Honesty is brutal.

Honesty can be dirty, nosy, so bad that we simply turn away and run. But what I have been going through for the past 2 months is more cruel than honesty, it’s more hard. Living 2 lives can be tough. Especially when someone asks you why are you not doing something, and you can not answer them, because the answer is so deep, so personal, that it would break you, to even say a word.

Here, I can be honest. But beyond that, I slowly realize, I have to bite my tongue, and spin the truth. Explaining to people that I have spend the last 4 months dealing with PTSD and depression, and that’s why I can’t keep a job for the life of me- that isn’t an option.

I deny the truth access to the surface, because I burned out the last time. I don’t want to hear the truth. Because the last time, I barely lived through it. But when I wake up, my emotions are a bit more…calm. I see, I have changed. I have changed, not only because what happened changed me, but because I have given up. The past few months I have somehow given up. I can’t recognize when I have become so whiney and bitchy and complaining. I may have a da*n good reason to be to…but it’s still only an excuse and it’s not helping me.

I can’t blame my parents for expecting me to find a job. I can’t blame people if they can’t understand why am I at home, complaining, instead of taking action. I had hard 2 years, and may be I let them get me down, I did. But that is no reason to shut down, and not live. Or may be it was. I did it for a while. I had panic attacks and flashbacks and normal wasn’t an option. But somewhere on the way to recovery, I just stopped trying.

The truth was ugly, but fair.

I was at home. Finally, possibly, safe from the past. It was still hunting me, and it was going to for a while, but I have to fight for my dreams. Whatever that means. I’m not sure where down the road I couldn’t continue anymore, but it’s time to try again. If I don’t want explaining all my dirty secrets to anyone, I need to find a job to support me, or freelance online to get enough money, so I don’t have to answer to anyone. I have failed, I have fallen, I have had bad times. But I can’t use them as an excuse forever, no matter how terrified I am of change.

It’s not easy, recognizing I have been wrong. Especially that the last time I was wrong it cost me too much.

But I used to like working. I used to like knowing I am independent and can make my own choices. And he took that from me. And I let him keep taking it, even 2 years after the rape.

I have to let myself see this time. I need to get my control back. It isn’t pretty situation, but it isn’t the end of the world. I have done 2 jobs and 16 hour work days, and now I can’t hold an 8 hour work day? That isn’t me. Not a version of me I want to be anyway. So I have to do something.

I am not sure what yet, but it’s time I get my life back.

And if my past hunts me, I can write here. Vent. Talk to friends. But beyond that, I need to make my own choices and own up to them. If I can’t explain why I can’t do something, of course people will judge. They have the right to.

But for me, I know how I got here today, and how hard it was even getting through another day. I couldn’t have made different choices until now.
I needed to recover. But I have recovered a lot.

Now it’s time I fight back.

*Positive* The other day, I went running. I am also getting into yoga and working out again. I think a healthier body is a good step towards reintegrating myself into life again.


7 thoughts on “Honesty

  1. Oh my goodness..no one has the right to judge! You sound so hard on yourself in this post that it’s hard to read. You’re beating yourself up. Please be gentle with yourself. You went through hell, that doesn’t just go away. It takes hard work in therapy. Ignore what anyone thinks you “should be” doing. You know what you can and can’t handle right now and that is really okay.
    lots of love xo

    • Yeah, I guess I was a little emotional. But it is true. Hell doesn’t go away. But I also have to stop expecting my family to accommodate my life-reinventing journey. I can’t expect people I don’t know, and who don’t know what I have been through, to understand. But despite everything, I still want certain things. And sooner or later I need to take steps towards them. I think it’s time. I need it to be time. I won’t be in hurry, I know how being in hurry ends…but it’s time for some changes. Building a new life and reinventing myself is also a big part of recovery, and it’s time I do that.
      Thank you for your kind comment! Despite all my trying to be positive, admitting to having made a mistake, and not being able to explain why I needed those months to think things through has been really harsh. I’m okay now. I’m in the middle. It’s time I do something, yes, but I will make sure, that I’m in no hurry, and that I choose the right way to do so.
      xox, Atlanta

  2. Jessie says:

    Atlanta, hey, it is hard to talk to people who don’t understand. For the first time, ever, I was able to say, “I was raped.” Without stumbling over the word ‘rape,’ or kind of skirting around the issue. It has been this past couple of months of daily blogging, surrounded with others who are also living with or healing from the effects of trauma, that has made a huge difference in my strength to deal with the outside world. I’ve learned that the brain needs an awful lot of rest in order to heal. I think that opening up online, with people who listen compassionately, has helped me to see that it is not *my* problem, if people I meet in person react badly to my story. I’ve started to notice that they have certain expectations of me that have nothing to do with me, and everything to do with themselves.
    It’s hard to let the brain heal when under pressure.
    I agree with buckwheatsrisk, and know that it takes time to heal.

    • Hey Jessie,
      I completely agree with you. Blogging here has been a huge help in taking steps forward. It used to be that I was shaking or throwing up every time I heard the word “rape”, and even when I told people, just like you, I went around the issue. But through taking time to heal, and vent and take care of myself, that changed. I managed to tell most of the important people for me, I went onto being able to also say the word, in English, and only later-in my native language. It takes a long time. It’s helpful to me, to look back through this blog, and realize that even though I may now have achieved what I wanted in those months, I am way better. I don’t anymore wonder how to get to sleep at night. I finally don’t have my heart beating like crazy each time I wake up. I eat regularly, I manage to do some of my work, I manage to have good moments. At those moments I realize that somewhere between high school and here I have changed. I’m not the anti-social girl that had only few friends anymore. At the times where I let myself let go of the rape and see a step further, now I’m actually a lot more social then some of my friends, and make new friends more easily than before, and I’m more confident. It’s no longer the end of the world if I have to present something or be a part of debate…I let the rape take all these great things from me, and I thought it was forever. But they are coming back. So I guess even without big life-altering changes in the eyes of other people, I think the last months have been very important on personal level. It’s impossibly hard for me not to judge myself and try to take everything day by day, or even by the hour, but I’m doing my best, because I know I need it.

      • Jessie says:

        Sounds like you have made *huge* strides in your healing.

        It’s funny about the language. I spoke to myself (in my head) in French for quite some time after my rapes. This was not my native language. So the words, ‘quel horreur’ came up quite a lot. ‘What horror.’

        I heard that Anna Anderson, who claimed to be Anastasia Romanov, the daughter of the last Russian Tsar, stopped speaking in her native language. It was the language of the soldiers who murdered her family around her. Personally I am inclined to believe, from what I’ve read, that Anna Anderson was indeed Anastasia. Not much was known of the effects of extreme trauma back then.

        Isn’t it great, to be able to judge our own progress, and throw away what we think is important in the eyes of other people. I think you’re amazing, the way you describe the positive changes in your life, and the great courage and tenacity you show in reaching for your dreams, and making them a reality.

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