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But…In The Meantime….

… in the meantime I will make posts.

That sentence should be the last line for this post but I thought I would start off with it because it has been a long time since I’ve posted on this blog. For the past two years or so I have been focusing on my therapy and my healing. I realized while I was posting that I was triggering myself and decided to cease posting until I brought myself to a stage where I can write and not be triggered. Therapy has been a necessary tool for me on this journey as I have found that while I’m in therapy, a great deal of my symptoms are easier to deal with. I started off this blog by saying “in the meantime” because right now I am on a waiting list to get my next round of therapy and it is quite irritating. It is irritating because while I am waiting on the waitlist…in the meantime what do I do? In the meantime while I am not in therapy, I find that my PTSD symptoms begin to slowly slide back into my mind and body all over again. It is irritating because one has to ask themselves how many more times can I go through this? If therapy really does work (and I can say it is very helpful) then what happens when we’re not in therapy? Yes, therapy does give you the tools to learn how to cope with the symptoms that are attached to PTSD but it is definitely easier when you are attending groups and sessions with other people having discussions about this subject. However, that support system clearly cannot be there 24 hours a day therefore forcing you to learn how to become your own support system.

The timing of this couldn’t be worse because I am going through a milestone right now and I will be experiencing many other milestones in the near future. You see, my daughter is now 8 years old and will be turning 9 pretty soon. It was at the innocent age of eight years old that my grandfather began molesting me and began his grooming process. When I look at my daughter and see how young she is; and see how small she is; and see how she processes things, it sort of drives me crazy to think that this is what I looked like when my nightmare began. Once this thought comes to mind then it suddenly opens the floodgates. After that thought, you cannot help but to ask yourself “how could he have even contemplated to do what he did to me?” My mind then goes to the next thing; “he groomed me for two years before he decided I was old enough to be raped…” and so on and so on…until I catch myself and put a sudden stop to the madness that crawled into my mind. No matter how hard I try not to think about it or not to go there, it just seems to happen. PTSD will not allow the trauma from these experiences to go away. I have the amazing ability of being mindful of what I think about. I am vigilant when it comes to self-awareness and monitoring one’s thinking; yet the one thing in my life that I seem to have very little control of, are the moments where I’m taken back to spending weekends with my grandfather. I have to view the pictures  in my mind that are reminding me what took place when he was supposed to be caring for me. I cannot begin to describe to you what that feels like because if I were to use words to explain that moment of a flashback, the words would absolutely betray me. I wish there was a magic pill for this condition because I would take it in a heartbeat.

As I have said many times before, I have come to accept the fact that this is my life that I may always have to deal with the symptoms of PTSD at least until my daughter becomes an adult then it may become a little less triggering to me. The truth is, even though I get triggered by witnessing my daughter growing up, I am grateful for her. I am grateful because without her coming into this world the trauma that was buried within my body and mind would have still been buried. The toxic emotional, psychological, physical and mental baggage that goes undetected, still contributes to your life even though it has yet to surface. Until my daughter came along, I was not able to see how the buried baggage was influencing the way I saw the world; how I saw people; it influenced how I made choices and prevented me from understanding the one thing that we all live to understand better, which is ourself. I have learned to accept that my healing process will be a life-long journey and I am still working on being okay with that. How will I know that I am okay with it? I think when I can stop becoming angry at the fact that I have to try so hard to include this part of my childhood into my life. I cannot cut it out. I cannot forget about it and I cannot pretend that my weekends for six years was spent being sexually abused by my paternal grandfather. My PTSD is an inconvenienc; one that must be okay with eventually…in the meantime…I will just keep putting one foot in front of the other; step by step and keep posting.

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