I want to escape.
Escape my thoughts.
Escape the fear.
I want to wake up and actually see a beautiful sunrise that actually makes me feel.
I want to feel.
I need to feel.
I need to wake up.
It's not something I can ask for.
The guilt consumes my thoughts, controls my sentences.
I carefully walk past the person who put me in harm's way, trying my hardest to not be seen.
It fails, obviously.
And just like that, I feel the harsh blue eyes staring through me, starting at me, bringing back all of the memories.
I can feel the anxiety approaching & enveloping me into its' grasp.
"Casey, are you ready for this?"
3, 2, 1: panic.
My brain starts triggering the thoughts that I've tried so desperately to suppress. I can feel the paranoia and the fear getting closer and closer to my chest. I can feel my breathing patterns changing and I can feel the tears welling up in my eyes. Every single word he said to me, every single desperate attempt to take me home every single night. I guess I must live in some fantasy land for assuming that "no" actually meant no.
I didn't actually know it at the moment but this would be one of the encounters that would be too much for me to handle. I didn't even realize that tears were steaming down my face and I was running as fast as I could, out of the building. It hit me all of a sudden, as I was picking up the pace and running even faster. My breathing was shaky, I felt my throat trying to close up on me. It felt like breathing was virtually impossible. All of a sudden, I stopped running. I stood in the middle of an empty road, hoping a vehicle would come by and ultimately, smash my body into the concrete. At that moment, I knew that he had won: what he did to me had made me feel like I deserved to die.
"If I would have been a stronger person, I would have been able to handle this situation in a different way. If I would have fought back more, maybe I could have made an escape. This was happening to me but I still felt like it was my fault. I was destined to be hurt. The reason I was brought into this world was to feel the way that I do right now. I do not deserve a good life that's got meaning. I do not deserve to smile. I do not deserve to be happy. I do not deserve to fall in love with someone else who's love is reciprocated. I am not worthy of that or any of the things that a normal girl wants."
These thoughts started screaming into my soul. It was an unsettling feeling to constantly be reminded of what happened to you, when you had to walk past him every single day, when you had to be in the same building with the person that ultimately made your PTSD more aggressive. People who witnessed this occuring to me for months couldn't be bothered to open their mouths and ultimately save me. They could tell me to my face that it wasn't right, that I didn't deserve it but when the time came to actually take action, no one said a word. And most people would think, "Why didn't YOU do or say something?" It's actually not as easy as you'd think. You see, when a person is already suffering with mental health issues, they already feel like a burden. They already feel as if they're inconveniencing everyone around them, like what they're going through isn't valid enough to speak about. When you're so afraid to say anything to anyone, the only option you feel you have is to hold it all inside. You can do that pretty successfully for awhile with plenty of practice, I found out personally. Instead of telling the ones around me how I felt, I took the aggression out on someone else: on myself. I screamed, I hit my head against brick walls, to the point of blacking out. My purpose behind it was hopefully knocking myself out to the point where I didn't remember the trauma I had faced. All I wanted to do was forget it. All I wanted was to act like nothing ever happened, like it was just an insane thought.
The reality is, I couldn't ignore it. I couldn't fake it. I couldn't pretend that I was okay anymore. But I tried my absolute hardest to hide it around everyone else. I could feel the pressure weighing down on my chest and on my lungs. It felt like someone had filled up a pillow case with bricks and repeatedly dropped in on my chest, with full force over and over again. I could feel the pressure of those bricks so heavily, I felt like I was actually bleeding out. I thought it was the end. I thought my life had abruptly came to a stop. I felt relief. I felt like no one ever had to hear my name or see my face ever again. Back to reality, I came. I was still breathing. I was still alive. I wasn't dead. I wasn't close to death. I was still managing. Even though it wasn't easy, I was still continuing to live this life. It was ultimately the bravest thing I had done so far or would ever do in my entire lifetime. I think that the bravest thing a person could do was continue to live, when all that they wanted to do was die. And I was doing that. It's not easy, but I am here. I am still here.
