Exhausted

I cried the night of the 4th of July, I woke up yesterday and cried, I cried again that evening. Last night I cried for hours before falling to sleep. I got maybe three hours of sleep because I cried so much. Today I woke up early and drove to Lexington to sign the lease on my apartment and pay the deposit money. I hung out at Joseph Beth Bookstore and the Mall with a friend and my sister before driving home. On the way home I relived being raped, while driving. It hurt physically and emotionally. When the reliving died away I became so exhausted from crying and lack of sleep that I almost fell asleep at the wheel. My sister drove to our hometown, but then had to go to work. Now I'm crashing in another friend's room b/c I don't really trust myself to drive home. I hurt, my eyes are swollen from crying last night, I don't feel safe, and I'm EXHAUSTED. That's really all I have to say. It's not really something you can put on your status for facebook.

-Jerelle

PTSD Relapse

I haven't posted in a long time. To be quite honest I'm not okay. I'm in very very familiar territory, but I'm not okay. It's an everyday, every hour thing. . . . My PTSD is back. It's back and it's as strong and horrible as ever. I've held off writing about it because it just hurts so much that acting out, numbing, or distracting myself is easier, no, it makes life liveable. PTSD is a psychological disorder that causes you to relive your trauma. For me, that's obviously rape and molestation. Sorry to be blunt but that's my reality. I relive it every day. I feel it, I hurt, I cry, I try to get away from it and I can't. You can't run away from yourself. There's no real person to fight off of you. The panic attacks, extreme anxiety, flashbacks, hallucinations, disassociations, numbness, they've all come back in full force, maybe stronger than before. Every day I feel like I'm going crazy. I forget to eat all day. I don't sleep until 3 in the morning. I stay out late. I can't concentrate enough even to read Harry Potter (rereading before the last movie). I'm afraid of my own shadow, constantly looking behind me. I'm scared to death all day. My stomach feels like it's trapped in a speeding car after swallowing a ball of ice. I'm a wreck. I used to be really good at pretending and acting like I'm okay so nobody notices I'm crazy, but I can't make myself pretend anymore. I'm sick of pretending. I just hurt so much I can't find words to describe it. I feel so pathetic and alone. I'm silently screaming all day. I want help, but it's so hard to ask for help, to reach out. I can't see things clearly. I can't see that anyone could possibly care about me. Because of this I try my hardest to not make myself a burden to others. I just feel so broken. I know God is putting me back together but I can't feel him. I know he's there and I'll never doubt that he's here with me and has everything under control. I just hurt and it feels like there's no end to this hurt. Sometimes I just want to disappear, not die, just disappear. I just want to be okay again.

-Jerelle

Determined

I just wanted to come on here and say that I'm still determined. I've been struggling with PTSD and PTSD symptoms since my senior year of high school. I got a short break from it my senior year of college but now it seems to have come back in full force. But I'm not crushed by that. It feels absolutely horrible that I reached a point where I wasn't afraid for an entire day and now I can't go an hour without reexperiencing something horrible my brother did to me (I'm so glad I'm good at hiding this crap in daily life). But I've had a taste of what life is like without PTSD, without anxiety or fear that I'll be hurt again. It's so good it's beyond words. Before, I had no evidence that life without trauma or reexperiencing trauma was possible. I didn't know life without it. I had no idea what that looked or felt like. Now I know and it's made my resolve to heal even stronger. I know it's possible and attainable now. It's not just some far off wish or hope. It's a reality that can be reached. I'm not going to give up. I can't give up because it's either heal or die slowly. If I wasn't trying to heal I'd be trying to drown out the pain through any means possible. That means I'd be drinking, driving way too fast, taking huge risks, cutting, partying, taking a baseball bat to my brother's car, punching holes in walls even if I bloodied my fists, and doing anything stupid I could think of because as bad as it sounds physical pain and adrenaline distract me from the pain inside. I don't want to try to drown out the pain because in the long run it only hurts me more and it hurts the people who love me, though right now I really  can't see why or how anyone could ever love me. When anxiety and pain take over me, I can't see things as they are. Most of my thoughts are irrational and I can't see the truth even when it's spoken to me plainly. Right now I'm reexperiencing something. I honestly don't go a day or even half a day without reexperiencing something. Right now all I feel is disgusting and dirty and worthless. It's hard not to feel this way when I can feel the past happening all over again. In reality I know I'm sitting in my friend's dorm room, but at the same time I'm hallucinating and feeling pain and hands holding me down or hitting me in the head because I made a crazy bid for freedom. It really sucks and there's nothing I can do to make it go away. However, I trust God in this. I know he has a plan and he's healing me. I don't understand everything or how I can be healed but I trust God and I KNOW he can and will heal me. If he wasn't going to do something amazing with my past and heal me then why did he stop me from taking my own life four years ago? There must be a reason I'm alive and I'm fighting for that purpose. I refuse to give up.

