Digging Into My Trauma

Most days, I don't know where I am going in life and realize I am wandering aimlessly. However, tonight I had the opportunity to share my past with someone. Most days, I realize the trauma I endured can push me over the edge. But tonight was different (until I got to thinking about it). I began to evaluate what I was going through when I was this child's age. I thought about what would have happened to me had I not found a way out of my own personal hell. Growing up, I always felt so alone, and I have friends who can tell you what a fantastic person I was and how I helped them through school. I wish I could remember all their fond memories of me because I, unfortunately, do not. I have heard stories of how I helped one girl feel safe at school because she had no friends and was new.

Or how I was this rock that everyone turned to for advice. I was always so lost in my thoughts that I had never seen what an inspirational person I was. Somewhere along the way, I lost those memories. Instead, they were tainted with pain and suffering. I grew up without a family. Because of that, I became the sad girl who this saint of a step-father took in. I had no family, and every day, I was reminded of this by the actions of my caregivers.

I became this empty shell that stopped reaching out for help because when you are in the foster care system and have the last name Foster, you become this body of self-loathing, and even though your step-father is the spawn of satan, you wish that one day you would be adopted. Because at least you have a family then, right? For most of my adulthood, I have longed for a family. Someone to call my own. Someone I can call and cry to when I need someone. The truth is, it is lonely, and I will tell you that the pain never goes away, but life gets better. You become so good at coping with the pain that on the bad days, it seems bearable, but on the terrible days, it rips you apart. This article isn't written to make you feel bad for me because the truth is I dont even feel bad for myself.

This situation made me realize I still strongly remember what happened to me and how he got away. How one day his girlfriend and he will have a daughter and the thought that history might repeat itself. Or worse, she knew it was going on, and she let it continue. People are dealing with different types of trauma all over the world. So when you are quick to throw hatred their way, just think you could be their reason to give up on life. You could be the reason they no longer want to breathe because they have been trying so long to keep it together.

When you see them struggling, dont give them empty compliments about how they are so inspiring to you because we won't let you know how much this harms us (at least how much it harms me). All we want is someone to listen and someone to care. I don't want my ability to cope with trauma to be inspiring because that is the thing I hate most about myself. That trauma has built me into who I am, and without it, I wouldn't be me. I wouldn't be "strong.". I would be ordinary, and unfortunately, I would rather be ordinary than broken and pieced back together all wrong.

What happens when these people don't want to be strong because the very things you admire were built on the very things that keep them up late at night? Imagine not wanting to sleep at night because the nightmares make you relive the past you fought so hard to get away from. Imagine seeing your abuser's face repeatedly as you sleep and your spouse coming home wanting to get in bed because they were sent home early and they work the night shift.

Then, because you have been through so much trauma, you go to attack them because you are reliving the terror you faced as a child of this monster of a man sneaking into your bedroom in your dreams, except now you are strong enough to fight back. So you start swinging before waking up and realizing it's your spouse and not the monster.

This monster haunts my dreams but hey at least I'm strong right?