It’s time the truth comes out. I say this because I can’t do it on my own and need to be held accountable. As I’ve stated in a previous post, I stopped using drugs November 21, 2017 after 35 years of heavy non stop daily use.

When I stopped using, all the memories and the trauma that I had been repressing for so long came welling up out of me and I didn’t know how to deal with it at all. I was already in therapy but it was still too much for me to bear. I was in and out of the mental hospital because I was extremely suicidal. That’s all I could think about. I didn’t feel like I deserved to live. I was tainted. Some of the things I was forced to be a part of and participate in, no human, let alone a little child, should ever have to endure. I was defeated, broken and ashamed.

I did several weeks of a partial hospitalization program learning different skills like DBT, CBT, mindfulness and distractions to help deal with the flood of memories. I started journaling every single memory and passed it on to my therapist to hopefully set me free of the pain and the burden of holding it all inside of me. But nothing seemed to work. The more I tried to let go the more it seemed to grasp hold of me. I don’t know if perhaps I was afraid to let go because these are my secrets and they are what make me me. I don’t even know if that really makes sense at all to anyone but me. Perhaps I feel like I would lose my sense of identity if I let go. I honestly don’t know.

I managed to stay clean for 6 months. 6 months of grueling flashbacks, nightmares and panic attacks. Until I couldn’t take it anymore and I started drinking and using again. But in my broken brain it was okay Because I didn’t go back to my drug of choice. I decided to use something much worse. I picked up heroin. I went from just trying it to full on withdrawals if I didn’t have it.

I broke down a few weeks later and told my therapist. She recommended I do detox and rehab. Which I did. 7 days detox and 14 days in residential treatment. I was proud to be clean again. Then it started all over again. The flashbacks, nightmares and panic attacks. This time I tried to ignore the memories. I stuffed them in my “vault” and locked them in.

I was amazed, it seemed to have worked!! I was clean and I was trauma free. I was starting to actually feel like a normal human being. That awesome feeling lasted about a month until the vault broke open and the nightmares began again.

Perhaps out of weakness or laziness or just plain old defeat I picked up my drug of choice again. Everything went back to my status quo. I’m no longer suicidal. No more nightmares, flashbacks or panic attacks. My therapist said I was starting to stabilize. All is good, right? Wrong!

Now my health is deteriorating again. My blood pressure is off the charts. If I keep it up I’ll have a stroke. My kidneys are failing again. I’m having palpitations regularly. My CHF is acting up again and I’m swelling up with water.

I need to STOP and I’m too afraid to!!! If I don’t stop I will die. If I don’t deal with my trauma, it makes me suicidal and I will die. I need help. I’m afraid of my past and afraid of my memories. I somehow need to muster the courage to face it all head on. It’s time for me to stop running and hiding from it and deal with it.

I know I can stop using,, that doesn’t seem to be the issue. what I need help with is facing my trauma. What has helped you guys face your trauma? How did you face your trauma without losing control? How did you get the PTSD symptoms under control?


I’ve been really struggling coping lately and maintaining a sense of security. I’ve been self loathing and hating. Basically internalizing all my rage and anger and directing it towards myself. I’ve been too tired of the fighting to carry on. Tired of the daily battle of existence. I’ve been blaming myself for the trauma I experienced. I should have fought harder to try and stop it or not stopped trying to get help by telling people what was happening until someone listened to me. I shouldn’t have worried about what others thought and shamed myself into silence. These thoughts have been tearing me up inside. All the what- ifs and should have, could have and would haves. It’s very hard for me to stop this negative thinking once it has spiraled out of control. Sadly, yet fortunately, in my group therapy today, there was a new girl to the group and she was talking about the struggles she is facing at this current moment. It kind of helped me put my pain into perspective. Fortunately mine is past pain and trauma that I’m finally starting to deal with which is hard all on its own, but I’m not experiencing current issues along with it. I guess what I’m trying to say is, sometimes it takes someone else’s pain and sorrow to help put ours into perspective and dig ourselves out of the hole we put ourselves in.

