Traumatic experiences can be scary.
Well yes, obviously. That’s expected. Nothing traumatizing can ever be considered rainbows and butterflies. And the weird and unfair thing about trauma is that literally ANYTHING can rub you in every single wrong way and it can scar you for life.
I’ve never really spoken to anyone in depth about the recent traumatic experiences I’ve had within the past three weeks. And although I’ve spoken to a few, I’m still in this place where I feel as though I’m holding a lot of things in. I think that could possibly be because I am yet to understand what triggered these immensely terrifying panic attacks and why the intensity of these attacks have impacted on me so heavily.
Have you ever experienced fear of the unknown?
That’s what I’m experiencing. I’m scared that there’s some underlying issue that has resurfaced its ugly head and I’ll have no idea what it is or how to eradicate it like the little pesky vermin it is.
So now, I’m here. Riddled with fear. On my toes… Ready for any minor and/or major inconvenience to send me spiraling back into sleepless nights, spent crying my eyes out and wishing I were dead because the burden of my mental illness isn’t worth living through anymore, which usually followed me pinning cat-related pins on Pinterest or binge watching Bojack Horseman. Those two things calm me.
Trauma can come in any form. It can come shaped as abuse from a loved one. Having a near death experience. Being heartbroken in the worst of ways by someone you gave every aspect of your being to.
And sometimes a simple trigger can send us back into that dark abyss we’ve been spending years to climb out of.
Sigh. Trauma’s wild.