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I don’t know what everybody’s motives are… does anyone genuinely have my best interest at heart? I think my mom does. I don’t know about anyone else. It is very conflicting, not knowing who to trust, who is safe, who you can talk to… 

And talking is super hard because I don’t know how to talk, and if I suddenly feel the need to, I don’t know who to talk to.

Yes, I have a therapist, and I talk to her… but I don’t talk to anyone else- anyone who is supposed to know me and care about me.

I struggle with PTSD, anxiety disorders, eating disorders, and depression. I can say that. But then I can’t go into it. I can’t figure out how to discuss in depth what is going on in my head, because then I become a burden; a nuisance, troubled, a bad egg… and bad eggs get thrown out. I don’t want to be abandoned. I don’t want to be difficult or too much — as that is what I have been told I am in the past. 

Oh but then you can come around and say, “Who cares what anybody else thinks?” 

Right.

Who cares? 

I care.

How could I not care?

People don’t KNOW me, because I won’t show them.

 

My problem is I will overshare to strangers on the internet or in public places, like the airport, but I won’t share with the ones who tell me they love me.

Why?

Because what if they don’t love me anymore?

What if it’s all too much for them, and I have too many demons screaming from inside my mind, that they all pick up and walk away… As they should, because they should protect their peace from my torment. 

I was raped, and sexually assaulted, and I have Post Traumatic Stress Disorder from it. Something can trigger it, like a movement, or a sentence, and I completely shut down. I get afraid. I am not safe.

It isn’t pretty. It is a side of me I don’t want to show anyone.

I feel guilty for losing control in front of my brother. I feel guilty for going into panic mode in front of my boyfriend. I am embarrassed and ashamed and guilt ridden for having these attacks, shutting down, and waking up minutes later with tears running down my cheeks, unable to breathe. The logical side of my brain is shouting, telling me that it isn’t my fault, I have nothing to be ashamed of… I am not my trauma, etc. 

But then I look at their faces, and they look at me with fear. Or maybe it was an annoyance? Because I inconvenienced them. 

Their party had to stop, because I fell to the ground, hysterically crying. 

My brother couldn’t hug me because I was trying to fight him, because I thought he was going to hurt me. 

We stopped what we were doing because I couldn’t calm down, and I left him sitting alone, confused and annoyed.

An inconvenience. Who would want to hang out with an inconvenience.

And then there’s the anxiety… the paranoia and the what ifs…

I hate getting into Ubers. I hate getting into somebody else’s car, because what if they aren’t as careful as I am, what if they text and drive, what if they are reckless… and they turn too quickly, and then it’s over. And what if I survive, and they are dead? How do I live with THAT burden?

I constantly think that everyone is mad at me. 

Silence didn’t bother me, I liked it. I liked that shared silence – when we could just be doing our own thing in the same room… 

But now, if we aren’t talking, if it is quiet,  red sirens are going off in my head. 

They are mad. They are mad. They are mad. And it’s at you.

I constantly feel the need to ask for reassurance.

“Are you mad at me?”

“Are we okay?”

“Are you happy with me?”

Even if I have done nothing wrong.

I am so afraid that I am being manipulated by everyone in my life; my mother, my father, my boyfriend, my friends… Just because I was manipulated in the past. So, I have this anxiety. Who can I trust? Who is safe? Who has the best intentions toward me?

These thoughts run marathons in my head all day. It is as exhausting as it sounds.

Am I rational? Completely. 

My crazy only comes out when I write. 

I get lost in my thoughts and my fingers glide over the keys and just type out every sentence that my brain can think of. 

I have these thoughts all the time. 

I think I am going to die. 

I sit in bed and I bawl my eyes out because; 

1. The plane is going to go down and my mom will be sad.

2. Who is going to walk me down the aisle at my wedding?

3. I didn’t tell my sister I was going home for fall break.

4. Does he even want to be with me?

5. There is no point.

Oh it’s so depressing. I hate myself for it. I hate myself. I hate her. 

Her mind, her body, I hate her.

