I am fascinated by memories. As something with complex PTSD, I have intrusive memories. Snippets of a time past that force themselves into my present, pushing me back into the past.
Compromise happens all the time. There are compromises that you don’t have to think about and ones that take a bit more time to ponder. And then, you have to factor in the reason for the compromise. So that is an essential piece of compromise too.
It sounds so simple. Call someone when the darkness creeps in, but it isn’t simple. My poem, “Who, indeed?” is about the difficulty of calling someone. Who can help me when the onslaught of darkness brings me to my knees?
Writing. It is somehow in my DNA. Even though I ignored that part of myself for many years. Stating (and writing) that I am a writer. It is key in leaning into my future.
Finding some alone time during the holidays can be challenging. I have found a few stealthy self-care tactics that have worked for me when I need a few moments to breathe.
There comes a moment when truthfulness is the key to whatever is next. My truth is at my very core; I am depressed with a hefty side dose of anxiety. But that is me all of the time.
The holidays are just around the corner. Survival mode initiated. But wait, do I have to keep surviving this? Can’t I do something different? Maybe I can.
I didn’t know I would write about this, my spiraling into darkness. I had plans to write something else. But that is what depression and anxiety do – it takes over and changes your plans.
It is never too soon to try, learn, or do what you have always wanted to do. As an adult survivor of childhood abuse and trauma, I am starting to do things I could not do as a child.
Have you ever had a time or multiple times that you felt disconnected from yourself? That is what disassociation feels like for me. It took me a long time to realize and understand those moments.