On Facebook, you can look at old posts, which I did tonight.
I was looking at photos of my boys, enjoying seeing the photos of them younger, of my youngest as a baby. It was lovely remembering those lovely times.
As I was scrolling through, from 3, 4, 5, 6 years ago, I was struck by how positive and happy my written posts were. Very different, to how I feel and what I write now.
I’ve always made the most of my life. Always had so much energy, had fun whenever and wherever I could, always looked to the positive.
At the age of 20, I vowed to make the most of my life, because I knew how important freedom was, after being in captivity.
I worked hard, played hard, was kind to everyone, did things I shouldn’t have done, but tried really hard to have fun, be happy, and make the most out of life.
I had so much energy and zest for life. And even though there was that underlying pain, underlying aloneness, I tried so hard to ignore it and just make the best and most out of life in everything I did. I functioned highly most of the time and despite insomnia and other issues, I did most things to a high ability.
I gave life my all.
Since the PTSD hit hard in 2012, my life changed dramatically.
I am no longer that person I was. I no longer take risks or want to be friends with people, in fact I can’t even get out the door without anxiety and rash’s.
I no longer have energy, I am exhausted all the time.
I am not happy anymore. I am filled with PTSD, struggle, too much understanding about life, too much grieving of all I suppressed, too many memories and anxiety about the dark sides of life.
I am not remotely recognisable to the person I used to be.
I have changed drastically and I no longer view life as good, as fun as positive.
That fun, positive girl, with such zest for life, who made life as good as she could and was happy, has died. She’s gone.
I am no longer anything like the person I used to be, who wrote so many posts on Facebook, with so much life within her.
During the last 2 years, having to deal with my past, severe PTSD, all the abuse, come to terms with what my family were, how much harm I had suppressed, and then deal with more harm on top, has killed that fun girl I used to be.
That girl has gone.
And been replaced with a deeply hurt, fearful, cynical, grieving, sad woman, who is the opposite of everything she ever wanted to be.