-Jerelle

Opening Up

Bleh, I’m sick and I have so much to write about. Let’s be realistic. I’m not going to be able to write about all the things I do or even all the things I plan to write about. That’s life. So I’m just going to write about what I can write about. What’s the biggest thing that has been going on in my life lately? Well, it hasn’t been pleasant. It’s been horrible, interesting, enlightening, and painful. In order for all of this to make sense, though, I have to go back and explain something amazing that happened several days ago. I had gone camping with some of my friends, which is an interesting story in itself. After we packed up and went our separate ways I was hit with a horribly familiar feeling. I couldn’t quite place it because it had been so long since I’d felt it. I was feeling anxiety, a lot of anxiety. My heart and thoughts were racing. My limbs and gut went numb and I drove like a maniac. I didn’t understand what was happening or why I felt the way I did. It was like the few days before then (when I started to have body memories again) had piled up in me and I reached breaking point. I felt isolated and I hurt so bad. I tried to tough it out. I was on the road to my house, so close to my house that I could almost see it. Then I saw him. I saw my abuser’s car as it passed me going the opposite direction. I fell to pieces. I debated a whole lot about what to do. I didn’t feel safe at all. The anxiety was like a horrible countdown clock threatening imminent danger. My thoughts were irrational. Somehow the huge latch Dad put on the door for me looked like a twig and I was sure that it wouldn’t stop my abuser from getting inside. He once took apart a doorknob to get to me. The friend I normally went to for help was really sick that day. I didn’t want to bother her. I knew she cared, but she felt so bad that helping me, no matter how much she wanted to help, would make her feel worse. I had been writing and thinking about all the bad habits and patterns that I had been breaking as I healed. Not asking for help and suffering alone is one of those bad patterns. I decided to take a chance and trust. I texted another good friend of mine. I asked her to pray for me because I was really struggling. She texted back and I opened up to her. I let her know what was bothering me and how I was feeling. Actually, before I started telling her, I hadn’t realized that I was afraid. Truth be told I was terrified. She invited me to her house. She told me she wanted to help and that she wanted me to be safe. It took a lot of convincing on her part. I just find it so hard to believe that I’m not a burden to other people. Trusting my friend and going to her house was one of the best things I did. I could have tried to deal with it alone, but I’ve seen the results of that time and time again and, trust me, it isn’t pretty.

I was super super nervous as I pulled into my friend’s driveway. I was shaking. You know that feeling when you feel like you’re an inch tall? That’s how I felt. I was embarrassed, ashamed, nervous, anxious, hopeful, and desperate. My friend met me at the door. I found it hard to look her in the eyes. It’s hard to do that after you bare your soul to someone, especially if it wasn’t in person. She hugged me. Some wounds are in a place so deep that words alone cannot heal them. This simple act was worth a million encouraging words to me. I was scared and anxious, just like I had been when I told my parents about the abuse. The difference, this time I was met with a reassuring hug. I didn’t have to have it all together; my friend just wanted me to be okay.

We talked . . . a lot. I was shocked by how willing she was to listen because a lot of people would rather distract me from the pain. I have to process it; running from it only postpones it. I found out how closed I’d become as I talked. I was so nervous, so afraid of rejection that I’m sure at some points my voice must have shook. It was hard to talk but I needed to talk about so many things. I talked about the abuse, PTSD, anxiety, how I cope, my parents, etc. Everything is so tied together. I realized that I couldn’t tear down every wall. I could only become vulnerable to a point. I wasn’t able to show how I really felt when I talked. Instead I talked about things in a joking tone and smiled and laughed a lot. I cope using humor a lot. It was either laugh or cry. Crying felt too vulnerable, so I laughed. This may sound strange, but it’s how I protect myself. Sometimes I can’t face everything at once and I have to take things one at a time. In this case I could handle sharing the content but not the emotion that goes with the content.

I decided to break a bad pattern that day and I’m so glad I did. I am so blessed to have opened up to my friend. Having more than just one person to go to when I’m really struggling is really comforting and it makes me feel more sane. When only one person tells you you’re not crazy it’s hard to believe it, especially when you do crazy things and feel like a lunatic. But when two people together agree and tell you you’re not crazy and you’re not bad and you’re not a burden . . . It’s easier to trust what they say and believe them.


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-Jerelle

Though Sorrow May Last for the Night His Joy Comes With the Morning

3-14-11

            Can it be possible that the sun is rising on my dark night of the soul? The night has been so long that’s it’s hard to imagine life without it. I remember the nights when I cried myself to sleep, praying and asking God when it would be okay again. When was I going to not hurt anymore. When could I lie down in my bed and not think about his hands covering my mouth so I couldn’t scream. Lying in bed triggered a lot of painful and unsafe feelings in me because I was often abused in a bed. I hated myself, I hated by body, I hated how weak and vulnerable I felt. Everything is so different now. I speak with confidence, well, more confidence than I’ve had most of my life. I like myself. I take care of my body, eating what’s good for me and exercising. Before, I felt that I didn’t deserve what was good for me. Now I gladly take care of myself physically, emotionally, and spiritually. If something feels too threatening to me or upsets me, bringing up memories of the abuse, I say no. I assert my boundaries and I don’t let anyone walk all over me anymore. If I don’t feel up to smiling and acting civil towards my brother at family get togethers I leave. I don’t put up with it anymore. I will not live with my head down anymore. I am not a door mat. I have more self respect now. I used to wear a mask so often that many in the family didn’t know it was fake. I operated according to a fake personality. I was an introvert, quiet, didn’t step on people’s toes, didn’t get in the way, didn’t ruffle feathers, and sacrificed myself for the convenience of others. In reality, I’m equally introverted and extraverted. I can be quiet and I can be loud. I care deeply about people but now I won’t enslave myself to them, I’ll help as much as I can, but I won’t be an enabler. I will not be an emotional punching bag anymore. I’ll ruffle feathers and step on toes if I have to and I believe I’m worth enough to get in the way sometimes. I stand up for myself because I’m worth fighting for. I will not apologize for being who I truly am. I’ve hid my true self far too long and hiding your true self is damaging. If my abuser can walk around with his head held high why can’t I? I can and I will. I didn’t do anything wrong. It wasn’t my fault. I refuse to continue carrying my brother’s shame. The shame belongs to him, not me. I drop it today and God forbid I pick it back up.

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