healing and hope

So this is going to be kind of new for me. Not blogging--I've been blogging since high school (starting with MySpace... yuck, I know). What's new is what I occasionally intend to start blogging about.

A while back I wrote this blog about PTSD that I've been diagnosed with. I've been hesitant to talk about it to anyone because of how personal it is. I also know that lots of people don't know what to say when told about it because it's not something anybody really understands unless they have experienced a similar disorder. It's not a physical illness, but like one it takes time to heal.

It's one of those dark, secret parts of me that I've hidden for most of my life, and I'm tired of it. Part of the healing process is accepting things. It's hard to accept things while hiding them. To me, it just doesn't make sense. People hide things they are ashamed of. In learning to love myself for the first time, I need to express it, not hide it. I don't expect advice or stories from anyone who reads these. I don't even need comments on these blogs. These are for me, because I need things out of my head and out of the dark. That's why I'm publishing them. If you'd like to read them, please do. If you don't want to, then don't. I'm not going to go into details about past issues. This is all about my progress. 

This is looking forward with a smile instead of looking back with tears.

So here's a huge step I'm happy to write about: I told my mom!

After years of hiding and blaming myself for things that were never my fault (which I still do frequently), I've been working on talking about it. The start was talking to my best friend (who is now my husband) about it four years ago. I've told a couple of other friends since then. Before October of last year I could count on one hand the amount of people I'd talked to about those dark corners of my memory. Then I went to see Liz, my therapist, for the first time just a few weeks before I got married. Since then things have gotten better and worse at the same time. Yes, that's possible.

Recently, my parents came out to visit mine and my brothers' families for about a week, and while they were here I wanted to talk to them about it. But I was terrified to do so. For one, I felt that I'd be creating an unnecessary wound that my mother wouldn't need. But a part of me just needs her to know. I need her to understand. I also worried that my dad just wouldn't know what to do or say, and a poor reaction would really hurt. Each time I had an opportunity to talk to them, I chickened out and didn't. Then I'd beat myself up about it later. Bob, the wonderful husband that he is, finally stepped in to help me along. After mom and dad came over to our apartment for breakfast last Friday morning, I still couldn't find the words to say to them. They left to go to my brother's house until they flew out the following morning, and I cried and beat myself up over it. After a brief phone call, Bob gently took me by the hand and helped me into the car, then drove up to my brother and sister-in-law's house. I was just searching for the right moment. I decided that I just wanted to start with my mom. If I could tell her, it would be a huge relief, and she could tell my dad later.

My nephews started playing outside in the back yard, so I followed them out since it was a gorgeous day. Bob came out and played with them while I leaned on the rail that ran around the back deck, watching the boys play in the grass below. My mom came and stood next to me. We talked about nothing for a while, really. Just school and work, the weather, how quiet their house is with all their kids gone and married, etc. I finally started explaining how hard this semester had been on me, that I was seeing a therapist, that I'd dropped all of my classes for the rest of the semester because of this disorder. (I'd wanted to be functional while I healed, but that just wasn't working and I kept avoiding the obvious solution: let healing become my full-time job.)

She still wasn't getting it though, so I explained what causes PTSD and briefly recounted what led to my having it. She cried a little and finally understood. I went on to explain why my actions were the way they were sometimes. For example, when my brother Ben was getting married, I had a serious breakdown and cried uncontrollably at Russ and Ashley's house one night. I'm sure everyone who was there remembers that, and as usual everyone probably assumed that I was being a spoiled brat (since that's what everyone has told me that I am my whole life). But I wasn't. I was struggling with some recent events, flashbacks, and the fact that Bob was on his mission and decided that we needed to stop writing to one another, and the last of my brothers was getting married leaving me the lonely little sister who was damaged more than anybody knew. Nobody knew what I was dealing with, and nobody knew that I actually needed some love and attention--not the unnecessary and spoiled type, but the important and valuable type. Had my mother known why I was crying (or anyone else for that matter), she probably would have been a little more patient and underdstanding with me.

So there's my success for the week. Bob was so proud of me for telling her. I actually felt good about myself too, something I haven't really felt in quite a long time. Even though you may not understand just how liberating that was for me, I hope you can at least be happy for me and the fact that I'm smiling right now--not a forced, fake smile.

This one's real.