If you're reading this, you likely know me. If you know me well, you likely also know that my solution to just about every problem is to pretend that it doesn't exist. Don't ask me about it. I don't want to talk about it. I'm fine. I'll be okay. Let's move on.
That defense mechanism worked really, really well for me. Up until it didn't.
It was around this time last year that the #metoo movement started to pick up steam. At first it was just a couple of tweets here and there - individuals voicing their horrifying truths. And then all of the sudden it was an avalanche. My news feed was made up entirely of women's stories detailing their abuse, trauma, and PTSD symptoms. I took them in like an addict. I had to read every. single. one. Through sobs I reluctantly clicked on link after link, paying close attention to the comments. Reading words from the victim blamers and shamers as if they were speaking directly to me. Each word piling on top of my chest until I could barely breathe. I couldn't stop.
And just like that, the pretty facade I had spent 2.5 years building had completely imploded.
The next six months of my life would be the absolute worst I had ever experienced. My body completely turned against me - a new physical symptom of my PTSD popping up so regularly that I was visiting my doctor every other week. Multiple prescriptions. Acupuncture. Acupressure. Three hours of therapy a week. I was fighting like hell when at the time it felt like I was doing nothing but merely existing.
I know it's been a while. I've been quiet. But I've been rebuilding. I'm not "healed." But I'm better than I was a year ago.
Anyways, the point is - I'm not going anywhere. So if you thought you had escaped my passionate and frequently politically polarizing posts (alliteration totally intended), then I am so not sorry to disappoint you. Because I'm back and I'm swinging, baby.
