the truth about PTSD

Note: This post took me an entire afternoon to write, despite that it usually only takes me under an hour to write a post. Talking about this is hard to put into words.

To an extent, everyone is permanently traumatized by something. Maybe you got bit by a snake when you were little and now you have a completely crippling fear of snakes. Seeing snakes makes your skin crawl and the fear floods through your blood stream. Early childhood trauma can scar someone for life and may trigger other mental disorders later in life (this is usually one of the foundations of schizophrenia and most dissociative disorders and even some mood disorders).

This is PTSD.

Post traumatic stress disorder (also commonly known as PTSD) affects 7.8% of the US population at some point in their lives, with it being more common in women than men. That’s roughly 15 million people per year. And I am part of this statistic. Let me tell you about it.

So yeah, I have some childhood trauma. My parents separated when I was 4 or 5 and my dad was never a large part of my life. I didn’t realize until semi-recently that I was a “stay together for the kids” child. But I guess that didn’t work out, clearly. My childhood memories are still foggy as I’ve tried to piece it together over the past couple years. This block in my memory lead to the development of my alternate personalities. They hold the memories that they think will hurt me. Then there’s the several events that have happened to me over the past year. After those 7 months of emotional abuse… I finally realized how damaged and traumatized I am from it.

Forming relationships with people has been close to impossible. I can’t be myself around anyone for fear of rejection. I lost myself in that relationship. I tried so hard to please him in all aspects of our relationship, but I was just never good enough for anything except for being his personal sex slave. To be honest, I can’t have sex anymore. Any sights, smells, small phrases, or anything that reminds me of our relationship makes me scared. It’s my trigger. And then I run away and am replaced with Alice. No one wants to be around her. She has ruined every relationship I’ve tried to make work for fear of me getting hurt again. But you know what really hurts? The ruin she leaves me in.

We sat in silence this morning after an Alice episode the night before that ended poorly. The silence was screaming in my head. I sat there, thinking, wondering, hoping.. Hoping this wasn’t another ending because of her. Because of my inability to move on. Because of all the scattered and torn apart pieces of my head.

I can’t change what happened. If I knew then what I knew now, I never would have gotten involved with Sociopath in the first place. There are so many “what if”s, but all I can do is do my best to move on. I hope that one day I won’t need Alice or Isabella or any of the other personalities to deal with somewhat normal situations. Maybe one day I can be strong enough to acknowledge the past and accept that it’s the past. To move on. To be able to connect with people intimately again. To trust. To be vulnerable.

Trauma has turned me into the alcoholic that I am. Trauma stole my identity. It stripped me of my ability to control myself. It has made me need to disassociate from every triggering event. The need to run.

But for now, I can only apologize, accept that I’m human, and accept that I’m imperfect.

I still want to be here.

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