In Crisis

I’m in the midst of a crisis right now. I’m hoping talking about it might alleviate some of my symptoms. I’m not to sure starting a blog was the best thing for me to do, yet anyways. It has stirred up alot of raw emotions and wounds that haven’t healed yet. All day today I have been plagued with horrendous memories and flashbacks. The visual won’t stop. It’s a movie that won’t stop playing in my head. It’s like it’s really happening. I see it, I hear it and I am even recalling any smells that went along with it. I’ve tried all the skills I’ve learned so far being in therapy to make it stop and nothing is working. It’s so bad, it feels like my brain is going to shatter into millions of pieces. I can’t continue much longer like this. I’ve made the decision to go to the emergency room so they can help me. I really don’t want to be hospitalized again but I can’t live like this either

Nightmares and PTSD

It’s 1:45 in the morning. Another night of waking up in pure terror. I’m dripping with sweat. My heart is pounding. My face is streaked with tears. I’m terrified! How much longer will I have to endure reliving the past? I feel like I should be past this by now. I have accepted what happened to me. I know it can’t hurt me anymore. I can’t change it and I know this. What more do I need to do to move on? Will I ever be able to move on? I think that is what scares me the most. I don’t want to live in the past. I want to forget. I want to wake up, just once, feeling completely rested and not tortured by memories. So I push forward. I face another day. Another day of wearing a mask so I look and sound okay on the outside. Hiding the terror and pain. I’m trying to heal and recover and I’ve made tremendous progress which I’m grateful for. I was a complete disaster a year ago. Barely functioning. A lost soul walking among the living. I had been using drugs the last 35 years to forget, to keep the trauma buried deep inside. I got clean November 21, 2017. I had no idea that the memories would come crashing over me like a Tsunami. I thought I was going crazy. I wasn’t sure I could survive the trauma again. But I did. It hasn’t been easy, in fact dealing with it has been the hardest thing I’ve ever done. But I know deep down every day I get one step closer to freedom and recovery. All I know is I have to keep trying. Keep telling myself this to shall pass

Trauma Survivor

I’m a survivor of childhood trauma. I was continually tortured and abused from the ages of 2-14. I don’t want to go into specific detail, as it is still hard for me to open up and talk about, but I am working on it.

When the abuse first started, I didn’t realize that this wasn’t normal. It started at such a young age that I didn’t know any better. I didn’t know yet that there were things such as right and wrong. I thought this happened to all little girls. I first realized something was wrong when it no longer was just my primary care-taker doing it, but his friends too. I have vivid memories of being passed around a large room. When they didn’t want to be bothered with me I would be put in a crate, no bigger than a footlocker, for hours and sometimes even over night.

I was ritualistically abused, gang abused, animals were forced on me. There didn’t seem to be an end to the sick and twisted things they came up with. I was horrified daily by the games that they would come up with to amuse themselves and to degrade me even more.

Before my 6th birthday I had already attempted suicide. I didn’t want to continue living if this is what life was supposed to look like. I dreaded waking up each morning. The thought of what I had to endure that day would make me sick to my stomach. I couldn’t cry anymore and it didn’t help anyways. I basically shut down. I somehow removed myself from the situation. I lived in my head where it was safe. Where I couldn’t be harmed and where no one could hurt me. The more I withdrew into myself the worse the abuse got. They liked seeing me in pain and miserable. When they didn’t get a reaction out of me they would get mad and the abuse escalated.

I resigned myself over to whatever they were going to do. I would look forward to being put in the crate. It was my escape. I learned to act up and be mean, the worse I acted the longer I would be placed in the crate, or so I thought. I turned into a mean and evil little child. Unloved and unwanted. But that’s all I knew. My idea of love was when I was touched gently instead of roughly. Happiness was isolation. I was so miserable.

I was introduced to drugs around 7 or 8. It quickly turned into my escape. I loved being high, whether it be speed, weed, cocaine. It didn’t matter. It was the one and only thing that took my pain and misery away. Anybody could do anything they wanted to me so long as I was high. That was the start of a 35 year drug addiction. It got me through those miserable years.

As I write this I am being overwhelmed with emotions . Sadness and grief for this poor lost little girl, Anger and rage towards the people that allowed it to happen. Bittereness at God for putting me in this world. But, I survived. I SURVIVED!