Tag: traumatic experience

"on the road to healing"

July 26th – 7 Years of Slow and Steady Healing

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I almost forgot that today is July 26th – today used to be a day I dreaded, the anniversary of when I was admitted to the hospital for postpartum depression. I didn’t even register that today was a significant anniversary until I saw a Facebook memories post from 2 years ago when a friend had sent me flowers. I honestly don’t even think I would have remembered otherwise.

I take this as a good sign, a sign of healing. In one sense, 7 years is a long time. But in another sense, I feel good about the fact that in just 7 years, I’ve been able to process a very traumatic event and move past it. I’ve accepted it as part of my story, I’ve recognized how it has made me stronger and more empathetic to the struggle of others. It is a moment on my journey of life that has made me a better person.

July 26th is also the day that I started this blog – 6 years ago today, one year after experiencing postpartum depression, I created Threads of Anxiety. Sometimes I’m a little hit-or-miss as far as writing and publishing posts, but it’s been something I’ve enjoyed doing, I think it’s helped me become a better writer, and it’s certainly helped me process through some difficult events. In a way, writing is magic, it unlocks thoughts that you didn’t even know you had.

Blogging has also allowed me an avenue to share my story, which has been a huge part of my journey to healing.

Healing doesn’t mean that I’ve forgotten the traumatic event, or that it doesn’t hurt a little to think about it. And healing doesn’t mean that I’m “back to my old self.” I’ve been forever changed. But it does mean that I’m moving forward and owning my story, and I’m so thankful to be where I am today.

I don’t know that I could have healed in isolation. There are so many people who have helped me along the way – therapists, my husband, friends, and family. There are people who have reached out to me after reading my blog just to say thanks for sharing it. Others have come up to me to tell me that they, too, were hospitalized for postpartum depression – I realized over and over again that I was not alone in my struggle.

To wrap up, I just want to take a moment to look July 26th in the eye and say, as Jennifer Connelly does in the movie Labyrinth…

You have no power over me.

silver Gerber knife

Running with Knives (Part 1): Reflections on a Traumatic Experience

EricaLeave a comment

*TRIGGER WARNING – trauma, attempted assault

I know normally it’s a bad idea to run with knives, but every time I go jogging, I always have one in my pocket.

Many times when I go running, it will be early in the morning, a little before sunrise. It’s dark outside as I head off down my road, the occasional street lamp helping to light my way. I’m acutely aware of my surroundings, looking out for anything suspicious or unusual. I check behind me often to make sure I’m not being followed. The irrational side of me (or is it actually my rational side?) feels somewhat unsafe and the warning bells are ringing loudly inside my mind. The other side of me pushes those feelings aside and thinks “what are the odds that something bad would actually happen?” The problem is, I’m all too familiar with those odds, because all it takes is one time, one event – and that event happened to me when I was a junior in high school.

Our family had a dog growing up, and by dog I mean a little chihuahua-dachshund mix that weighed about 10 pounds. Her name was Peanut. Every day my dad or I would take her on walks around our neighborhood in Phoenix, Arizona. One evening, I don’t remember why, I decided I was going to take Peanut on a short walk. It was around 9pm, and the sun was long gone. The warning bells were softly chiming in my mind – it’s dark, you shouldn’t go out by yourself, yes YOU, the skinny 17-year-old girl! – but I brushed the thoughts aside and told myself, “what’s the worst that could happen?”

Our house in Phoenix was unusual in that it had an 8-foot stucco wall surrounding the entire front yard. (All the houses in this neighborhood were like that – I guess to offer more privacy.) So I walked out the front door of my house, and then unlocked the front gate in the outer wall that led out to our driveway.

I walked along the sidewalk past all the stucco-surrounded homes, carrying my pooper-scooper and plastic bag on one hand, and holding Peanut’s bright pink leash in the other. The next block over (continuing straight) was just a big empty dirt field, and on the other side of the street were various apartment complexes. I wasn’t that far from home, I had just made it to the dirt field in the next block over, when I noticed a man walking a ways behind me. But he was gaining on me fast.

I didn’t like the way he was walking or how fast he was catching up to me. The warning bells were now full-on blaring in my head, I knew this was not good. One thing I’ve learned about myself is that when I’m in a bad situation (real or perceived) my personality initially wants to do something to try to fix it. In other words, I’m not going down without a fight. That being said, the LAST thing I really wanted to do was get into a fight with a strange man who might be out to harm me. But I wasn’t going to go down easily either.

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