Sunday, August 3, 2014

Darker Days

As I begin to write this, my hands are shaking, my chest feels constricted, and my heart is racing.

Dark clouds have dimmed my days over these past two months. What caused it all exactly, I'm not sure. It may be that I was out of options for course selections for this summer and had no choice but to enrol in a child sexual abuse (CSA) course at university. Maybe it was coming home from my trip to Brazil and experiencing reverse culture shock, which tends to make me cynical, bitter, and antisocial. It could also be that I'm so burned out from life, school, multiple jobs, financial stress, and all of these things that can all too often be overwhelming. Undoubtedly, these dark days were caused by a mixture of all of what was mentioned above, and my past experience has once again caught up to me.

I'm struggling to put into words how impairing it feels to constantly be overcome with anxiety, panic attacks, flash backs, nightmares, and depression. When I began to do the course readings for my CSA course, I started to identify with what was being discussed. Guilt strong enough to keep you awake at night. Migraines. Constant body aches. You guessed it, all long term effects of trauma from being sexually abused, on top of depression and anxiety. I feel so angry at my abuse. It is a ball that has chained itself to my body, I carry it around with me everywhere – I get stronger because I have no choice but to, however I also tire from being tethered to it. I do not always think about my abuse, sometimes weeks can pass and it will not cross my mind, but other times it weighs heavy on me, and it cripples my ability to do anything. I'm not sure my father understands the life sentence he has given me. He did his time in prison for his crimes, but I'm left to handle this for the rest of my life. I don't think justice was served.

There have been numerous sleepless nights scared of the dreams that haunt me. It's just as scary to be awake. Flashbacks of my abuse that come from triggers that I wasn't aware existed. They've sent me to the floor in the fetal position, shaking and crying, completely taking over my mind and body. Panic attacks that tighten my chest, my heart races, my body shakes, my mind spins. And I'm in a constant melancholic state, regardless of other wonderful events happening around me. I want to be back to where I was just a few months ago, happy, satisfied, and loving life – but this monster in my brain protests, it demands to be acknowledged and dealt with.

I'm tired of running away from my demons. I'm tired of pretending to be happy, putting on a smile. When I walk through my door at the end of the day I fall to pieces. I'm embarrassed that I'm incapable of being strong for everyone else around me, that I can't always keep it all together. I feel guilty when disclosing how I'm feeling to people who are my support system, because I don't want it to burden them. I feel isolated, even with loving family and friends, and my partner who offers me an abundance of support and empathy.

I hope my current battle will be over soon, as my body, mind, and heart are fatigued. I'm not sure how to end this, because I'm not sure where I am.


Kora Liegh

2 comments:

  1. Always remember, to cry, struggle and fear is not a sign of weakness but strength. You don't think the great world changing leaders of yesteryear struggled the same? It's ok to feel, it's good. It shows how much more human you are than so many of us. The kind of human that turns her own pain into inspiration and love. Helping total strangers and leading paths.
    Nobody ever said it would be easy, but it will be damn well worth it.

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  2. I can completely understand what you are saying about feeling like you are burdening your support system. I'm guilty of thinking this way too to the point that I barely discussed with my parents why I was off work for two months... Because I don't want them to worry. I'm trying to change my thinking on this because I know they ate there to love and support me. You can gladly "burden" me any time. From one survivor to another.

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