A few weeks ago, I met this nice young gentleman who clearly stated his interest in me. I, however, being somewhat scatterbrained, didn’t think or take much notice of this. Weeks later, I find myself getting more attached to this man than I ever imagined I would. The best part? The feeling’s mutual. What more could a girl ask for? Finally I’d graduated from fleeting high school romances to something real; at least, so I thought.
Things were going pretty well between us I’d say, but I knew it would only be a matter of time before all my fears and doubts would enter the picture. One day I’ll tell myself to stop thinking so much; just let go for once. The next day I’ll be crawling back inside my shell, wondering where all my bravery had gone. I try my best to keep on going anyway, but when it feels as if you’ve got ten different people living in my head, all fighting to be in control, falling in love – or doing anything, really – seems next to impossible.
After all, who can stand it? I can barely stand my own brain, so why should anyone else? Thoughts like these run through my mind until I feel as if I’ve been completely sucked dry, and all my progress seems to sink down the drain. Then once again, I regress and push away the ones I love most.
Surely it gets tiring, doing the same old thing over and over again. I believe that’s what they call insanity. Well, I’m angry. I’ve had enough, and I want out, but all of this seems to be just a shout in the void because a mind can’t be fixed in the same way a physical wound can. When a mind is damaged, it takes years to be rebuilt, and many times I’ve tired out my own patience. Thanks to PTSD, this is what my life has become, and it is a thing I’d wish upon no one.
But thanks to PTSD, I’ve made up my mind. I want to be open and honest, no longer living in the fear of falling in love and getting hurt. I want to fall deeply in love with life again, and embrace all the pain that comes along with it. I want to show the world who I really am and what I am capable of. I want to love with every inch of my soul; not holding anything back and I refuse to let PTSD stop me.
For a long time, this illness, as well as the mountains of stress I seem to be carrying these days, has taken me away from my writing, which I love so dearly. But thanks to illness, I have come to realize that the only way for me to heal is to let go and love. Thanks to PTSD, I was able to meet this wonderful guy and feel things that I’ve never felt before, and even if it doesn’t last, I can at least say that thanks to PTSD, I’ve tried.
Though I may never truly understand why I have post-traumatic disorder, I can safely say that my life has changed in unimaginable ways, and even in all the madness, through much prayer, I am able to find peace. If anything, this illness has been a wake up call for me; a chance to ask, “When will you ever truly start living?” The answer? Not when I overcome my illness, but now.
To whoever is reading this, whoever this resonates with, I want you to know that your illness doesn’t define you; that you’ve got a world of beauty within you, just waiting to be explored. Don’t let the darkness of this world steal your light.