The Lotus Blooms in Mud

I have written a few posts, but I have not posted them lately. It is not only on this blog that I have been neglectful of my need for reflection, I have been having a difficult time in general with this.  I can blame my busy schedule, my high stress level, triggers from the current state of the world around me, or any other number of reasons. It doesn't truly matter why I haven't been doing it, it simply matters that I haven't been. Part of dealing with my PTSD and overcoming my Adverse Childhood Experiences is that I need to reflect. I am attempting to discover myself after a lifetime of abuse and gaslighting. Being creative and writing is a vital part of who I am, and it is one thing that I completely stopped doing for a while. It isn't that I don't want to, it's that I often feel a sense of trying to survive rather than being able to live. At the first of the year I began bullet journaling. I use my bullet journal as both a calendar and a tracker. I ha...

Post partum depression is supposed to mean you don't bond with your baby, you have thoughts of hurting your baby, or in many tragic cases you do hurt your baby, right? That's the post partum we hear about. We read shocking headlines about women drowning their babies or tales from our friends who know someone who thought about shaking their baby to death before she finally got help. We are told to try and understand these mothers. We are told that we need to raise awareness so that these mothers seek the help they need. But post partum depression is not always anger or difficulty bonding; it can look very different I learned. "There's no way I have post partum depression", I kept saying to myself. I knew that I would never hurt my baby, I loved her, I wanted her, and I never got angry with her no matter how much she cried or how tired I was. So obviously I couldn't have post partum depression. I was wrong. From the day I found out I was pregnant I worr...

I feel guilty. Especially when I was told that I had ptsd. Me? I haven't had a great life, but certainly it wasn't bad enough to develop ptsd. Yes, I have experienced many traumas, and yes, I am one of the many adults who have to recover from their childhood rather than being able to look back upon it fondly. But others have had it worse. I feel embarrassed to be diagnosed with ptsd because compared to many others it was really not that bad for me. There is one very special person who was in my life who I think of whenever I feel like my traumas have been too much to bear. I don't feel it's appropriate to use children's real names in my writing, so I'll affectionately call her Bluejeans. She was of the Muslim faith and wore a hihab, but where as the other Muslim girls wore long skirts or dresses she wore blue jeans every single day because, and I quote "mother hates it and I think that's funny". Teachers are not supposed to pick favorites, but...

There is an old saying, that you can't judge a person's actions until you've walked a mile in their moccasins. I believe in always trying to see other people's perspectives and trying not to judge. However, there's one thing I have always judged people harshly for, and that is getting rid of pets. I've always had pets in my life. My grandfather was by biggest influence when it came to animals. He was an old farmer, and he had the highest respect for non-human animals, be they wildlife, livestock and pets. He taught me that when you bring a cat or a dog into your home they become family. Family isn't just dropped off at a shelter or abandoned on the side of a country road when they are no longer convenient. Cats and dogs are family members. I'll admit that I can see rehoming certain pets: hamsters, fish, lizards... these critters don't care where they live as long as they are safe, clean, and well fed. Dogs and cats are far more sensitive and t...

While I was still with my husband I read an article about single married mothers. The article discussed two viewpoints, one about the challenges of being a mother whose husband works a lot or is in the military and the other stating that the true challenge is actually being a single mother. I remember immediately identifying as a single married mother, and feeling unashamed that it may offend some actual single mothers. The problem is that I didn't identify as one of the women whose loving husband was overseas or who works long or strange hours. In fact I couldn't understand their point of view at all. I had become the woman whose husband was often gone 120 hours a week or more, but  both for work and also for time to enjoy his affairs. Family was not a priority. He was the priority.  When he was home we never knew whether he would be in a good mood and act as the goofy playmate that we enjoyed being around or the angry person we feared. I kept hoping it would get ...

I have a baby daughter who was called a mistake. It breaks my heart and those words often replay over and over in an inescapable loop for me. Sometimes I just hold her and sob. I never want her to feel as unwanted as I grew up feeling. She's certainly no mistake to me, she is the beautiful rainbow after a tremendously bad storm. My pregnancy with my beautiful rainbow was terrifying and lonely. Though I had desperately wanted more children for many years, she was a surprise. I say surprise because surprises may be unexpected and sometimes even scary, but they are good. You walk into a dark room and your loved ones jump out with smiling faces screaming "SURPRISE!" and even though it startled you enough to make you jump back and gasp for air you end up smiling and laughing with joy. Surprise, not mistake. Mistakes are not only unexpected, they are unwanted, they are things you wish didn't happen. My little rainbow is no mistake, and no matter what I do I cannot con...

I've never liked the negative attention that being a victim brings. That tilt of the head, the wrinkled forehead over sad eyes, and the half frown/half apologetic smile that people give you when they find out you've been through something traumatic. The sigh and the "are you ok?" nauseates me and even the most heartfelt "it will be alright" sounds condescending.  Knowing that I've now become the "I know a person who..." in people's stories when tragedies are brought into a conversation is embarrassing. Having friends be afraid to vent about or share their personal issues without saying "I know it isn't as bad as your situation" is painful. Even worse is when those people who actually thrive on the drama and attention of being a victim suddenly have to one-up you every time you share a trauma you've been through. I just personally don't feel comfortable being the center of attention for negative things. I w...