Mental Health & Motherhood
It took me years to recognize that my struggles with mental and emotional health were not marks against me as a mother.
Topic: PTSD
It took me years to recognize that my struggles with mental and emotional health were not marks against me as a mother.
You don’t define trauma; your brain does it for you.
“I think you have PTSD.” There was silence in the office and my mind began to race.
Your brain has learned to equate yelling with violence, and your body has been trained to put up all defenses at the slightest sign of a raised voice, especially if that raised voice is paired with physical movement or close proximity.
Trauma is a fabric interwoven into your skin, something that stays long after you believe it to be gone.
We’re often seen as heroes, but we’re also human.
As with most veterans, I wear a mask.
I want to forget the past and move on. I want my head to quiet down. I want to be able to walk into a store or restaurant and not start to sweat and shake. I want to not be afraid to leave the house.
I never felt anger over her decision. From my own diagnosis of PTSD, I knew that much of what she did wasn’t her fault or entirely in her control.
We are soldiers in an invisible war few people can even begin to comprehend. We are warriors fighting countless battles each and every day. And even when it feels as if we’re losing, we keep going.
It was normal to think you were going to die when the dentist’s hook made a scraping noise against your tooth. To fall asleep in the ninth floor of a towering residence hall, listening to the wind while thinking the whole thing might topple like a house of cards, crushing you inside.
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