Spiraling Out of Control

Today, I’m in a bit of a slump. Okay, so I have been in a slump for couple of days now. It’s one of those inevitable feelings that come along with PTSD and trauma and so on…either that or I am loosing my mind.

Either way, whatever work I touch those few days, it’s destined to fall apart.

I can’t work. I cry, I obsess over things, and I can’t work. Like I have switched the clock and went back few months. I know I got over that phase of recovery, so why do I feel like that again? All I know is, my life has been change after change for months and I still don’t feel like it’s enough sometimes. All the dark shadows of my life, they all wait, lurk in the corners where they belong, until I’m facing a bigger challenge, and then they all come back to hunt me.

I need to change.

I wake up on Saturday morning with that thought in mind, but I don’t know exactly how to change, before I do some work. Work doesn’t come along.

I need to change. Continue reading


Back in University pt.2 (on the ability to dream and other disasters)

“Hereon by, I live in a different world. My world has been stripped to it’s very core. I have no expectations, no hopes, no dreams. People that dream much, they can’t survive here. I have to find a way to tip the scales in my favor, but after everything, I feel completely lifeless and broken. I can’t really let myself try, because I’m already broken, and if I go on, I’m not sure I will make it. I’m sulking, not just miserable, but so much under I can’t remember, anything really. There might have been times I have been more, but they are too far to remember. I’m so out of options, I have never been before. I don’t talk about it. I repeat it’s fine, pick myself up and keep trying, because this is what we are learned to do. But it’s not fine, it isn’t.

It’s what people say when they know they have hit rock bottom.”

                                                                   –me, right after the rape, summer of 2010 Continue reading

The Minimalist Guide To Recovery

When I started out this blog, I went deeply into research of the issue (i.e. rape, depression, PTSD) and I was trying to encompass everything. Taking care of emotions, going through memories, understanding my reactions, taking care of myself physically, and doing my work.

In other words, I was doing what every busy adult has understood to be a faulty concept- the one that you can do all you want to do in all aspects of your life.

Even work aside, I was in over my head. Continue reading

Journaling: Once Upon a Time…

One of the best summers in my life was a summer abroad, working as a housekeeper and traveling. When I had returned from it, I had started a “memoir” about it, so I would never forget how amazing I felt then.

Last night, as I was sending my boyfriend some pictures from that summer and telling him stories about then, I finally started remembering how I felt then. And realized how differently I saw the world now.

The person who believed everything is possible was gone. I had promised myself to never forget to be true to who I am no matter what. What did I know? I was a kid.

And in few short months, I grew up. Fast.


My philosophy was always simple. Find out your passion. Fight for it. Don’t let anything derail you.

And I didn’t. Not when the rape happened. Not after that. Not in the months when I spend at home, crying my eyes out before I managed to somewhat move on. But the fact is, I lost my sense of wonder. Between the PTSD, the depression, and the denial about what happened, I no longer had the energy to truly devote to something. Giving up everything I could to achieve a summer abroad- a summer that broke down everything I was- had thought me that not every price was worth paying, and I no longer was sure if I wanted to find out the price of the life I wished for.

Following a dream when you are afraid of even taking a step is not a winning venture. I couldn’t give up the dream, or follow it, so for 2 years, I was stuck in the middle.

And when yesterday I looked the pictures, for a second they made me see life as I did before. That world from them had looked foreign to me, and I eventually stopped looking pictures, because the slightest try to remember that I had once been happy made me want to cry until I bleed. Because I felt I could no longer be this young, this free, this happy. But last night, for the slightest second, I remembered.

And so I figured, it was time to finish the memoir I had once started. It was time for me to merge the best parts of my former and my current self, and see where it can lead me when I finally see the world as neither fully good nor fully bad, but as it was.

Day 0: Seeking Africa

picture from idf.org

I was watching this episode the other day of a TV show called Samantha Who. The main story revolves around Samantha, who has amnesia after she is hit by a car, and struggles with figuring out who she wants to be.

In that particular episode, she wants to “be a good person” and decides to go to Africa to help people. That made me think. We all seek our own Africa. It might be trying to be a better person, or a dream job we chase, or visiting a place on the other end of the world.

But even when we have enough courage to chase after what we want, there are things we can’t predict.

Chasing after my dreams, I couldn’t predict all.

I couldn’t predict I will get raped.
Continue reading