Awen's blog

Family of PTSD?

I guess I am lonely and trying to feel good about myself when I don't have a mirror to reflect my worth to me and it gets hard being my own cheerleader day after day.  I hate how insecure I have become, how I doubt my worth now, how I think no one wants to know my reality or truths.  How I feel like no one understands.  I cannot go back to acting like I don't know what is in the world under the manic panic hair dye and punk LPs and hash - and I don't want to.  But I feel very isolated.  I know I bring down the party, but the party feels like a nightmare to me. 

Survivor Guilt

I feel very bad for all this. Why do I get to have better psychiatric treatment than someone else? Why do I get to have AC when others don't? Why do I get to have health insursance? Why do I get a home?

I feel like if I get better and if I became happy, I am abandoning all beings that suffer right now. I need to keep all our stories in my head, so no one is abandoned and forgotten the way I was. If I do something frivolous like art or watch a movie, I am a bad person for not being the witness of all the suffering in the world.
 

The Cop Out of Karma and a Benevolent Universe

A friend whom I love recently said to me that she's going to go for it and do some really hard things to make her dreams of working to improve children's lives a reality. She said that she had to believe the Universe would provide for her.  See, I used to believe that. I want to believe that, but I don't anymore. I asked her to explain this, not to be a bitch, but because I was hoping she'd be able to convince me that the Universe works this way.  1/3 of the people on this planet don't have access to drinking water. The Universe is clearly not providing for them.

19 Years Riding the Mental Hellth Train

My husband would hit the walls screaming, "You don't need to have a mental illness! Stop it!" until I cried that I wanted to die, I hated myself and felt so scared. To try to be what he wanted I worked on bipolar workbooks every day for hours to get "normal". Meanwhile, with all of his yelling at me, I started to have panic attacks. Then I started to have depersonalization - where I was dissociating so much that I thought I stopped existing. This is normal with PTSD, but the doctor said I was psychotic and drugged me more. Also, I was terrified that zombies were trying to kill me, so I'd hide in the closet terrified and suicidal. This was my way of trying to make sense of the terror I felt.

 

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