Sometimes you don’t realise just how horribly bad it really is until you’re crying alone on the bathroom floor of a hospital shower. That’s when you really realise just how badly it’s affected you and that you can’t just get over it. It doesn’t matter what anyone says to you, something bad happened to you and you can’t just get over that.
Bad things happen in life, hurts, traumas, and some of us are better at coping than others. It doesn’t make the trauma any less real. Some of us can bottle it up,some of us can’t. I bottled it up for 18 + years. I don’t recommend it. Now I’m paying for it. I cry everywhere I go, I have anxiety attacks even though I’m taking copious amounts of anti anxiety medications. And now I’m in hospital, again.
Moving on from hurt or trauma is hard, it has you in it’s web. My personal brand of trauma tells me continually that I’m fat, that I’m worthless, that I’m useless, and pathetic. Only it’s not quiet about it, it screams it into my ear in only a voice that I can hear, in a voice that only I know so well.
It breaks you down, turns you into something that you’re not, something less than. It chips away and takes away parts of you until nothing is left. Nothing but the hurt, nothing but the trauma.
It ruins you, if you’ll let it. But don’t let it win, oh please don’t let it win.