Journey

I have post traumatic stress disorder. It manifests itself differently for each person. I tend to get overwhelmed and shut down to a numb state unable to feel physically or emotionally. This is a safety response with which I have become exceptionally proficient. Unfortunately this way of living has further complicated how I respond to myself and others.  It is for this reason that I have begun to attempt to reintegrate into a more involved life.  In therapy I have been challenged to identify and process my emotions daily. I have been able to move from happy, sad, mad, etc. to more nuanced emotions, differentiating between emotions such as agitated, aggravated, angry, and annoyed. I have been able to discuss relationships with others without feeling an intense sense of shame.  In the beginning of March I joined a gym as an attempt to challenge myself physically. At some point in the past four years I gave up. I quit. I lost the mental toughness and stamina that I once had.

Sometimes I feel angry with my brother because he left this world so young. It is like he gave up too early. Cognitively I know it wasn't his decision, but I picture him in that hospital bed no longer fighting for his life. From the time I was very young my brother started teaching me about mental and physical toughness and not giving up. I'm sure when that lesson started I was just the annoying younger sister who he just wanted to discourage from doing things that "girls don't do." In a very hot and humid August the summer between my second and third grade year in school I told my family I wanted to play football. My brother told me I would never make it, and he told me what it was like to practice in the heat with all those pads on. Picture putting on your sweatpants and sweatshirt and running three miles. A couple minutes later I emerged from my room with my sweats on ready to run around the neighborhood three times (roughly three miles). I did it. I didn&#