Memories unfolded in a FB post to remind me.
Revealing a cycle that hurts to admit.
It is when comfort conceals the pain does it manifest. Because unkept wounds fester until forgiven.
Three months ago I fell further than I have in many, many years.
Betrayed by sanity assumed, a traumatic brain denies assumptions.
My body aches, my heart is bruised, my shame soaked guilt heavier than ever.
My symptoms don’t match my reality.
And as I sit within the reality that is me the grace that my wife, kids, family and friends forward unto me humbles me to tears.
And I cry
Everytime, these tears pull me forward.
Lifting me to my feet for another long walk towards a normal everyday.
The time loop that is mental health is a circle entrusted to me to control.
And everytime I step into the Hell that I’ve seen before I must walk through it only to see it on the horizon again.
Such is the circle entrusted to me.
Following an everyday fantasy.
The story of PTSD is one written with a pained pen in a hopeful journal.