Things can be going really well and my past can sometimes feel like it’s so far away. My mind has blotted more and more out the further my life has diverged from how it used to be. If not for the flashbacks, I would sometimes even wonder if I imagined it all. I no longer live in constant fear of an explosive reaction or have to arm myself in preparation for a barrage of slurs and insults. No longer do I have to hide my authentic self. I am free to be me and to live my life on my terms.
Sudden flashbacks
Then suddenly and unexpectedly, an emotional flashback can hit, and I can be instantaneously enveloped in a confusing wave of despair and self-hatred. It happened yesterday, in fact. I was chatting with a friend, when all of a sudden, I felt an overwhelming need to immediately flee from the conversation. I felt inexplicably exposed, raw, weak and flawed and not worthy of my friend’s attention or time. It started with a feeling of not being like everyone else, of being broken. That led to the dark place; the one where I am a worthless and sorry excuse for a human being and deserve to be alone.
Healed wounds?
During this moment, I found myself examining my legs. I noted with a weird sense of horror that the scars have pretty much healed now. I could barely see them anymore. It felt like all outside proof of my inside hurt had disappeared and I was the only one who knew. It reminded me of how I used to go to school, hiding my inner turmoil, pretending to everyone that I was normal and that I was fine. No one ever noticed I was breaking on the inside. I was invisible. No one saw me.
My mind went to a place it hasn’t for a while now. I contemplated making new scars. It was like I needed to show people that no, I’m not strong or brave or “fine”. The actual truth is, I was badly hurting. Yet I was completely invisible. I desperately, longed for someone to see me and acknowledge me.
People mostly don’t see the emotional wounds, unless you have some kind of pathology that makes you prominently “act out” so to speak. Scars are tangible proof. You can run your fingers over someone’s healed injuries and imagine the pain of it taking place. It’s so much harder to imagine invisible wounds, especially when you have no idea how deep they go.
Afraid of intimacy
I was born into this world trusting and affectionate. However, experience taught me to be cautious and fearful. Telling someone I love them fills me with trepidation, even now. For me it’s akin to standing before them, handing them an array of knives and giving them permission to use them at any time. All I can do is desperately hope that my trust hasn’t been misplaced. Yet I’m always braced for betrayal. It’s what I expect.
As a child I was told I was loved. But love meant accepting any treatment I was subjected to. I had no way to escape, no place to go. My only choice was to survive. The way I did that was shutting down the parts of myself that yearned for compassion, tenderness and gentleness. My role was to please others as best as I could in order to avoid wrath. I’ve read that child abuse permanently alters your brain. Part of me cries for the person I might be now, had I not grown up the way I did. The lost me.
Emotional flashbacks
I can recognise a flashback now, because logically the feelings that overwhelm me are completely out of proportion to what has happened or been said. The problem is, it is often only afterwards that I grasp what happened and can rationalize it. While it is actually occurring I am still taken to that place of emotional overwhelm. It’s a lonely and scary place to be. I used to think I was crazy. It was only when I found out about complex PTSD and what it was that I learned that emotional flashbacks like these are normal.
I am glad to live in this age, where information and knowledge is so easily available. I think even a few decades ago, so many people suffered in silence. Maybe they never realised that they were having a normal reaction to an adverse situation. Maybe they never accepted that none of it was their fault and that they weren’t deserving of such treatment. It wasn’t a result of their lack of worth. It was unfair and it was wrong. But it wasn’t their fault.