Regular readers of this blog will recall I have struggled with PTSD for many, many years. I started therapy late 2018 and by February 2019 we had established I hadn’t dealt with the threat that was made on my life August 23rd 1987.
It took a while for that to settle within me, the fact that I hadn’t just been raped, he’d held a knife to my throat and told me he’d kill me. The trauma of that had me stuck.
By going through with the reliving therapy I became unstuck and was able to deal with the emotions. I also discovered why I hated my face being touched – his hair had brushed against my face when he had been dragging me down the riverbank.
In June of last year an incident at my granddaughter’s school caused me to have a relapse with the PTSD. So it was back to see the therapist once more.
Dealing with everything has taught me that the feminine aspect of myself was severely wounded. Dressing in baggy clothes allowed me to feel less of a woman and therefore less of a target to rapists. Being hyper vigilant allowed me to always be aware of who was around me at all times. Keeping people at arms length allowed me to be in control. These feelings are fairly normal for someone who has been viscously attacked in such a violent way.
In recent weeks I began to realise I was actually happy. It was one of the weirdest feelings I’ve ever experienced. All of my adult life has been spent in some sort of emotional turmoil, but that has all changed. The weird wasn’t because I’ve never experienced happy, naturally I have, but this was a feeling that had been growing inside of me, gaining momentum every day and wasn’t fleeting.
Recovering from deep rooted trauma is no easy task, but it is possible. My story is mine alone and my words are not intended to diminish anyone else’s pain and suffering.
I am happy to be me.