4 Letters that Should be a Curse Word

I never wanted my son to live in a broken household, but I realized that it was long broken and shattered way before I had ever left and then ultimately became divorced. It got to the point finally where I had gotten so used to the abuse and taught myself to cry silently so as to avoid being laughed at. He stood over me as my body would shake as hyperventilation kicked in making me curl me up into a fetal position cradling myself in a ball on the bathroom tile.
Eventually he would come in pulling me to my feet but I would still be trembling from holding back more tears, and the shocks the panic attack sent shooting throughout my entire body (which after his laughing hug and condescending pat on the head he would become turned on disgustingly enough).

PTSD is an arduous journey as something seemingly small can trigger a debilitating trauma that causes your entire being to feel like it’s happening again vividly right now, or perhaps only a day or week ago.
The wounds are never cauterized so frequently they can be reopened and feel so fresh like no time ever passed.  

It seems to make you feel forever dinged because at the snap of a finger no matter how great you are doing a complete mental and physical shut down can happen with just the blink of an eye.

It is NOT permanent though… I remind myself of this daily.

It just takes insight and constant work so that every time it happens you can acknowledge it and pick yourself up before the downward spiral sends you so far under that keeping your head afloat becomes an excruciatingly difficult task. The best description is the feeling of suffocation… like you are drowning only there is no life-vest or rescue boat in sight. I refuse to let my head go under the water.
No.
Learning to heal and not let this darkness overtake you is one of the hardest things to manage. Living in survival mode constantly it’s almost unfathomable to relax as in the back of your mind you are waiting for the other shoe to drop since you never knew where/when your next trigger could be lurking around the corner.

From what I have seen many do not want to speak out about it either, so very much remains hidden not just from the public but even from those closest to you like friends and family. If you do confide in them and they make the effort to understand the hell you are going though then trust me my dear friends that despite every setback you are incredibly lucky.

Until I truly heal I will continue wishing upon every shooting star with all my heart to not fall down again. They say even the best fall apart sometimes… And I’ve learned that is nothing to be ashamed of!

This is a battle where you win some and you lose some, But you Never Ever give up until the War is won!
Victors Not Victims!

PTSD Irony…

Lately some of the unfortunate incidences in my life have been plaguing me. Sucking my soul dry like a leech that I cannot seem to detach.
Sometimes I wonder if people who have not had trauma resulting in PTSD can understand what it is truly like to live with this condition.
On any given day or week you can feel completely grounded, humbled, and strangely at peace with life and the past. It stops haunting you and the noose around your neck releases hanging there unused like an empty pinata’ leftover from a party. Only it’s not empty- it may look like that to the outside world but there are different hidden compartments inside. Compartments that can easily spill open wide exploding with all the pain you hoped was gone.

~More of my story~

The couple of months after I was raped I started getting very involved in my photography work as a means of distraction from what had just happened. My photography is my soul. Captured memories from fleeting moments that otherwise would be forgotten. My new crisis entailed a route of moving from my house I had owned into a small apartment in a very safe secluded area. I could not be in that house not even a minute longer then I needed to get my stuff out. I was a homeowner with my parents help and our monies pooled together I owned my own home. Finally! I had left my ex-husbands house and wanted nothing of it- even the 50% equity FL state gives the wife. I didn’t want anything only to be free from him after being held captive for so long. Was I hung up with chains holding me against the walls? No- although those would have been easier to break free from. Fleeing seemed to work as a solution just like now with the new apartment in an effort to replace where I would attempt sleep from where I woke up that morning.

To anyone familiar with the tv show “The Walking Dead” it was exactly like the opening scene where the main character wakes up to see vast destruction everywhere, and his world as he knew it was forever changed. That is an exact description of what it was like for me (minus the zombies of course.) waking up with no memory to a life that would never be the same.

So I was hired by an amazing man I’d previously met at an event I photographed for a local group called “Creative Minds”. He was starting up his own local magazine and a photographer was needed so since we had become friends almost immediately he hired me. The first event I was to photograph was a Q&A circle for the first showing of an independent film debuting at the Sarasota Film Festival. We were given complimentary tickets to watch the show (press passes) so we rushed into the theater and sat down. I quickly ask “What movie is it Aaron?” He says “Little Miss Brave World”. How very exciting getting to see a first showing of an up and coming feature documentary film! 5 minutes later the film starts and immediately the words RAPE and ABUSE flash out on the screen starting the story of this amazing documentary. BAM. Undeniable coincidence…?
I hadn’t compartmentalized that I was raped yet I was just masking it with other things, but then here it was right in front of me.

Tears silently rolled down my face almost instantly. I became breathless trying to control the sobs from my stomach. I wanted to immediately run out of the theater feeling like an imaginary spotlight was on me making it obvious to the full room that I had been raped too. Had I known what the movie was about I wouldn’t have gone. Then the Q&A for the “Miss Brave World” started…

The Producer of the movie asked all of us in the room to raise their hands if they have ever been sexually abused/attacked.
Surprisingly enough out of the near 30 people in that room 28 hands went up. And it wasn’t only women.
That shocked me even more to see men openly admit to being raped or molested describing stories even in their adulthood.

