Trying Not to Drown
There is nothing more frustrating than going to bed emotionally exhausted and waking up at 4am due to another night terror. Night terrors are one of the ugly side effects of when my post-traumatic stress disorder is triggered. Needless to say, it has been a tough morning. My Other Half woke up an hour earlier than I did due to the stresses we’re going through. Lucky for us, what doesn’t kill us will make us stronger…and this too shall pass.
Self-soothing words I feed myself in order to maintain sanity and hope. Words to calm my mind as it whirls with an overwhelming amount of thoughts from replaying out all the possible scenarios of a colossally negative experience and all the ineffectual ways to mitigate it.
The best way I can explain this is that it feels like we are all swimming in a deep pool of poo that was created by others. Like I wrote in one of my posts, “crazy” is doing the same thing over and over again but expecting different results. This gerbil wheel results in a toxic cesspool that is very hard to get out of. It’s even worse when you fall into it without knowing the depth of the crap.
Once in it, you know it stinks and try to find ways for you and your fellow swimmers to get out. Problem is that more crap is added every so often because that gerbil wheel is always actively working. As you work your way to the pool’s edge and try to help those around you to get out, you are pulled back in. Some have no idea that the shit they’re splashing around in is detrimental to their well-being. Some want to come out but have been too broken down to find the strength to get out. Others fear the unknown as they have only known a life within this cesspool. Then there are the few who are exhausted from years of trying to escape this hell and have run out of ideas.
As you try to pull yourself out, the weight and pull of the others drag you back down. If you successfully pull yourself out, the dragging of the others strip you of your external layers and leave you cold and vulnerable. Shaking, gasping for air and confused as to how the fuck did that happen and why is it allowed to continue? You stand alone to bear witness to what is still continuing.
Its a dramatic analogy but it is the most accurate way to describe how I feel right now. Horrifying as it is, we’re stuck in this pool and trying to find our way out.
The problem is this is a very big part of our lives. We will, one day soon, drag our sorry asses out of this shit situation but the truth is that some of the swimmers may never get out. Their anger will be as strong as their denial, but the truth is and always will be the truth.
The truth is hard, especially for me. I’m a relentless optimist. I couldn’t have made it through this life if I didn’t always find some glimmer of hope, but I’m also a pragmatic optimist. Not everyone makes it out okay. That’s the brutality of life. That brutality weighs deeply on me since I love so deeply.
My therapist wants me to save myself. My tribe wonders how my Other Half has survived this long in the shit. My heart breaks and mind is restless. It’s painful for a survivor to feel victimized again, and to see other be victimized by unchecked human suffering.
As a team, my Other Half and I will get through this. We’re smart, caring, rational, and empathetic people. We both have had complex lives as refugee kids who have rebuilt ourselves multiple times. We both live bravely and have been rewarded with so many blessings including the love and support of incredibly loyal friends and family. Our growing pains have helped us evolve into a collective force of resilience and determination.
We will get through this together and be stronger for it. I believe this deeply. I have to. It’s that beacon of light that we’re swimming towards. It’s what keeps us going. Life is a journey and this is one shitty event in our journey that we will grow from.
Here’s hoping…..