My first blog
I’ve been tossing the idea for a couple of years in my (will get into a couple of reasons why I have the tendency to be indecisive). With no one to really express myself to, and all the mental health providers seem to be overflown with COVID mental issues, here I am.
Having severe PTSD (Post-traumatic stress disorder) my ability to focus is horrible. A good example is now I currently have seven web pages open maybe three are related topics at best. Being a Saturday night the neighbors behind me are playing music loud enough for the entire state I now have the bassline of the songs playing in my head.
Approaching my fiftieth birthday I realized something had to change. For so many years I’ve lived in a constant state of anxiety, anger, and depression. Constantly worried of pretty much everything. Did I make so and so happy? Did I do that task at work perfectly? Why can’t I make him love me? Did the hard worked cooked meal for the holidays for family members I don’t even like taste good?
I always felt that I could look up open my mouth and shoot flames that could reach the sun. I had this constant anger and did not understand why.
It took my first and only really bad marriage to get to where I am now. Prior to the marriage I was spiraling down emotionally felt like I wasn’t making any of the right decisions. For one my marriage. I married my now thirty-something-year-old son's father who had been home from a twenty-four-year prison bid for murder. In which he and I only communicated a handful of times during that entire twenty-four years. I got pregnant young, and he was too young to stay I was sixteen and he was seventeen. In hindsight, I understood why he didn’t want anything to do with his son prior to going to prison. I’m not saying he was right, but I understand.
After a very short marriage to him (we were separated under 90 days), I ended up moving to the south. Once I got here I had very little money and was in the process of filing for bankruptcy. Ending living in a hotel for five months I realized I’d hit rock bottom.
Looking for any type of help and or resources. I ran into a local nonprofit organization at a local church. During the intake process, I was asked had I even been molested as a child and would I like free therapy. Being that free is for me, I shrugged my shoulders and said yes.
I was reluctant at first being that I was brought up NOT to see any type of mental health person. I figure since I really didn’t have anything to lose why not give it a shot.
The nonprofit place which I was sent to was specifically tailored to sexual abuse and sexual assault victims adult and children. I was given two options: Start my first six weeks of therapy in a group setting and then receive an individual therapist or wait on a much longer waitlist for individual therapy with group therapy.
I picked group therapy in order to speed the process up. I honestly didn’t know what to expect.
I was the third female to arrive, six of us total all within my age range. We introduced ourselves to each other and were told we can volunteer as much personal information as we were comfortable with. I didn’t say much.
We were handed out a pamphlet with a list of signs of trauma from sexual abuse. There it was… a life of my life
· Indecisive: I mean everything it would take me up to an hour at times to pick out a pair of sweat clothes to run errands … most of my sweats are black
· Constant anxiety: anxious about everything even things that I couldn’t have possibly controlled like the weather
· Depression: I would get off of work Friday and would have my dark curtains closed and would not leave my house until Monday for work. Yes, I prepared in advance (food shopping and toiletries) on Thursday
· Loneliness: not feeling worthy, constantly seeking approval
· Anger: those fucking trauma responses to everyday life at times were shameful, to say the least
· Bad relationships: EVERY I mean EVERY relationship I’ve had in the past were bad one way or another
· Mental blocks: I vaguely remember my childhood and really don’t have too many good ones.
A cold rush came over my body and it felt as if every ounce of blood left my face. My chest felt like someone sat on it.
Immediately after that came the anger and resentment. Of no fault of my own many bad decisions were made due to trauma. I was miserable my entire existence that I can remember. To date, I still haven’t forgiven my parents and to be honest, have absolutely no intentions to.