I feel like this belongs here, even though I do not. This board was here when I needed it, and although my time here was brief, I learned a lot about myself. I was able to share a few things with you anonymous internet people that I have never told another living soul and it felt good. Through that process I came to a few realizations about the things that matter to me.
I still have the nightmares. I don’t deal well with crowds. I am wary of strangers and slow to trust new people. 99 out of 100 times my dogs are going to be more important to me than the people I know. Oh well. It doesn’t matter. I’m alive when I shouldn’t be, whole when I couldn’t be and sane when I needn’t be.
Every day is a fight. A fight to get up, a fight to go to a job that I hate, a fight to play nice with other people. But you know what I have figured out about myself? I like to fight. Every time I bite my lip and “suck it up” it isn’t a reminder of my weakness, it’s a testament to my strength. My shoulder hurts where there was shrapnel in it. My wrist hurts where my father broke it. My head hurts when I think about how other people get to go through their days without triggers. I forget about all of it when I can focus on the fight. The struggle. It feels good to exert my willpower.
I have intrusive thoughts, repulsive memories and very little peace. I banish the thoughts and change the channel on the memories. I could be on medicine but I am not by choice and that is working out for me just fine. Every day is no better or worse than the last one, but I have built up a kind of callous to it, and it’s only getting thicker with time. I am only getting stronger with time.
There is hope for all of us.
I still have the nightmares. I don’t deal well with crowds. I am wary of strangers and slow to trust new people. 99 out of 100 times my dogs are going to be more important to me than the people I know. Oh well. It doesn’t matter. I’m alive when I shouldn’t be, whole when I couldn’t be and sane when I needn’t be.
Every day is a fight. A fight to get up, a fight to go to a job that I hate, a fight to play nice with other people. But you know what I have figured out about myself? I like to fight. Every time I bite my lip and “suck it up” it isn’t a reminder of my weakness, it’s a testament to my strength. My shoulder hurts where there was shrapnel in it. My wrist hurts where my father broke it. My head hurts when I think about how other people get to go through their days without triggers. I forget about all of it when I can focus on the fight. The struggle. It feels good to exert my willpower.
I have intrusive thoughts, repulsive memories and very little peace. I banish the thoughts and change the channel on the memories. I could be on medicine but I am not by choice and that is working out for me just fine. Every day is no better or worse than the last one, but I have built up a kind of callous to it, and it’s only getting thicker with time. I am only getting stronger with time.
There is hope for all of us.
