I am fragile and strong.

butterfly glassThe body remembers. The mind remembers. PTSD is not about what is wrong with us but what happened to us. It is not a sign of weakness but one of strength because it shows we have survived. It shows that I have survived.

However, sometimes suffering is just suffering. It doesn’t make us stronger. It doesn’t build our character. It just hurts.

My thoughts have me trapped. I am tired of this emotional pain. I want to take a sleeping tablet and sleep all day. I want to sleep so that I do not feel. I am finding it impossible to get out of bed.

I am suffocating. I am haunted by monsters that I can feel but not see. My own mind is scaring me.  I am unable to get rid of my demons.

They are always there, the demons. Sometimes they are sleeping but they are always there. They turn my dreams into nightmares. They turn my fears into triggers. They turn my light into dark. They haunt me every day. My abusers haunt me every day.

It is what PTSD does; haunts us. We cannot just get over it. It is a part of us. Always there.

One day I can be perfectly fine, maybe even “normal”. The next I begin to slip, unnoticed, back to that dark place where I start to fall apart.

I feel lost. I feel far away, unsure where I am but at the same time knowing I am not in this world. I look in the mirror and I do not know the person staring back at me. I feel empty. I feel nothing. Yet at the same time emptiness feels so heavy.

The knife glides across my arm. One time, two times, three times, four. Blood drips, then pain and then relief hit me. I can feel. I am here, back in this world.

However I am afraid. What if I am this way forever? What if I can never forget?

A memory, a detail, a sound or a smell. What if my memories never disappear? What if they stalk me forever, appearing when I least expect it?

Each new memory brings a new trigger, a new flashback, a new demon. I don’t want to remember anymore but I just can’t forget.

To the outside world I am living. I work, I laugh, I smile, I am “normal”….but I am more broken than you think.

Trauma kills us whilst allowing us to live. Sometimes the healing hurts more than any wound. The healing of wounds and scars we cannot see is deeper and more hurtful than any wound we can see.

Yes I work, I laugh, I smile, but today I am hurting. Today the sadness hits me and the pain of the trauma, of the abuse, breaks me.

The demons takeover and the memories creep in. I am scared. I am tired. I am broken.

Yet tomorrow I will stand again because, just like glass, I am fragile but strong. I will continue moving forward and continue on this journey.

I will keep fighting. I will keep talking. I will speak and find my voice once more.

For my abusers stole my childhood, they stole my life, but piece by piece I am slowing taking it back.

Yes today I may be fragile but tomorrow I will be strong!

Thanks for reading.

**Images courtesy of Google Images**

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