Dear Renisha: Turning Trauma Into Triumph

MY BREAKING POINT

Dear Renisha,

I've never fully recovered from my eating disorder. I struggle with this still today and it hasn't been easy. I still struggle to maintain a healthy weight. When I get overworked and so stressed out, I don't feel like anyone loves me. I feel so worthless sometimes. I started to think life would be easier for everyone if I didn't exist. I questioned my entire existence. What was the purpose of me going through so much BAD SHIT!!!! Food is the only thing I can control when my life feels like it's spiraling out of control.
As I hopelessly stared at the bottle of antidepressants wondering how many pills it would take to end my life.... I began to think to myself about how I wasn't meant to be someone's mother and I definitely wasn't meant to be anyone's girlfriend/wife. I no longer wanted to live this life. I felt as if nobody understood what I was going through let alone what all I had been through. I started to question my ability to be a mother to Aaliyah.
I told myself all the things I'd been told at the troubled teen homes. I didn't need Bill MacNamara or Jack Patterson to tell me I was worthless. I did that myself now: "Nobody would miss me. I was worthless." I would often think to myself how my birth mother probably should have just aborted me instead. "Why should I care about myself if no one else did?"  After a while, you start to believe what you say to yourself: "You're unlovable and worthless and incapable of receiving love." 
I sat there in the bath contemplating all the reasons why I should end my life, trying to justify it in my head when my 3 year old walked into the bathroom and handed me one of her Barbie dolls. She said, "Mommy, you play with my mermaid in the bath too?"
I fought back the tears, kissed her on cheek and gave her a hug and thanked her. She smiled ear to ear and went back to her room. I took a deep breath and the tears started flowing. How could I leave her alone? I thought about how much she would hate me for being selfish if I took my own life. Who would raise her? Who would protect her from the bad people? I remembered all the bad things that had happened to me as a child and I Just Knew I had to survive long enough for her to grow up. Nobody can protect her like I can. I just had to hang in for her.
Ugh, I hate crying. I hate feeling this way. I hated myself for letting myself feel that way. I felt so low and unworthy. I stood up and stepped out of the tub and flushed the whole bottle of Paxil down the toilet. I dried myself off and got dressed and then went into my daughter's bedroom, laid down on her bed and snuggled with her as she watched her favorite show, Dora. 
Little did I know that these thoughts would temporarily go away and come back over and over and over again. I became really good about hiding how I felt from others and faking a smile when I was not mentally okay. To say that I still don't have these thoughts would be a lie. Nobody likes feeling fucked up in the head. I just knew something wasn't right but didn't know how to ask for help. I was scared I would be locked away in a mental institution. I was scared of what would happen to my baby girl. The thought of her being raised by my Dustin alone frightened me. I started to think about all the horrible things that would be said about me and how my daughter would hate me. 
Depression sucks. You get in this funk and it's hard to get out of it. I was told depression isn't real and that I needed to just change my life. I've been asked by others why I was depressed. I couldn't explain to them, nor did I want to explain why I felt the way I did because I knew just by their comments alone, they wouldn't understand. I started to work more to keep myself busy so that I wouldn't think about ending my life. Little did I know I was making it worse by overwhelming myself with so much to do. My tank was on E and kept pushing myself as far as I could until I would explode. I started sleeping more with the little free time I had.
Sleep was good. I didn't feel anything. My problems were not there when I slept.  Until, I had my first nightmare. Dustin frantically woke me up. "Wake up, Babe!" he shouted.  He jumped out of bed flipping on the light, too scared to touch me. I awakened disoriented, gasping for air. I looked at him as he sat down on the bed. He hugged me. Kissed my forehead and said, "I don't know who you were fighting but, baby, you were winning. You hit me in the face...hard. I woke up like, 'What the fuck did I do?'"
I cried and apologized and explained I had a dream that I was being taken back to the girls home. And I was fighting them off of me. I continue to have nightmares about my time in the troubled teen industry. Apparently, I cry in my sleep, yell, kick, scream, and hit my spouse. My daughter has even had to wake me up from me having a nightmare.  I decided to seek help from a psychiatrist and was diagnosed with Complex PTSD.
Complex PTSD is diagnosed in adults or children who have repeatedly experienced traumatic events, such as violence, neglect or abuse. Complex PTSD is thought to be more severe if: the traumatic events happened early in life and/or if the trauma was caused by a parent or caregiver, or if the person experienced the trauma for a long period of time.