Sojourner of the soul.

Leeshee

New Here
Since I was a child, I’ve wrote in diaries on occasion. I still have them all, even at 32. I have never had a specific trauma diary tho. The concept had never even occurred to me before. I haven’t regularly journaled since I was a teen and I definitely want to get in the habit again outside of this. A trauma diary though is something entirely different then casual journaling. So, this will be an interesting and perhaps, enlightening challenge. Although, if I’m truly honest with myself, I usually only journaled when I was upset or miserable.

My preteen/early teens diary is much easier to read then the stuff later in my life. Which is so strange because I was recovering from a profound trauma then and mostly depressed at least when I was at school being bullied. I remember back when I was 12- barely 15 with that particular journal thing were a bit rough, but I had my friends, my video games, my fandoms, my books... That really took a lot of the edge off. Despite the trauma and undiagnosed PTSD and depression, I was still generally ok because of that escape and the people who loved and cared for me. I’m grateful for that. But to my greatest unexpected misfortune most of that would crumble away right before I turned 16 and that’s when the real darkness set in.

my identity shattered, my beloved friends mostly gone, my mind in shambles. The stigma overwhelming and suffocating. 16-18 were the lonely years of my life and some of the most painful. Misdiagnosed and disgustingly overmedicated on outdated psyche meds. I could barely think, let alone function. Despite my mom’s hidden twisted inner machinations, for the most part she meant well and tried to help. But it was 2004 and not the best time for psychiatric medication in terms of effectiveness and possible brain damage. Certainly not the worst time either, but those drugs were harsh on 16 year old girl who would later find out she had mild bipolar/PTSD/Clinical depression not something as demonized as schizoaffective disorder.

I tried so hard to fight the lulling escapism of the time, myspace and xanga. Very addictive to a veritable castaway of a teenage girl. And music, music was everything. I literally got existentially lost in Elliot smith and Lisa Germano lyrics. I couldn’t handle the bad kid highschool in community college routine and the discipline required. Although I certainly tried. But I was more obsessed with early 2000’s counterculture. What a strange time.

I remember a year before the psych meds.

15

what a time, I tried so hard to reinvent myself as a freshmen in a new highschool. I became kinda popular much to my detriment and got a wild high from it. Not seeing it for the superficially that it was. I failed nearly all my classes and was at school maybe half the time. The other half I was skipping in the cemetery beside my house. Skateboarding, playing my acoustic guitar, and writing bad poetry. I felt so alive! And also ashamed of how shit my grades were. But I reasoned if I wasn’t there and I got bad grades, it was because of my absence, not stupidly. So naturally I skipped all the time and told my newfound friends wild lies about where I was to sound cool. Cooler then I actually was.

“oh I was out partying with some older guys having sex! I joined a gang!” (In reality no such gang existed and I was still a virgin)

one of biggest problems I was having trouble hiding at the time, was I couldn’t sleep. And the less I slept the less I could focus in class. The less I could stay sane.

my only real friend at the time was pretty concerned and angry with me.

but I didn’t even understand why I was being so self destructive

why I couldn’t sleep

I didn’t have a smart phone (too old, it’s 2003-04) or computer access late at night on school days

but I just couldn’t stop thinking a thousand miles a minute

about how cool I suddenly was

and everybody loved this weird art/goth/punk girl

I was no poser

I was Winona Ryder meets the breakfast club shaken not stirred but never polite

a melancholic vampire, a trail of blood in freshly fallen snow

I was AFI scream your heart out with guest appearances from the ramones

I was...reacting very poorly to my prescribed adderal but didn’t know it then

ALL I KNEW WAS I WAS ALIVE AND I WANTED TO BE LOVED BY EVERYONE

but I was slowly falling apart, chipping away like the eroded seabed in some god forsaken island

AND THEN 16 HIT ME STRAIGHT ACROSS THE HEAD AND BROKE MY SKULL
 

Leeshee

New Here
Thanks! I’m trying to write creatively about my trauma and past self with some humor. My journals before were usually about what happened on whatever day, not trauma specific.
 
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