As the youths would say, ‘here’s the tea, sis.’
Happy New Years folks, here’s to another year of harsh realities, except this time we get a whole extra day of it, or as the Becky’s of the world say, ‘366 days of opportunity to do/ be better’ – yes, it’s a leap year for those of you living under a rock. Well, I hate to be the one to have to break it to you, but the only accomplishment we’ve really made as a species is having managed to make it another year around the sun without completely destroying our planet or each other (knock on wood…WWIII anyone?). We’re all the exact same person we were, at 11:59 pm on December 31st. Your problems, the skeletons in your closet, the demons chasing you, your self-hatred, self-doubt, all of it, it’s still you, you’re still you. No 60 seconds on the last day of the month can change that. The buzz of your NYE high will fade and you’re going to look in the mirror at some point and realize magic doesn’t exist like that.
If you’re still riding the high of the positivity a new year is supposed to bring, maybe stop reading now and enjoy it while it lasts. If you’ve read my blog before you should know it’s time to dive back into reality. Welcome to my self guided therapy session. Hopefully if you choose to read this you get something out of it, if not, sorry for wasting your time but you know the drill.
2020 may have just begun but I’ve already written it off as another year of just trying not to drown. I know, I know, don’t be so pessimistic. But if you know me, you know I’m just honest. I’ve had a rough go these past few years, and although I’m supposed to hop on the bandwagon of “new year, new beginnings”, I just don’t. Truth is, nothing changes unless we go out and change it, and that doesn’t happen overnight. Those of you that’ve read my posts before know that I am a victim of bad luck, and no matter how hard I try to move on and leave the past behind, it follows me. Anyone who’s experience serious trauma can tell you there’s no easy cure, your mind and your body react, and you don’t always have control over that.
It’s 6 days into the new year and I’ve already experienced a year’s worth of genuine hurting. I’m looking out my bedroom window now, watching the snow fall so peacefully, cars and people going by, time keeps going even when we feel like everything stops. Lately, time feels like its passing slower, like I’m being forced into facing the past by having so many things going on the present. I feel like I’m a teenager again who’s just experience her first trauma – fear and loneliness consume me. My palms are sweaty, my heart beats fast, and tears fall uncontrollably down my cheeks. Small triggers send me spiralling into a world of the past. In my mind I know I’ve pushed forward and made healthy growth in my own recovery. My body, however, is experiencing beyond my control.
My mind is a troubled place, it’s full of shadows of the past. I’ve been through hell and back, and somehow have managed to keep my head above water all these years. It’s not easy, I’d be lying if I said otherwise. There have been days where I’ve considered just ending it all; say goodbye to my suffering and lessen the burden on everyone else. But, there’s a fire burning deep within me, and that’s home, no matter how dim that spark may get.
I’m sitting here feeling sick to my stomach. I’ve ripped off my nails and picked at my skin. My fingers are ripe with blood. They sting with every click of the keyboard. I want to be okay, but the fact is, I’m just not. The new year began with a trigger. I’ve barely recovered from the last time, and like a rock hitting an already fragile windshield, I shatter. I’m the driver, trying to press so hard on the break so I don’t completely crash and burn. There’s glass everywhere, mixed with tears, and blood. It’s messy, but it’s salvageable. I’m salvageable.
Now it’s story time. You know I’m a sucker for a fairy tale, so let me tell it like one.
Once upon a time, one of the girls I live with invited a man to our home. They’d been on a date and things were fine…until they weren’t. He had come and gone, showed all the signs of decency. Then, like a spell had been cast upon him, he showed his inner beast. You see, she’s a princess cut from marble, she’s beautiful and greatly desired. However, not all men are lucky enough to be chosen as her prince charming, and unfortunately, some men turn to beasts. He rode in his carriage to our castle, uninvited, and spat the most ugly words at this undeserving girl. He lay hand on her suitor, and circled around again. As it really isn’t much of my story to tell, I’ll leave out most of the details. However, he whispered threats through his writings, and enough was enough. Guards were summoned that night.
A million thoughts raced through my mind. Don’t cry. Just Breathe. It will be okay. This isn’t him. This isn’t you. Get it out of your mind. Shake that feeling, you are okay. A deep breath and I’m back. It feels like hours have gone by. I’m in shock. This is really happening. Do something. I do everything in my power to comfort her, supress my pain and anxieties until later. I can’t show fear, she needs me. But I’m no guardian. I’m just as much of a mess as she, I just know how to wear a mask.
I lace my fingers into a fist, it’s a prison for all the monsters that’ve ever laid a finger on me, on you, on anyone. I’m done with this shit. I feel my nails digging into the skin of my palm. Release. The monsters run free. Please, let the blood from what are now scars drown the voices of the past.
I fled. Back home is where I need to be. The silence of the wilderness surrounds me, I can hear the past, the beat of my heart in the now, I can focus. I can breathe in the cold winter air without interruption. I can close my eyes and feel everything, see all that I’ve been running from. What’s the difference between here and there? Here, I feel safe. That’s all we can ask for. No one of us gets to play God. We don’t get control over what happens, or to who, or when. We just exist and roll the dice, hoping for the best. Sometimes though, what we get is the worst.
I’m lucky that what happened didn’t directly happen to me. I’m unlucky in that I’ve survived many traumas before, and one small thing can set me off without warning. I should mention, I tried to get back into the dating scene recently, but turns out that my traumas “aren’t enough in the past to be able to handle” for certain people. You asked me to tell you everything, you’d read all my blogs, and were ready to dive in deep to the Brittany Chronicles. Then this happened. I fell apart, and you left. 2020 isn’t off to great start.
I feel like I’m rambling. I guess what I want to say here is while survivors, victims – whatever you identify with – we can only do so much to move forward. These things that we’ve lived through, they don’t just go away. Every day is a battle. Each day I get out of bed is a victory on its own. I’ve lived, I’ve nearly died, but I’ve gone on. That’s life. Trigger warning.
The Brittany Diaries 