Thanks for the trauma

May 24th, 2020 was one of the worst days of my life.

Covid was in full swing, people were taking precautions, and lockdowns were happening. At 3:20 PM, I got a phone call that shattered my world. After being in the hospital since April of that year, my father gained his wings. He suffered a stroke in 2015 and it was as if the man I knew, the hard-working father who drove to work every morning to provide for his family and loved to build things, watch NASCAR and drink his Budweiser was gone. He wasn’t coming back.

Something inside me broke, pieces scattered like a poorly built puzzle. I changed that day. The depression and the anxiety came back in full force. I even stopped writing for close to three years, something I absolutely enjoy, because I found no joy in it. There was even a time I attempted to be a responsible adult and look for a job. I was going to be independent and learn how to take care of myself. Well growing up, I was never taught basic life skills, something essential for every adult. I was never given that opportunity. This may not have been their intention and I don't blame anyone, but these were the consequences. Don't get me wrong, I love my parents and I know deep down they tried to do the best they could. This is where the panic attacks started and they got so severe that I would quit the same day I started or worst-case scenario, I got rushed out in an ambulance and ended up being a liability for the company I was working for at the time.

I honestly wish, even find myself begging the universe at times to help me and set things right not knowing that deep down inside, I have a lot going on that needs work and lots of therapy. 41 years of trauma haunt me every day. Everything from toxic childhood to mourning that childhood because all I was concentrating on was survival, and promiscuity in my 20s where I just wanted to feel something, to feel loved and appreciated. Looking back, I now know that was no way to go in order to heal.

Therapy has been beneficial, I’m learning new skills, and even attempting to reinforce old ones from my time being partially hospitalized for severe anxiety. After the panic attacks started, I didn’t trust myself or my thoughts so... I reached out for help. Partial Hospitalization or PHP helped me with new skills to navigate life or… at least I thought at first. After I graduated in August of 2021, I thought I was okay. I thought I had it in me to actually live life and take care of myself. It’s been nine years since I started therapy and I feel as if I’m going backward instead of forwards. Sometimes I curse myself for my brain being “Broken” when it shouldn’t be.

Every day is a challenge. Will I be happy? Sad? Pissed off? I honestly don’t know. A lot of things trigger me, from a random Facebook post of someone who seemingly has their own life together to job hunting online which kills my soul half the time. I just want to feel “Normal” if that’s a thing. To be a responsible adult like those before me, to leave some sort of legacy if I choose. It’s absolutely gut-wrenching and degrading at least in my eyes to ask for help shopping because you and your husband are on a limited budget and you’re trying your damndest to provide, to take care of yourself, and not let the anxiety win.

I refuse to give up because that’s not who I am. I refuse to sit back and feel defeated and just give up on life although those thoughts do cross my mind from time to time. I know in the back of my mind I will be okay. Everything will be fine, it’ll just take some time as long as I keep on going.