I made this blog for myself. My therapist helped to teach me that the best way I process painful events, is through talk therapy. When I experience a traumatic event, or high levels of negative emotions due to circumstance, I can’t just move on, no matter how much time goes by. I feel the emotions I felt, I see the images I saw, I hear the sounds or the words that were spoken, over and over and over again. Up until a few years ago, I labeled this experience “overthinking”. I have been told that’s what I was doing by a dozen or more people in my lifetime, and it honestly made sense. I was thinking, and it was definitely over the “acceptable” amount for most. It wasn’t until I finally sat down with a psychiatrist and described the things that were plaguing me daily that he explained I wasn’t “overthinking” these experiences. I was reliving them. I was having flashbacks. Hearing him say that was confusing to me at first. When I pictured someone having flashbacks, I pictured someone completely blacking out, or going. into a violent rage, or being so overcome with fear they started having a severe panic attack. My mind always jumped to veterans who had experienced the trauma of war, or people who had lived through a disaster or a horrific accident. The experiences I was reliving did not feel like they were “traumatic” or “valid” enough to be classified as that. But as he explained the way chronic post traumatic stress disorder effects the brain and it’s symptoms, it was just so fucking spot on. I had no say in what my brain decided to hold on to. When I would go through these events that caused me deep sorrow or fear, I would be unable to stop myself from dissociating and falling back into the feelings of that moment, and while I dont black out, I do zone out. I check out from the things around me and can see and feel everything, like it was for the first time.
I remember this starting to happen at a more severe and increased level when my 19 year old really started to suffer. Images of moments when we were screaming at each other at the bottom of those wooden stairs, or when they were laying on the hospital bed seizing as the doctors were rushing in, or the venom in their voice as the deepest fear and sadness and anger spilled from their lips, and the words that came with it would randomly flood into my head and my vision would recreate the memory. I recall a moment in group therapy when they shared how confused it would make them when we would be happy spending time together, and then my demeanor would suddenly change and I would make an excuse to get away and be alone. It took me a few seconds as I considered strongly whether to tell them the truth, but since we had been practicing honest communication when we were in a safe setting, I felt like they needed that more than a sugarcoated response.
I told them that they were right. That I was making excuses to get away. That my demeanor was changing, and usually without warning. For a few years, my time with them would often be interrupted with a sudden clip of something that had happened between us, or to them, and no matter how much healing had been done since, my mind would darken. My heart would quickly become surrounded by what felt like barbed wire, and I would close off towards them. I needed to get the images and feelings to stop, and I couldn’t do it when they were near me.

I know that it hurt them, it hurt me too. But they were gracious, and understanding, and after that, they gave me my space as I practiced trying to say I needed it.

I have flashbacks about very different things. Some of them have gotten better, some have gotten much worse.
So, back to the talk therapy. These memories that haunt and invade my thoughts without warning, against my efforts, can be really debilitating towards anything I am trying to accomplish. It’s hard for me to make any progress when my brain is literally keeping me in the past, and it feels impossible that the hurt will ever heal. But I love to write, so naturally I was told by multiple therapists that journaling was going to be my best course of action. It’s not an exaggeration that I have bought and tried to start writing in several dozen journals in the last ten years. But no matter how hard I have tried, it just doesn’t help. For some reason, to make those thoughts fill less of my head space, to feel the relief I seek, someone needs to hear what I have to say. I need to have it be able to be shared. Maybe it’s the fact that I have struggled in the past with knowing whats real, or maybe its that so many people have tried to tell me what I experienced wasn’t something valid enough to share. It honestly doesn’t matter. I know that this works for me, and so thats what I do.

That was more of an explanation to what I am going to try and say than I anticipated on giving, but I am (if you are new to this blog), someone who tends to have a lot to say. I wanted to explain, because I need to get some experiences out of my head and into the void. And when I say some, I mean potentially dozens. This blog is for me, but it’s also public. I have intentionally kept from sharing names, and try to keep this is un-personal towards other people as my own memories and experiences will allow. I’m not trying to destroy anything but my own pain. I am desperate for relief from the film reel that never stops rolling before my eyes. But the things I write about, often do involve other people. And the things I need relief from most, involve one person.
These are my memories. This is my point of view. This is what lives inside my head and my head only. There are always two sides. I promised to write as honestly as possible, and I have done that. There would be no point in trying to lie or fabricate because my only goal is to get rid of the things I write about’s occupancy inside my brain. But, even though it is my truth, and what feels honest to me, I am not claiming this is the correct perception.

I am just claiming that it is mine.

For the next while (I think honestly who knows how I’ll feel even an hour from now), I am going to just write these experiences out, as detailed as I can remember, or feel comfortable sharing. When I see those images in my head, when I hear the sounds and words that have blocked my ability to move forward so many times before, and if i feel like I am ready, I’m just going to write them down from beginning to end. This is my blog. This is what I need. My hope is that being as honest as I can will help me inch closer and closer to the freedom that I desperately am seeking, and possibly help someone else feel relief from the loneliness that darkness can bring.
I wanted to write about an experience that is one of the most realistic flashbacks I struggle with, but honestly I don’t feel like it anymore. I can only write when I need it, and after two cups of coffee and good food, I kind of just want to go home (I’ve been sitting at a cafe typing this out). I need to get it out though, so hopefully when the kids are sleeping tonight, I will feel more able.

For a long time, I’ve wished I could forget. Sometimes, I still do.
But now that I’m awake, I think the only way to stop the cycle, is to remember.