WHAT A DREAM : PTSD

PTSD

PTSD
#whatadream

"It makes no sense trying to pretend I'm not affected by this," I told my mom, confident that she'll understand where I'm coming from...Yeah I'm kidding, I never even told her how I felt. It'll just add another burden to her list. By the way, she has seven burdens, flat! Yeah, it gets like that, because parents' number one priority is their children. I don't want my mom feeling like she's doing a bad job when it's the complete opposite. I play my part by staying out of the way, and handling my problems away from home. I find it easier drowning in my own sorrows than sinking the entire ship.

I've been coping with this issue on my own for months. I'm too young to understand the catalyst to my problems, but I have a few ideas of what it could be. No; it isn't about a cheating ex, even though I have a list, and it isn't about the video. It's been a few weeks since that fight anyway, so I'd know if it played a role in this situation. I've been trying to keep my mind off these things but they replay in my head like a movie. I don't know what there is to gain from writing this, but I'm hoping someone can understand what it's like to feel lost.

Where I am now, I feel like it's best not to make a move. I decided that I'm taking a break from social media. I question sometimes where this mindset will get me, but I'm too focused on where these situations led me in the past. I wasn't your average kid; I didn't fit in anywhere so I was in my own head a lot. There was always love around me, but it's hard to see it as a kid taking outside judgement to the heart.

I started to see things for the way they were, but I still struggled with accepting it. It's fair to say I spend more time running away from things rather than facing them. Fear could be the catalyst of my problems now that I think of it. I've been moving around with my guard up for as long as I could remember. Having my guard made me no different from everyone else, but we're all doomed, and no one's REALLY prepared.

I know that I have to separate my meaning of fear from reality. I questioned if I was being a little dramatic...then if I wasn't dramatic enough. What if I've been letting my experiences eat me up all this time and couldn't tell? Before I begin thinking too much, I snap myself out of it because I don't know what's safe to believe. Where did all my hope go?

I remember looking forward to the Summer of 2016, as well as everyone else. School let out, kids were up under fire hydrants, my dad had food cooking on the grill, there was nothing out of the ordinary. It was on the last day of school where I lost that attachment I had with Summer. No one really bothered to come to school so I can speed this story up. I went to the park with a few friends after school, to release the nine months of built up stress. Yeah, I'm talking about GAS! You could smell the shit from across the park, but I wasn't smoking it, even though it'd seem like it.

Everyone around me either smoked, drank, or was a single mother, there was just no way around it. I realized around that time that things are going to be different. We're constantly growing, and we're experiencing the good and bad things to help shape us into better people. What was so hard to understand about that? For me, it wasn't enough to understand, no, I feel that I'm being forced to accept what happened in those next five minutes.

I sat for a while talking about my plans for the Summer, even though I had about none. The ones I had didn't even matter anymore after that day. I'm used to the feeling that something bad is going to happen, but I wanted to believe otherwise when I got the feeling that day. I talked on and on so that it could override my fear. I may have come off as annoying then, but these were the people I felt the safest with. They all had their own stories, and they weren't always perfect either; whether it was about one's boyfriend, or the other's family problems.

Aside from how often me and my friends bore each other, there was nothing they couldn't share with me. I hoped that I could say the same. I was feeling a lot of pressure because I knew the way things were going to be moving towards 10th grade. These people may not even remember me. I went on thinking that the time we were spending after school was forced. In fact, if it wasn't for the bad things, we'd hate each other's guts.