I never really had a desire to blog before now.  I am not computer savvy and prefer paper and pencil expressing myself by drawing, but today I felt a pull to go public with all I am learning.  The past 2 years have been like none other for many reasons, but the personal growth that I have experienced has been life altering.

So where to start???   It is hard to decide where to start, but how about a summary of my childhood as I remembered it prior to the last few years.

I was blessed with an amazing mother, a warrior of a woman with an ability to survive an unbelievable journey.  I watched and modeled myself after her in strength, dedication, work ethic, and passion for people.  I realize now that her sacrifice and dedication to us, my siblings and I, is the foundation that taught me that bad things happen but they don’t have to define you.  I draw from her strength daily. I was always successful, primarily because of this drive inside of me to prove myself.  I had HIGH expectations of myself and was determined to accomplish my goals, period.  I am super social and a performer at heart.  I could always go into performance mode and escape there.  I think I lived there for a long time.  I always had a determination that came from somewhere deep inside.  That determination was good in that it made me successful and independent.  However, I didn’t realize until the past few years that not all people fear imperfection to the point that their worthiness is tied to their performance or to such an extent that all emotional, spiritual, and physical signals tell you to stop, but you can’t for fear of the shame that would follow.    I didn’t put that together until recently.  At that time I just knew the level of panic that would set in if I stopped, and that was worse than any amount of exhaustion.

This performance driven lifestyle was doable in high school and college, and even at the beginning of my marriage.  But as the responsibilities of motherhood, career, marriage, and building a business piled on the expectations were so far out there that I found myself exhausted, with a failing body, and an even more chaotic, self sabotaging mind.  I failed in my eyes constantly, this brought a sense of panic that I had never experienced.  After my first child, I experienced what I call “post partum anxiety on steroids.”  Now not only did I have to achieve all those unattainable expectations, I had to do so with my crutch of performance mode crippled by anxiety.  I managed to pull it off or so I thought.  Enter the second child……the struggle to keep up got even harder, I managed, but not without beginning to destroy my body and my marriage.  My self hatred was so hard to control.  It is hard to love well when your mind is constantly belittling you.  FEAR………fear dominated my thoughts.  I could no longer hold together all of my responsibilities, so as many of us do I let go of what I could.  I couldn’t let go of my performance mode completely so I became an OT and a mother, and my husband got what was left which was very little.  I disconnected from regular interactions with friends and family as well. At this point I didn’t understand the why to all of my struggles.

You see, I had become my father’s primary caregiver at 18 years old.  I knew the stomach aches I would get when he called, the fear/anxiety and anger that I felt when I had to take care of him in the hospital or nursing home, but I couldn’t place exactly why it was so extreme.  I knew that when my parents divorced, he started replacing my mother with me, viewing me as his wife and owing him the attentiveness that he thought he deserved.  He was very inappropriate with me but stayed just under the line of what I considered sexual abuse.  In my eyes he was creepy and wanted from me things that a father should never want.  I struggled as he got sicker because the guilt for not taking care of him was just as bad as the feeling that I had if I did.

This sent my ability to hold my world together to a whole other level of impossible.  My marriage struggled even more, my self concept hit rock bottom, and performance only lasted when I wasn’t home and if I was home I was ASLEEP.  Sleep became the escape, performance no longer provided an escape-it was just REALLY hard work.  Sleep became my goal.  Then came the guilt that I was avoiding living, my kids were suffering, my marriage was as low as it had ever been.  My husband never gave up on me and continued to help me build my dream-my business even though he was not getting much in return for that generosity.

Then it happened……my father was finally dying, something I had felt guilty for praying for for years.  My brain subconsciously decided I was ready to know the whole story.  I started having flashbacks, lots of flashbacks.  His death was only a few weeks away when the memories flooded back.  The feelings when I had visited and cared for him finally made sense.  He had sexually abused me throughout my childhood.  I barely brought myself to attend his funeral, my mother and my sister did all the work with the death and all that goes with it.  I didn’t visit him in his last days.  I couldn’t.  I was shocked that the mind could really hide things from you.  My therapist says that once the medical side of me knew his death was eminent, my mind was able to release the memories.  I never would have been able to care for him without being blinded to those memories.  I had heard of repressed memories but I wasn’t sure how much I really believed this could happen.  I believe now.

Through the last 2 years I have spent hours upon hours healing.  I have an amazing trauma therapist, a supportive family, an amazing husband, and two little girls who gave me the motivation to heal, truly heal.  I no longer have flashbacks and I have found a joy that is deeper than anything I have ever felt.  I also have purpose, a new purpose not dictated by outrageous expectations, but a purpose that gives me energy instead of robbing me of it.  It is because of this new joy, this new life that I have started this blog. This blog will be a place where I share my thoughts, breakthrough moments, and the internal work that was needed to move past Complex-PTSD and regain hope and joy in my life. My hope is that I can be of help to others experiencing a similar journey, for I have been learning that sharing my story is a huge part of post-traumatic growth. I want to scream from the mountain tops that HOPE CAN BE MENDED.