PTSD - My Own Personal Human Bondage

I may not have gone to war to have the traumatic effects of PTSD, but I do have the emotional capacity to be a bit broken down by them. My life started out dramatically to two parents who never really gave a shit of whether I lived or died. I am uncertain if they truly didn’t care or if they were too selfish to see past their own needs. I was forced off on relatives to care for me. My grandfather was one of the gentlest souls I have ever encountered in my life. My grandmother was a polar opposite of him. She was cruel and harsh. I was raised in a god fearing home. I learned early on not to speak unless spoken to. I learned how to conceal all emotions for fear of what was to come if I was either happy or sad. If I was happy, there was something evil that I was doing to be that way. If I was sad, there was no reason to be, because I have everything that should make me happy. I hated when she would dress my hair. If I didn’t sit perfectly still, she would pull it until it would come out in her hands. On occasion she would drag me across a room by my hair. There were times when the belt would come out that I wondered if she would ever quit hitting me. I prayed for escape. I prayed that the people who gave me life would love me enough to come rescue me. My prayers went unanswered for over 15 years. In the end either God did not exist for me or else he didn’t care, because there was something evil inside of me. After 15 years of mental and physical abuse, my abuser died a horrible yet fitting death. I was horrified at her passing, not because she was gone, but because I was relieved that she was gone. What kind of person was I to be glad that she was dead? Did that truly make me into an evil monster that she thought of me? Over the next 15 years of my life, out of guilt I think, I picked up where she left off. I never harmed myself physically, but mentally I abused myself. I didn’t care if I lived or died, because no one would notice if I was gone. I would tell myself that I could never do anything right and I would fail at anything that I did. I have used the term underachiever, but I believe that is a lie I tell myself. I have self sabotaged every aspect of my life. I have run people off before they have the chance to love me and seriously hurt me. How could I allow anyone to get close to me, when those who were meant to love me more than life itself never gave a damn? At nearly 37 years old I still huddle in a corner when people act aggressively around me. There are still the moments when the self abuse comes to light and it is typically when things don’t go the way I wish them to. I wish there was a switch that I could turn off to get through everything negative that has happened in my life, but I am not foolish enough to believe that. I know it will take work and time. It is something that I need, but more importantly my children need. I need to be the example of a strong and thriving woman for my daughter so she can become one also. Will I ever get past the abuse both mental and physical? I don't know, but I will not quit until there is no breath left in my body.

Saving the World: One Post at a Time

As a child I dreamed of saving the world. I thought that I would enter the peace corp and try to make a difference on a grand scale. After years of mental, physical, and sexual abuse, my drive to make a difference was depleted. I think I entered a self preservation mode for many years. How could I help others when I could barely get out of bed myself? In life I settled for the simple and whatever would keep my demons quiet. On the show Buffy: The Vampire Slayer there was an evil that wanted to rise up. The statement from that was: "From within it devours." That statement has stuck with me for years now. For me it has a significant meaning. My depression eats me from the inside out. Over the years I settled to become a special needs mom and battle the daily struggles my children face. If you are wonder why I say settled, I will tell you. This was not the grand scheme I envisioned for myself. Fighting for my children and their successes comes as natural as breathing. I still dream of making a difference in the lives of others. When I am dead I want to be remembered as the one who tried to make a difference in the lives of those I encountered. Through the abuse I came out stronger and more determined than I ever dreamed to be. I have the ability to help others by telling my stories and getting them out there for the world to see. If through me another finds an ounce of strength that they were lacking then I have accomplished something. At this stage in life I refuse to allow self sabotage to come into play. I plan to save those I can one post at a time.

Prolonging My Torment

“Hope in reality is the worst of all evils because it prolongs the torments of man.” ― Friedrich Nietzsche 

When I think of hope I think of the myth of Pandora. She was sent to the Titan, Prometheus, as a punishment for man's theft of fire from the gods. How could a mere woman be a form of punishment? The gods blessed her with a box and told her to never open it. When she was created, an insatiable amount of curiosity was instilled in her. Her curiosity won out one day and she opened the box. She unleashed all the evils in the world. In a panic she closed the box, but left one item remaining inside. This object was hope.

Many days of late I feel the weight of the world on me and it seems every day there is a new roadblock preventing me from getting out of the rut I am in. Once a day I am tempted to throw my hands in the air and say, "I quit. I can't do this anymore." Then I remember that I am a cape wearing super mom and quitting is not an option. Every day I find a way to reopen my Pandora's box and see the hope that still resides inside. How easy it would be to quit and to say the hell with it all, but I then remember that I am not a quitter. I am a cape wearing special needs super mom. I did not survive years of mental and physical abuse to just roll over and die when things get hard. I am a fighter. I will continue to fight for me and mine until the last breath leaves my body.