c-PTSD Journals

It’s been more than a year since I’ve written a post for this space. I write extensively in my journal every day so I have plenty to say and share. It’s not for lack of content. It’s fear and pain and my hard-working ego trying to keep me safe from re-experiencing past traumas.

I let my ego tell me that I didn’t want to be identified by living with c-PTSD. I want to heal and be whole and not feed this part of me so I shouldn’t dwell on it, right? I let the part of me that doesn’t want to be vulnerable to other humans tell me to just forget about it, don’t give this any attention or energy, close this blog and WordPress account and fuck it, try something different, something glam and neat and bright, like how to make more money this year or 10 ways to start exercising again, instead of working though and trying to clean up this ugly, sticky, smelly, dark stuff.

But it is the sticky, stuck, ancient stains and spills and crap stuck in the corners of the room that end up helping us to grow and expand in this existence. If my life had been softer or sweeter, maybe I could naturally be soft and sweet but would I have the capacity for compassion for the pain of other humans as I do now? Would I care enough about the homeless woman who is sitting on the bench outside of the grocery store, the deep lines in her face and the far-away look in her eyes telling me of days she would rather not think about? Would I give her the only $20 bill I had so she could eat? Would I give my full undivided attention to my teenaged daughter’s friend telling me about the bullying she was experiencing at school or would I stop to help a flailing moth out of the pool of water on the ground because my heart won’t let me just pass by knowing I hold the power to save its life in that moment?

It is the painful, sharp blackness of hours that went by too slowly like torment in my life that have heightened my sensitivity to the pain of others, even if it is just a moth.

I have been that moth. I am still that moth at times. Many have stopped and rescued me by writing and sharing their stories or posting their vulnerabilities on a video for all the world to watch and see. I am deeply grateful for YouTube and the many essays and books I have read that gave me direction, clarity, and hope for change and healing. The first book that I remember that opened my eyes to the abuse I was experiencing was Why Does He Do That? Inside the Minds of Angry and Controlling Men by Lundy Bancroft. Reading that book was a painful and shocking awakening within itself for me. There are too many other books and channels to list that have given me hope, guidance, and validation.

I am opening myself again to be vulnerable enough to continue to share here because maybe in doing so, I will rescue another moth.