Going back to work so soon had been a critical mistake; as soon as he stepped into the operating theater, he became aware of the blood and the monitors and how tight the scrubs were around his neck – It hadn’t taken long for him to land on the floor, crying out that he wouldn’t be able to save them.
It’s been a couple of months since I had any intrusive thoughts about my old job as a child protection worker. I think that’s why it’s hit me so hard this early morning. It’s a long road to recovery from PTSD, and it hits you so unexpectedly. Still, this doesn’t mean defeat! It just means I need to deconstruct WHY I am still so afraid.
Still, I admit I feel a little tired and hopeless in this moment— it’s been seven months since I could work. It’s been seven months since I left my full time job, and been declared unfit both physically and mentally for full time work. I’m just keen on going back to being the pleasant Moosh I was before all this mental health stuff messed me up? Some days I feel so bitter, and wonder why me? Then other days I realise it’s me because I’m a fighter, and I fought as hard as I could for as long as I could.
Now, it’s time to be good to myself and others, and rest before getting back into the rat race once again 💜🎉
Honestly, people that survived trauma are some of the mentally strongest people on this planet. A lot of people tell you to develop resilence, and they fail to realize that you already have. Youve just experienced such gruesome things, they could never imagine, the fact that youve handled much more than them for years and despite it are still alive, going strong and recovering, doesnt even occur them because they were fortunate to never have to go through trauma. So let me tell you, you are strong and you are resilent, the fact that you struggled through all of this trauma proves it.
I hate that all
of us traumatized, damaged and abused people are always told to change and
“turn a new leaf” and recover and to work on getting ourselves better
as if this is our job, to undo all the damage that was done to us. We can’t undo the damage anyway, we can’t live
as if we’re not shaped by our own experiences, we can’t live like nothing
happened, what is asked of us is not only selfish but impossible. Nobody wants
to listen and hear what we went thru and nobody wants to know about the horrors
that are happening to children and adults right now, but all of us victims and
survivors are supposed to “work it out” by ourselves. We should just
quietly not bother anyone with our trauma and grief and terror and pain, we
should just “leave it in the past” as if the rest of you all are not
throwing tantrums over every fucking inconvenience you have in your life.
You know what?
Maybe, maybe if people cared about what happened to us and had the fucking
decency to listen and be on our side, we would find it easier to feel
compassion for ourselves. Maybe, if people would offer us protection, resources
and safety from abuse we’d have an easier time to not feel completely rejected
from society and on our own in our pain. Maybe if we could count on warmth and
compassion when something bad happens to us we wouldn’t be sitting there
isolated feeling like we can’t tell anyone what happened! Maybe if we weren’t
told all our lives to not blame our abusers, to always forgive, to not dwell on
past, to be the bigger person, maybe we wouldn’t be so fucking scared of being
shut down and criticized when we need to make it clear that someone else is
responsible for what we’re going thru! That it’s not okay and forgivable if
someone causes us unspeakable pain!
How are all of you
expecting us to recover while being cut off from resources, compassion,
allowance to speak our truth or to hold our torturers responsible? You all are
uncomfortable when we’re as much as angry at abusers, as if we’re somehow now a
danger to society, like we are now going to take insane revenge and ruin our
lives. Our abusers already did shitton of unspeakable horrors to us already!
But you’re not after them are you? They didn’t ruin their lives did they? You’re
not making sure they don’t do any more unspeakable horrors to us are you? Of
course not! You don’t hold them to the same levels of scrutiny and
responsibility! It’s easier to tell us what to do, to try to control us, to
stop us from becoming inconvenient to you, while abusers hurting us was no inconvenience
to you whatsoever! Stop pretending it’s on us that you don’t care!
I have been a bit vocal about how I think Annabeth and Percy going to college without taking a gap year to work on their mental health is a terrible idea, so taking into consideration the hints that something is going to happen to the Romans in the next Trials of Apollo book, I decided to write what I think should happen with Annabeth and Percy and their PTSD since Rick Riordan refuses to touch those topics.
Annabeth took a deep breath and the fresh air of Crissy Field filled her lungs; the fog had rolled in and she could barely see The Golden Gate. Last night had been a bad night and she had spent most of it in hysterical crying and yelling with her dad trying to comfort her, the only way they had managed to calm her down was when her stepmother managed to get Percy on the phone and put him on speaker. They had been watching a tv show when the power went out and everything had gone dark and Annabeth was back in Tartarus and blind. It took a while but finally, Percy’s voice guided her to sleep, and by the time she woke up the next morning her dad was sleeping on the floor next to her bed. She knew they were going to have the conversation, the conversation that was due a few weeks ago when she dropped out of college after she passed out for the fifth time from exhaustion.
And that’s how she found herself in Crissy Field talking with her dad about the Giant War. She didn’t go into specifics about Tartarus, just told him enough to give him an idea, she knew he already knew something from phone calls with Sally Jackson. She also told him about how the world was facing a new possible apocalypse, but at least the fate of the world wasn’t on her and Percy’s shoulders anymore (she wasn’t happy the future of the world had been placed in the hands of a little girl, an ex-god, and Grover but she was a retired hero now and there was no energy left in her body to save the world again) It was one of the most difficult talks she had had in her life and it took her a lot of energy to do it. By the time she had finished and finally faced her dad he just looked…devastated, like if in the hours it took her to tell him everything he had aged at least 20 more years.
“Have….have you talked to someone about all of this?” Frederick finally asked after a few minutes of silence.
“Besides Percy? A little bit with Piper and Magnus.”
“And with a professional? This, this is too much Annabeth.” He sounded weak. “You have been carrying all of this by yourself for over a year now, it’s not- it’s not healthy.”
“Don’t you think I know it’s not healthy? I had to drop out of college because my body couldn’t handle it anymore.” Her tone was bitter, she was trying to hold back the irritation she was feeling against her father at that moment. “I know it’s not healthy…it’s just hard.”
“No you don’t, you don’t know how much it hurts.” Her eyes started to burn and she closed them, feeling tears starting to form, her vision was blurry when she opened her eyes again. “I’m afraid of the dark, sometimes I can’t stare at bonfires because if I look at them for enough time my brain starts going back to that place, my arachnophobia got worse, I didn’t even think that could be possible, sometimes my hair brushes my arm and it feels like spider webs and I forget how to breath.” She hugged herself and let her tears fall freely. “I’m tired, I’m scared and I want Percy but he is miles away and it hurts not being close to him but at the same time I hate I can’t get a good night of sleep if he is not beside me.”