War Wounds

Possible Trigger Warning: This post will discuss child abuse.  It is not graphic nor will it go into detail, but it may be triggering to some survivors early in their recovery.  If you have any doubt, you will not hurt my feelings by skipping today’s entry and picking up my posts on Tuesday.

It’s been more and more difficult to get this cloud of depression to go away.  It seems that ever since I went to volunteer at Challenge Day, the cloud has grown darker and hangs lower and lower.  I think that I truly needed several days off to recover mentally, because the experience was traumatic to me.

Because a majority of my co-workers work with children, I am a mandatory reporter who is required to go through training yearly.  And the week after Challenge Day was the annual training.  That was bothersome for me and I tried not to squirm in my chair at some of the lecture and discussion during the question and answer section.  It seems that now I see it in several of the shows I watch, and I have to change the channel because I cannot handle it.

I see where this road is going, and I hate it.  I hate it because I don’t have the time nor do I have the financial resources to deal with it.  I also do not have the support system in place to help me deal with it either.

I am a survivor of physical, emotional, and sexual abuse.

Normally, I can keep things buried in their boxes with piles of other boxes on top to keep them contained.  Occasionally, like what is going on right now, the boxes start to seep open and eventually I am forced to deal with part of it because it is so triggering.  Much of the time I can hide it, but there will come a time it will blow up in my face and splash the shit all over my personal and professional life.  It never fails.

My mother is bipolar and has never been properly treated for it.  My father was never around (partly because he lived in another state, mostly because he didn’t understand what was going on, even after I was diagnosed).  My mother’s family are expert rug sweepers and gaslighters.  It’s hard to explain and hard for many to understand.  Short of having to live with it, the closest thing I can get is the Just No sub-reddits.  Reading some of the stories there remind me of the crap I went through and I realize I was not alone and that my normal meter was broken for a long time until I got out of the fog.

As painful as this has been to write, I know that in the morning I will feel better.  Tomorrow is another day.  And letting the pressure off by burping the lid just a little bit helped.  I just don’t know if I want to delve deep and shine a light on things in the past, or even if I want to share them here when I do shine the light.

To quote Dory from Finding Nemo, “Just keep swimming.”

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