Many people in this world exist in life with some form of grief or trauma riding on their backs. If you don't, you're either in denial, don't realize or want to recognize it, or are very lucky. For those of us who recognize these things, life can be very complicated. It's such a taboo subject to talk about mental health. We use our brains for everything; they are such a selfish organ that they are the last one to shut down when someone is dying. Yet, we rarely talk about mental health and it's effects on life.
I grew up in a home with an alcoholic father who, unbeknownst to me, had adopted me at a year old. So, to me, this was actually my biological father. He was a liter a day Popov vodka drinker who was aggressive and angry to the core. I spent my entire childhood being abused physically, emotionally, and sexually. As a little girl I did whatever I could to make this man love me, because I loved him more than anything. He was my daddy. I spent years being the honor roll student, the quiet girl who was bullied and the nerd who did nothing but read books to escape my own reality. Trying to be perfect so that one day things would be okay.
Between the ages of 13-14 my parents finally divorced. The emotions I felt were so dynamic and confusing. I was sad but I was happy for freedom. I wouldn't have to worry about that next blow to the face or being pinned up against a wall by my neck. Yet, I loved this man and still thought he loved me too.
After my parents divorced my dad tried to steal my brother (biologically related to both parents, so half brother) away in a car. I grabbed the handle of the car and opened the door and he continued to drive while I was dragged down the road. I'll never forget that feeling of being the one he wanted to leave behind. At 13 years old I had to face that I was not a wanted child.
My family moved to Florida and my dad moved to Louisiana. My brother left to live with him, separating us more. At 17 my brother came to Florida to visit. I took him around in my beat up 1990 Pontiac and brought him around my friends. The first night he was there, in front of all of my friends, he looked at me and asked me if I knew why my dad never loved me. Shocked by the question I just stared blankly at him as he proceeded to tell me that it was because I was adopted and didn't belong to him. Embarrassed and broken, I took him home and told my mother what was said. I was lied to about being adopted when asked. I called my dad and he lied. And I finally saw my grandmother and her response was, "What do you think?", and I knew the answer.
For years I continued to have a toxic and tumultuous relationship on and off with my father. He would never call or reach out for birthdays or holidays. And my brother began to hate me, placing the blame of my family's break-up on my shoulders. In 2016, my father was living 3 hours away in Florida and became really sick. He had drank so much that he had developed necrotizing pancreatitis and was intubated in the hospital. I left work and home and drove to stay with an aunt and visit him. I sat at his bedside, thinking of how much of my life he had taken from me, holding his hand and still loving him. Family was gathered, with hopes of his recovery, but, as a nurse, I knew he was going to die. I cried in his ear and I forgave him. I told him I loved him still. And after a few days the decision was made to extubate and I held him as his breathing and heartrate slowed consistently with each passing minute. He was 56. This person, this monster, this father I wanted to love had finally died and ended his own suffering and demons. I wanted so badly for this man to love me and I had to watch him die, knowing I would never get that love or any answer as to why.
Things in life shape us so deeply and our brains protect us so well that we don't realize our trauma responses in life. I recently realized that I am not only a very angry, jealous and bitter person; I am someone who puts everyone else's well being before my own. I am my own enigma. I thought, well I'm a nurse, I own a home and am married, so I'm fine. I am a survivor and I have broken that cycle. Ever had to admit a wrong so large to yourself that it hurts? Here I am to tell you, I was wrong.
At 31 I am seeing patterns in my life that I cannot believe I hadn't noticed or realized were toxic before. I fall in love with people too quickly. I give all of myself to any relationship I have and when I receive less in return I become angry and destroy the relationship. I put myself last on my list. I obsess over things about myself. I tell myself I am not good enough or worthy of any resemblance of normalcy or happiness. I judged myself before anyone else could do it for me. Or I drank in order to feel differently and comfortable around others. I open up immediately to anybody who wants to listen. I live in a state of anxiety that medication does not help because that is impossible with a diagnosis of CPTSD.
This isn't a pity me blog. I want to make that clear. I recently shared that I am on a path that is leading me to so many different positive options in life. I am learning that my tough exterior has been such a facade when in reality I was giving to everyone from an empty cup. An empty, cracked cup. This realization has changed my life completely. I cannot even explain to you the amount of happiness felt when you get that tiny taste of the beginning of freedom and growth when you take the steps to retrain your brain and recognize where you're truly at. It affected me so much that I realized how truly unhappy I had been in my marriage and life for the past 13-15 years. To the point of causing a separation. I had given so much of my self (and don't get me wrong, I have played a massive role in my own disastrous outcomes) that one day an argument broke me and I completely separated my relationship. I am sharing this because it is a raw truth that living in undealt with trauma is living a lie. How could you love others when you don't love yourself or even know yourself? I don't want to be that person for the rest of whatever life I have left.
As human beings we are resilient. We can choose which type of resilience we want. Rigid self-sufficiency or healthy boundaries, love and growth? I believe that these are things we should be open about. Mental health is so important and it can affect how you may treat someone or help you to understand their reactions to you when you say or do certain things. If I can do this and break the ropes that have cut through to my soul and kept me tied to a stone out in the deep, then anyone can.
So, I may be a shattered little girl on the inside, but the woman on the outside is standing and walking forward with the force of a dragon behind her. The woman standing here now is holding that little girl's hand and saying, "It is going to be okay, I love you".
Talk about your mental health. Treat your mind like you treat your body. Be proud of who you are and live the way you deserve to. I cannot stress that enough. I promise, it will be okay. I promise, you can do whatever it is you need to do right now. Even if it is JUST for right now. And, whether I know you or not, I love and believe in you. For what that's worth.