The Hill we climb

PTSD

I'm Faking being Sick?

You must be confused, because what I am actually doing is

Faking "Being Well"

I don't always talk about all my symptoms, I don't 

always admit when I'm not feeling well and I often put

on a happy face because its just easier that way.

Any idiot can fake being sick

IT TAKES REAL TALENT TO FAKE BEING

JUST FINE WHEN YOU FEEL LIKE HELL.

This comes to mind lately. Too many times people just do not understand. It is NOT their fault. I hope they NEVER have to go through it. I am learning to forgive others before they say things about stuff they don't understand. This is happening to ME, it's MY trial and it is completely unique as is everyone's trials. Someday I am going to help someone else. I know it. That is the one thing that keeps me alive some days. It is exhausting, looking over your shoulder every second, expecting doom to happen wherever you go and being trapped in your own body and mind. Feeling so desperate, you will do ANYTHING to make it stop. But you can't run away from yourself. I am my own worst monster. Even though every day feels like an eternity, I keep climbing the hill. Somedays I slip and slide backwards, some days I just sit where I am at and don't look up or down, but some days I will inch up and forward. It is painfully slow but the reward at the top of the hill will be a better and new me, a me that I will learn to love and like, and that is worth fighting for. 

Living with PTSD

I am not writing this because I think everyone should know how tough it is living with this disorder. I know only a few people ever check my blog. I am writing this because I want to remember what it feels like years from now and how far I have come from this time in life.
PTSD (Post traumatic stress disorder) I noticed something was wrong two months after Heidi was born. I thought it was the slow recovery from the HELLP syndrome. Or the adjustment to having four kids after a C-section. A c-section. I am able to type it and sometimes I can say it, but not without great effort. I have been going to sessions every week for 3 months to try and cope with this. I could never make anyone understand who has not experienced this. I have tried, even my parents but they concluded I am only "Human".
This human. Who hears her own heart pound in her ears because she is so scared all the time. Whose hands and mouth cannot function when triggers arise. Who has shut off her family and friends because she feels so numb. Who cannot look at people in the face and avoids the crowds. Who has a stomach in perpetual knots from fear. I am only human. My mind isn't broken, it is wounded. Anyone can say I need some tough love and to just get over it. I dare anyone to take one day in my mind. This is real, and I can say with regret that I would have been one without compassion to any dealing with these kinds of anxieties. But we take little steps, baby steps on the road to recovery. There are good days and bad days. It is slow, so slow. Some times I feel it will never end. But one day I will look in the mirror and like who I am and who I have become. My husband is pulling me through. Even if its mud and crap he is still getting me through it. I feel forever in his debt for not giving up on me. I am so lucky to have such a perfect eternal companion. And grateful for our beautiful children. So amongst life's thorns there are roses :)