of all.
May we all be blessed by the touch of hope in these 24 hours. We all deserve it.:clap: Our lives have been too much hell already.
peace,
blueskies