As my fingers begin to type these words, I become very anxious. It has been quite awhile since I have allowed myself to write. I have tried on multiple occasions, but I could never get myself to go there. As the days turned in to weeks and weeks turned in to months, it felt impossible to get back to where I was.
The past 5 months have been extremely difficult. On the outside, I pretended I had it all together. I put a smile on and acted like nothing bothered me. But, on the inside, I allowed my Protector to overtake with all her might. She came out, head strong. I felt like I had completely failed and a part of me was missing. She came out to help me manage my day to day life.
Moving back to Seattle from Vancouver, was devastating. I don’t think anyone really understood how much it broke me; I didn’t even know. Vancouver was my home and the last place I felt like I had a home. I felt like I had to let it go for good this time and I was nowhere near ready. I shut down. It wasn’t sudden, it was gradual as my reality set in. I slowly stopped writing, going to church, and reaching out. Eventually, I stopped everything.
The depression began to worsen drastically. The anxiety started to eat me from the inside out. The PTSD, made its self known with the flashbacks and restless nights. I was done. Mentally and physically, giving up was the only thought I had for days on end. It got to the point where I needed to fight for my life… again, but I didn’t know how or where to even start. Praying even felt impossible. I was so far from who I am.
Somewhere in between all this, I missed multiple weddings and events this Summer. I moved into a cute mother-in-law unit above a garage, which is slowly starting to feel like home. I applied for school and I start in January. I got into a car accident, which I now need to get my front bumper fixed and I suffered from whiplash and very painful hips.
Breathe. That was a lot.
I can’t lie and say, I have it all together because I don’t. I can’t lie and say I don’t struggle with my mental and physical health because I do. Everyday is a constant battle and I question if I am strong enough. Some days are better than others, and my smile seems effortless. Other days, I can hardly manage getting out of bed. This is my struggle. It is apart of me, but it does not define me; And as I continue to recover, I pray I am able to help and inspire someone else who is struggling too.