I meet a friend recently, who saw my statuses in facebook and somehow managed to understand that I wasn’t okay. I had promised her we will talk in person.
I’m not sure yet if I want to tell her, so I leave it up to feeling.
We talk long about things, going around the issue. She has heard enough to be aware that something big has happened and I’m struggling going through it.
“I don’t care what it is, ” she tells me.“And whether you will tell me now, or in a year, or in two. All I care is for you to be good and happy. It doesn’t matter what happened. It was in the past, leave it there. It’s over. Do now what will make you happy.”
I look at her for a second, making sure what I will say will be the right thing. Something in her tone tells me she rather doesn’t want to know what happened to me. I can’t blame her. I don’t want to know.
No one really wants to think that they are broken. A lot of time we do think that.
Sometimes, I got to the conclusion that it depends on me.
And when it comes to choosing living or dying, it does.
When it comes to choosing what I will do today, it does. But there is something that I have found very hard to explain to people who have not been through trauma themselves.
The people who look at you, knowing or not knowing what you have been going through, and tell you that whatever it is it’s in the past. So it makes no impact.
It’s hard to explain to them how trauma works.
You don’t look at what happened logically the same way you would at any hard situation or anything else in life. Trauma fractures your life. That takes time to heal. It’s as if there is something broken in you, but not in your body, in your mind, in the way you perceive the world.
Some things are so big, so impossible to process, that you forget them.
Some things are so terrifying to process that if you even touch talking on a topic close to them, your mind spins, and blocks, and refuses to function.
Some cuts are so deep, that the only way to keep breathing at the time is to do everything differently, to do things that make no sense to anyone but you, just to convince yourself being alive isn’t such a bad thing.
Some things twist your thinking so much, you can’t use rational thinking there. You have to go around those issues, through the back door, use all the tricks at your disposal, just to make it bearable enough for you to see those issues, let alone solve them.
It takes time.
It’s hard to explain to someone how one word can break all the strength in you, or how one night can alter your whole world for a lot longer than few weeks or months.
So I look at my friend.
“Of course,” I say. “I know that. I will be happy, I am getting there, it will just take me a bit longer.”
“As long as you are taking steps, that’s enough.” she says, smiling.
I nod, biting my tongue so I won’t say anything I regret.
No need for her to know how many nights it has cost me to even be able to mention anything around this, without shaking and breaking down in tears, or how long it will take me to be able to have a normal life without this affecting it every single day.
Positive thought: Having been sick for the past week, this is the first time in years I can fully appreciate being healthy and able to do what I choose during the day, without my whole body hurting. Now, I can go through my issues with my past, yet still try to appreciate what I do have now in the present.