And I am sitting here, now on a Wednesday morning, at 10:03, a week after beginning this, and I am writing all of these terrible, irrational thoughts that I have….

And yes, of course I can acknowledge that they are irrational. Because people have told me that they are.

“You are so smart, so talented, so beautiful, so loved…”

While I can appreciate the statement, I don’t believe it. Sometimes I genuinely think that I am told these things so that I don’t go batshit crazy, excuse my language.

I want to go home. 

I like my classes. They are interesting and engaging, but I also want to drop out of school.

I won’t!

Of course I won’t. I am more than halfway there.

And my mom is proud of me.

I don’t think my family knows me. Either side. Mom’s side, or Dad’s side. 

I don’t think I want them to know me. 

I feel bad, maybe I don’t know them either… But from what I can see, they’re so successful and smart, and having fun, and off to college and living in the city…

But then maybe that’s what they see for me too, and maybe I’ll just leave it at that. 

I am rational. I can think clearly, except for when I am irrational. But I know when I am being irrational. I know when my mental disorders have engulfed me… I can even say it.

“I am having PTSD right now”. 

“I am having a panic attack right now.”

“I am sad.”

“No I don’t get on a scale, that causes more harm than good for me.”

Oh yes, I am very aware. 

I know most of my triggers; bread, sex, manipulation, etc.

That wasn’t funny. 

Maybe it is a little funny.

No it’s not…

I am independent, empathetic, relatively level-headed, and over sensitive. 

I am wise to a seventeen year old, and an idiot to a Republican. 

I am slow to the joke, and most things go over my head.

I can calculate the tip on a bill in my head, and I know how to engage and interact with strangers.

But I am so insecure. 

I feel so bad for anyone who gets involved with me.

It gets to the point where I annoy myself. 

Like, shut up, already.

I just want to apologize to everyone all the time.

With all that being said… this has been the weirdest Her Campus submission that I’ve ever done, it also isn’t a poem, which is very different from my normal agenda.

However, this entry is so personal, so scattered, and so raw… I still think I am going to publish it… Because I know I am not the only person to feel this way, and my heart goes out to other people that feel lost, trapped, conflicted, confused, sad, and scared. I also know that with all my disparity, confusion, and trauma, I am still okay. I push on, I am alive and kicking. I am strong. I have learned from my experiences, and hope to help or to teach others.

If you are looking for a community to talk about your personal experiences and be validated, and not feel alone, please look into findyourlighthouse.com

Lighthouse Lite is a support group in which you can sign up and take classes and listen to speakers, or just other teen/young adult women talk about their life experiences. We talk about body image, depression, trauma, rape, divorce, etc. We are empathetic, cynical, and honest, and open. You can talk about whatever you need to talk about, be validated, and not worry about people you don’t feel comfortable knowing your problems ever finding out, because it is all confidential. If you are struggling, if you feel lost, I can guarantee that you are not alone. I, along with so many other young people, am struggling. Having a community, like Lighthouse Lite, is healthy for young women because it teaches us that we are allowed to struggle, be imperfect, be valid, and be real. 

**LIGHT HOUSE AND LIGHTHOUSE LITE ARE NOT LICENSED PROFESSIONAL THERAPY**

There is no shame in needing therapy. If you need therapy, or would like to talk to a professional, I would strongly encourage doing that. Lighthouse Lite is just a community, a support group, not therapy.

If you are concerned for yourself or a loved one and think you/they need help, look below:

National Suicide Prevention Lifeline: 800-273-8255

Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration National Helpline: 800-662-4357

Disaster Distress Hotline: 800-985-5990

Crisis Text Line: Text HELLO to 741741

Hey y'all! I moved to Charleston from a little town in New Jersey, and before you go "NeW JoYsEE", no. I don't talk like that. I have a sense of humor and I am very open about myself; you can live my life by reading what I write. I love long walks on the beach, coffee all day long, poetry, photography, and a whole lot more. Thank you so much for coming to my page. I really hope my writing speaks to you, helps you, or just makes you laugh. (:
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