Here I am doing my best to stuff away those events by focusing on my photography not allowing myself go back to that horrific place…. Then SMACK it’s right in front of my face again. Subconciously I start begging to instantly sucked back up in my own thick shell of believed safety where I retreat from the outside world mentally and physically.
Sometimes being Big, Strong, and Brave doesn’t feel like an option. Unfortunately surviving can come with a big price-tag to pay. Most of us are just trying to get out of bed, take care of basic responsibilities, and function as best we can. Survival of the fittest takes on an entirely different meaning.

I spent so much time doing my best to again try to not think of all that happened and then shortly afterwards I got the opportunity to photograph an after party from that film festival when it happens again BUT so much worse. I see “HIM” across the room…..

He stares at me open mouthed like I was a pin pulled out of a grenade. Someone walked in front of our gaze and when I looked back in that second he was gone. Clearly he was afraid I would call the cops or have to face whatever I could muster saying to him. He ran away from that party with the accelerated speed of guilt and fear. In a split second our eyes met and 2 seconds later I looked everywhere even running outside and he was gone without a trace.

• What would I had said to him is the question I ask myself sometimes?
• Would I have taken my hand in anger for the first time ever in my life and thrown a slap or punch?
• Would I have the nerve to tell him how much I regret ever having known him these past 3 years? Or would have I just froze in fear?

Sadly frozen in fear has been my MO for escaping in the past. I never went into the Fight response- Flight response happened. Just like how I flew away from my mind and didn’t allow myself in any way to see what he and another guy (which I only found out that information much later by the other person who was there) were about to do to my body. Mentally I was in Never-Never-Land, so verbally composing a sentence giving consent I have been assured would have been absolutely impossible due to whatever drug I was given.

Sometimes I wonder Why….? Why did these things happen? Why didn’t I learn my lesson after the first time? WHY?
But then I remind myself that all the questions in the world can never answer the reason why. And why is that? Because I am not nor will I ever will be a cruel sociopath, so understanding why someone would choose to devastatingly hurt someone else would be like understanding mandarin Chinese at first glance. Scientifically speaking our brains are all different like every snowflake. Period.
Realizing that may be the most awakening piece of clarity.
Remembering that may be the hardest part however…..

Karma (ahhh)

They say you cannot truly love someone else until you truly love yourself.
Today I can say with unwavering certainty that I love the woman I have become.

Physically I know I can survive anything as comparing the excruciating process of natural childbirth dwarfs anything else; however emotional pain was/is always an uphill battle like trying to gain control of momentum on a roller coaster. The name of my roller coaster was Husband. The terror of the ride still haunts me. I remember with perfect clarity so many times he stood over me laughing at his own destruction and making a mockery out of my pain. I would be curled up in a ball laying in the fetal position on the floor of our bathroom (the designated spot I chose and went to countless times) crying so hard I would vomit gasping for air barely able to breathe. Eventually 10-30 minutes or so later he’d come in laughing, pull me up on my feet, hug me, and then say a derogatory comment while still laughing condescendingly.

Then, with a smile on his face and amusement in his voice, he’d tear me down even further. It was almost like foreplay for him. He enjoyed it. Sometimes, he would even become sexually aroused, and it sickens me to think of what I unwillingly permitted more often than not to happen.

Looking back now, my own tolerance and permissiveness, sickens me. Why didn’t I leave?! Why did I stay? I tried to bury some of those atrocities deep down inside myself, in an effort to block it out and forget. But I didn’t forget.  His abuse planted seeds of self-hatred and self-doubt so deep in my soul…. seeds that I let him plant and I let grow inside of me. Then drastically grew into an overpowering entity of bitter resentment eating me inside and out. The longer I avoided facing the pain I’d been through, the more overwhelming the bitterness and resentment became. You never forget pain like that.

I realized, I don’t have to avoid it anymore. I can’t.

I do not wish to hate the father of my child and would never wish that upon my worst enemy, but here I was sitting 3 years post divorce letting his cruelty haunt my usually happy demeanor with flashbacks from the past. I have decided to accept what I cannot change and acknowledge my own fault in that I allowed myself to be abused so long without standing up for myself. Most people go into Fight or Flight response but instead I went into a state closely resembling a kicked puppy dog whimpering with a tail in-between it’s legs. I let it happen over and over again. I did allow myself to be demeaned, but Not anymore.

“The only thing that is ultimately real about your journey is the step that you are taking at this moment. That’s all there ever is.”
~Eckhart Tolle

Today the ongoing battle of custody/child support came to a climactic conclusion. The dreaded court case that made me lose so much sleep and gain so many new grey hairs is now finally over! I was petrified that I would fall to pieces and directly on my face. Not the case in this case however. I held my head up high even while being cross examined by the devil incarnate himself in the courtroom, and ended up winning everything I asked to be paid. Heck- I could have even asked for more and most likely would have been granted it, but I am perfectly content knowing that I finally got a piece of the delicious karmic pie I’ve been desiring to taste for so long now. Like a stranded traveler in the desert starving for water who constantly only saw mirages. Only this time I got to savor it for real and it left such a sweet aftertaste in my mouth.

Every single horrific experience in my past shaped me into a stronger person as I survived each and every single one of those moments even when doubt came to mind if I could withstand it all. Every so often I have those moments of clarity in life where the stars align and I can finally feel an overpowering urge of utter joy bursting at the seams. I want to jump up and down or twirl around dancing today knowing I took action and changed things for the better for my son and I.

My life is exactly where it should be and I am exactly who I should be. I know my strengths and I know my weaknesses. I know myself finally. Who could ask for anything more?