I’ve heard it so many times from so many people. They think that I can’t hear them or read the words they write:
“It’s all for attention.”
“Stop with the pity party.”
“Just get over it.”
“The past is in the past.”
On-and-on they go. They think they are helping. On the contrary though, those phrases make it worse. The feeling of being unheard and invalidated is not a feeling I long to have.
You see, what you and they don’t understand is, when I speak it isn’t only for me, it’s for everyone else who has been hurt like me. The worse thing about being the victim of hidden abuses is no one ever wants to believe it happened. Why? Mainly because the people who know you also knew your abusers as “good people”.
The stories victims of hidden abuses tell are not for attention. Most of us will never ever speak, and never free ourselves from the crushing vices that are placed around our lives. We through no choice of our own were children of the “good people” that were so good at fooling everyone.
Writing it out is my therapy now. It is the things I was supposed to work towards in my recovery; being okay with speaking up not fearing what others might think of me. To not be ashamed of what made me, but to embrace it, own it, and to do something with it.
I have always firmly believed that God allows us to have the journey we’ve had to help someone else.
After the life I have lived if I didn’t believe that my suffering was for the better good I wouldn’t be sitting here today telling you my stories. I wouldn’t be sharing my struggles, my victory, my creative healing ways.
These stories are not easy for me to tell. They make me angry and sad. They bring out things in me I didn’t even know I was capable of doing or feeling. I used to feel embarrassment and shame from speaking up about my life, but I’ve grown. I now know and understand that the shame is not mine it is theirs.
So if one day you’re reading this and you read grammatically incorrect (more than it already is) and you feel it’s just incoherent rambling, remember this I’m probably in the middle of a PTSD attack, and have doctors orders to “Yell” at my computer and if it makes me feel better to know that someone is listening hit publish, if not just leave it as a note on my desktop. Either way I can’t yell at my family anymore.
I’m pretty certain if you’re reading this blog it’s because in some way you feel you can relate. That chances are you were searching PTSD or CPTSD (complex PTSD) and found me. Maybe you found me on Instagram. Wherever and however you found me, I believe you are here for a reason. I don’t believe in coincidences.
Welcome to my journey. My online “journal” you might say. It’s real here. I’m me always. I want everyone to know that you are not alone. I thought I was and that this was a waste of my time, but I know it’s not.
When you hear my panic. When you find yourself not understanding what the big deal is. When you can’t understand the way I respond remember this; every action and reaction I have when even the slightest bit upset is because of someone else’s actions in my past…
Thank you to @mylightshinesbright for this comment on my IG today. You have made my day and you encourage me to keep going and to speak more.
Our traumas might not be exactly the same, but trauma is trauma nonetheless.
Stay strong trauma warriors! We can do this! We are not alone! I am here for you!