If You Ever Want to Talk About it.

     “If you every want to talk about it…” that is what they say. Every teacher, adviser, therapist, classmate, anyone, they all say it. The truth is, I don’t want to talk about it. I can hardly think about it without getting sick or triggered. In all reality, it seems as if people just want the gory details out of curiosity, not compassion. Sitting in my professor’s office, going over notebooks and whatnot, she asks me how I am doing outside of college. Trying to be as vague as possible, I told her that I was stressed, to which she questioned me as to why. “Just life” I replied. She told me that same line that I always hear: “If you ever want to talk about it, I’ll be here”. I am not an ungrateful person and I am well aware that when people say this they are only trying to show some level of kindness, but what if I did? What if I did want to talk about it? What if I just wanted to unload all of my anger and pain onto someone and tell them what happened to me, and why I am the way that I am? I don’t think they would offer again. But what good would it do, to talk to the people that are around me? They are as helpless as I am when it comes to mental illness.  

      I only slept for about an hour last night, and it wasn’t restful. Whenever I would close my eyes, the nightmares would return. Each more vicious than the last. My boyfriend reached over to see if I was okay but just made it worse. He asked me what I dreamed about and I did not want to tell him and I never do. I don’t want to have to relive every sickening detail and image that flows into my mind as I am trying to get some much needed rest. No one does.

      The thing about PTSD, is not that we willingly focus on our trauma, but we are unable to move on from it. It is like a ghost that haunts us, our dreams, our relationships, our thoughts, and even stays with us throughout our day. There are times when I just want to forget. I want to go back to the person that I used to be but I have been this way for so long that I have completely forgotten who he is and where to find him.

      There are days where I feel suicidal but it is not because I want to die. I want to live. This world is full of beauty, meaning, growth, kindness, and I was to experience all of it, however, I am simply unable. I don’t want to die, I just want the pain to stop. I want the flashbacks, the triggers, the nightmares, and the panic attack to just fucking stop. I want to be able to hold my boyfriend’s hand, to pet my dog, to hug my mother without everything coming back to me and reliving it. At this moment, I should be happy. I am in a loving relationship, I am close with my family, my grades are good, and I have a dream of being a botanist. Right now I am sitting on campus writing this, but in my mind I am still trapped. Five years ago I was locked inside a house without hope of ever leaving alive. Although I am here now, a huge piece of me is still locking in that house crying, wishing to be rescued.

      Life has a funny way of playing give and take. Life is poured into us like water into a barrel, but when you suffer from PTSD, there is a whole in the very bottom of your barrel and it cannot be filled again. No matter what happens, I will always try my hardest to be full of life. It’s so easy to just give up and let yourself run empty, but please don’t. I am worth more than a trauma and so are you. Stay strong and to try see that there is joy to be had in being here on this earth.