A few months back, you may recall seeing a post on How To Spot Your Troll, where I detailed how you track someone’s location using their IP address. What you didn’t see, thanks to WordPress not allowing the last comment to show up on one of my recent posts at the time, was her last comment.
It was left on a post I wrote about PTSD. Though I don’t know the exact wording-because I didn’t care to look twice once I figured out where it came from-it said something to the effect of I had no business trying to have children when I was obviously too troubled to do so.
Yes, someone who was sexually abused & raped is more likely to develop PTSD. That is an unfortunate reality people like me have to endure. However, to say I would be any less likely to be a mother than she is couldn’t be further from the truth. I feel like it’s quite the opposite in fact.
What I’ve gone through throughout my life is what nightmares are made of. When I allow myself to sit with it, even for a while, I feel like I’m starring in a Lifetime special. I feel like my life was stripped from me. & it was.
But I got it back. & that, above all else, is the most important part of my story.
On the post the last comment was left on, I divulged details of my journey through PTSD. Things that are no longer the case in the current reality of my life. I spilled out the darkest time of my life, when I had to finally accept what had happened to me to the fullest extent.
The bravest thing I have ever done, one of them anyway, was continuing my life when I wanted to die. I wanted to die because I felt dirty, used, and, “bad,” for the things that had happened to me. And here this lady, who was bound & determined to hate me before she even knew me, was mocking that. She mocked my triggers. My feelings. The depth of my darkness.
All of which, for the record, have only served in making me stronger than I ever believed possible.
According to her, how dare someone who was sexually abused & raped countless times have PTSD. How dare they ever think of reproducing. I guess all the other girls like me should resign ourself to childless lives. After all, don’t we need further punishment for a life we did not choose?
I did not choose to be raped. I did not choose my PTSD. No one does. No person wakes up & yells, after they theatrically jump out of bed, “I WANT A MENTAL ILLNESS!!”
I assure you, it doesn’t happen.
My perp. took my childhood. My college years. The years that preceded that. &, sometimes, continues to take away the brightest moments of my life today.
He robbed me of relationships I’d had my whole life. Cousins I considered best friends were gone forever when the truth came to light. He ruined my holidays.
But he doesn’t get to dictate any more of my life. Those chapters are long gone.
I once had a therapist say to me, “What’s happening to you now (PTSD) is a normal reaction to what was done to you. You’d only be crazy if it weren’t.”
I have stood toe to toe with my demons time & time again. I have fought for my life every single day for a number of years leading up to these past 2 that have finally been free.
How dare you-or anyone else-ever discount that.
My, ‘mental illness’ isn’t going to make me any less of a parent than you are…..I’ll just be even more capable & stronger in those coming chapters as well.
Stop the stigma.
Love, not hate.