There is no getting used to some PTSD symptoms is there?
Nightmares and the resulting body memories particularly right now. I am thankful that my symptoms have improved greatly over the last year or so. As we move away from disclosure and into feeling and telling “my story” the PTSD symptoms are up and down. Last week, very much up, this week, until today, not so bad.
Last night was my first nightmare in a couple of weeks. I am glad about that. Once I was plagued by nightmares every time I went to sleep.
One nightmare about my abuser is still too many. Waking up next to my husband and fearing, just for a second, he is my abuser, is one second too many. Terror. Utter terror.
Why does terror make me feel weak and embarrassed? I am still so afraid of what he did. I hate that. Afraid of my own memories, scared in my own skin.
All those abuse survivors, living that way right now- the millions- it breaks my heart. The recent news estimated 1400 victims of abuse at the hands of a group of men in Rotherham- I cannot get them out of my head. What they must be going through still 😦
The abuse may end, but the effects do not. They were failed, we were failed. I was failed. And I continue to live with what was done to me.
I rejoined Facebook recently and while not intended, I am back to sharing things I am sure most of my Facebook friends would rather not know. Nothing about the abuse- but how I am feeling and how I am coping. The last few days I have had an inner battle where I have wondered if it was a mistake to go back on Facebook. I know I irritate people, people have actually blocked me because of the things I post.
This morning, once I calmed down from the nightmare and possibly even as a result of the nightmare, I decided that if everyone on Facebook wants to block me, then so be it. It says a lot about them.
Why should I be quiet about this? People need to know the devastation of abuse. They need to know that is does not end when the abuse ends. Everyone should know that turning a blind eye hands that person a life sentence. My family and friends need to know what I go through. I’ve hidden it for far too long. I have protected them and suffered endlessly for it as a result.
The abuse has to stop. I cannot leave it to other people. So I won’t shut up and if you don’t like it then don’t read it.
I cannot understand the resentment towards me, I am hated because I was abused, hated because I am surviving, hated because I refuse to be silent. Why hate me? Hate the men that violated me. Haven’t I been hurt enough?
I know some of what I say and do is a reminder to those that have also been abused. I am a trigger and while I am sorry for their experiences, I will not apologise for being me. I am careful about what I write, I am mindful that I can trigger others, but I won’t keep my feelings to myself just to make other people comfortable. I did not ask for this, I did not choose this life.
If you need to hate me for that, then go ahead. I am not stopping. I am who I am and I feel what I feel.