The PTSD Diaries

Hello, everyone!

I know I promised a fitness and beauty haul but with all the work I've been set recently, plus an upcoming extended study I have to prepare for, I just simply don't have time to take the photos, edit the photos and ramble on about them on two separate posts. You may be asking 'well how did you find the time to do your previous posts and this one?'. Well, the stationary and art haul took around two days to make during the holidays and I'm not going to have that amount of time off again for a while now. I will try and do something similar soon though, because I'd hate to let you down!

This post is a little more personal because it's something that I've not really touched on at all recently, and the main idea behind this blog was to actually share stuff about mental illness. But recent dramas on the internet sort of deterred me from that. But you know what, if people really dislike these posts, why the hell do they keep coming back to my blog for more? 

More to the point, I just wanted to talk to you about my experience with PTSD because in all honesty it's something that's been getting at me for a while now and as lovely as my friends and family are, I still feel scared to talk about it. Maybe people will read this and realise why sometimes I need to talk about it sometimes, but we will see...

Note: This post is not a scream for attention. I want people to be educated about mental health, and also it would be great if the people who read this and have similar issues are inspired to speak out. 

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So, where do we begin?

PTSD stands for Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. And no, it's not something that only ex-veterans suffer from, which is what I originally thought before my diagnosis. 

Post traumatic stress disorder can happen after any traumatic ordeal. It could  be either a car accident, or getting attacked on your way back home from school. Various people find various different things traumatic, so it can literally be any event someone finds particularly stressful.

My ordeal was sexual assault (I hate the 'r' word). This event was kept top secret because I was just so ashamed of the fact it even happened and then suddenly during one of my regular CAHMS sessions I just exploded. Everything came out and I was re-directed to my psychiatrist for a formal diagnosis. Due to my behaviour, which I didn't even notice, there was apparently 'no doubts' that I had PTSD.

The hardest thing about the diagnosis was being told 'it's never going to leave'. I wasn't told this in a vindictive way, it was more so I didn't get let down if I felt I was having a really good week then suddenly had a nightmare or flashback. And it's horribly true. It's a mental trauma and sometimes no matter how hard you try the memories won't fade. But that doesn't mean you can't try!

What hasn't helped my situation is the fact that during my diagnosis I was also in an abusive relationship where there would be a fight over the phone or in person every night. I was always in tears or scared and actually thought it was normal to be so submissive. I didn't realise how much danger I was in until it all ended. 

I still get memories of everything when I've tried so hard to just forget it all. What hurts is the fact that it happens when these people are the last thing on my mind. I could be walking through the super market and oh my brain rakes up the time when x, y and z happened. 

My education was also jeopardised at one point. I remember being banned from revision and sitting in all my exams feeling sick, knowing I would fail.
When I read my results in Summer, I was beside myself in Westfield toilets. Knowing I couldn't resit my AS levels and he could filled me with rage. I'm still at college now, trying to get the grades I need to become a teacher. Luckily, on a course I love away from where all the drama escalated. Thank goodness, I was provided with this opportunity. It's one of the things that gave me the motivation to continue with my life and prove everyone wrong. And I cannot wait for the outcome.

What also hurts is how unsupportive people have been. I have two people I can talk to about this and they both know who they are. 

I had a particularly bad episode last year where some of my best friends just ditched me after a rumour was spread around about me lying about my previous relationship. The people who spread this rumour were ironically first hand witnesses of some of the abuse. I still can't comprehend how I felt and still feel about this. It was the biggest shock to think people could suddenly stop supporting you and it's made me reluctant to make any more friends.

When I have tried to speak to people about it, they've asked me why I'm still thinking about it, why am I still upset about it. Why would I want to think about it? 

I would describe PTSD as an invasion. It's always there but can invade your peace of mind at any moment, and when it happens it is so painful and sickening. And when you feel there is no one there to talk about it to, even worse. Because it builds up and you explode then hurt people's feelings and make yourself look so horrible and evil.

Two summers ago after I got out of the relationship I was particularly fragile and just felt I had so much anger and hurt I needed to get out but was scared of ruining everyone's holiday, as we were in Turkey at the time. I just erupted in my room and cried because I wanted someone to listen. They didn't have to say anything, or react. Just listen. 

That's the other fear, hurting people by telling them about your intrusive memories. That constant worry that they think you're 'not over it', when I am. It's an illness I sadly cannot help despite how hard I try. 

I have Tom who's taught me everything about healthy relationships, even though I'm in bad habits of thinking he's cross with me when he's not. There's been numerous nights where he's woken me up from night terrors and showed genuine concern and been there through all the shit people have thrown at me about it all. I honestly really do love him more than anything for his compassion and consideration towards everything. He is a hero.

This blog as well. It's so nice to know I have a supportive network of blogging friends who will just read on and support me despite what I write. Thank you for everything.

I just wrote this to say sometimes we all need a hand to hold. Forty five minutes spent talking about whatever is getting at us honestly can do the world of good. Please don't get into the mind set of thinking 'no one wants to know'. Because we all have someone who cares about us dearly and wants to help us put things right. I will be the first to admit I need forty five minutes every day to just calm myself down and try to forget past horrors. 

Thank you to everyone who has supported me, good night xo