For me, this is a therapeutic exercise. You see, I did this 30 day blogging challenge thing almost three years ago now. Back then, both of my parents were still alive, though my father was losing his fight against lung cancer. Almost everything in my life was completely different three years ago. I'm guessing that my answers to these questions are all going to be a bit different now too.
The last three years have been hard. Often unbearable. I've come out on this end though, and even with the extra scars I now carry, I like who I am more these days. If you want to join in the challenge, the prompts can be found here. My first answer to Day 1's prompt can be found here. Unlike the first time, I won't get this done in 30 consecutive days.
Off we go.
Day 1: Something you hate about yourself.
Hate is a strong word. We teach kids to reserve it for only the very worst things. Sometimes, though, it's completely appropriate.
The answer to this one one is shockingly easy to write this time around, and it's something that couldn't have been the answer the first time I did it for the simple fact that I hadn't developed the condition yet.
I hate, hate, hate the fact that I have PTSD.
I hate it all the way down to my core.
I hate that the things that caused it happened in the first place, yes, but I hate more the fact that my brain couldn't process them all the way it should have back then and that I have to live with this now.
I hate that my brain needs help to figure this all out.
I hate why I am here, and I hate that I am here, which are actually two different things.
I hate the nightmares and the insomnia and the panic attacks. I hate having full blown fears about going certain places. I hate that smells are the worst triggers. I hate that almost everything is a trigger. I hate that there are times that my own child is a trigger. I hate that there are times that I am unable to function the way I should be able to. I hate that I can't control my emotional response over the stupidest things. I hate that I can't just ignore things. I hate that I see the world differently now. I hate that it can take me three days to recover from watching a movie or hearing a song. I hate it that I can be totally fine one second, then all the way back down at the bottom of the hole the next.
I hate it.
I hate that I have it.
I hate it all.
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