I have a notebook. It's a very pretty notebook. It's pink, faux leather, with a pretty pink ribbon for a bookmark. In gold foil on the cover, in a beautiful script, are 5 small words. "and she never gave up". The first word does not begin with an uppercase letter, there is no period at the end, just a heart. The writer in me fancies that this is because it is meant to be in the middle of something bigger than itself. When I bought the notebook I knew what I wanted it for. It was to be a journal of sorts. I had just left my daughters father, I was living in a new town with a new job and my daughter was in a new school. Thirteen years of trauma and abuse and fear for my life were finally over. And those 13 years came directly after my traumatic childhood. For the first time ever, I was free. Or so I thought. I was so determined to fill this book with my new life. I was determined to be that girl who kept a diary because for once in my life I had privacy. I had a life I could write about rather than hide from everyone I knew. I failed to realize that this part, the part right after the trauma, is not it being over. No. This part is the part where I heal. And two years later, I am learning that healing does not begin immediately. And it is painful. When I finally got around to using my pretty pink notebook I realized that it was not going to be a diary. This was going to be my recovery. Those 5 little words gained so much meaning that day.
I write in my pretty pink notebook often. Not regularly, and not in any specific order. When I can't sleep, or when I am overwhelmed by a realization or memory, I write. I want to share with you an excerpt from my notebook, one of many I will share I am sure. This one is what I wrote the day I realized recovering from mental trauma is exactly like recovering from physical trauma.
(No Date. I'm not a very good journal-er.)
"Breaking your brain, going through the severe trauma I went through, is much like breaking yourself physically. When you have surgery, you are not instantly healed. You may have addressed the problem, but recovery takes time. Healing is painful as well. When you have trust issues, abandonment issues, you aren't always aware. When it does dawn on you, it is overwhelming. It's painful. It makes me angry. Angry for what was done to me. Angry for the fact that even removed from the trauma, I am dealing with the fall out, reminders of what was. I am left accepting that what happened to me has changed me. It has also left me to wonder how long the changes brought on by trauma will last until they are replaced by changes brought on by the healing."
But the beauty here, is that I know there will be changes brought on by the healing. It is an unspeakable feeling, to look at your past 13 years, to look at your past 30 years, and to see that 30 years of trauma has ended. To see that the trauma, those 30 years were just a chapter, and it has finally ended. To see that I did in fact break the cycle of violence.
and she never gave up