It was almost instantaneous, the way she had changed.
She was once, but for a very long time, the sad girl. The one who couldn’t seem to get anything to work out for her. The type of girl who would attempt to move mountains for others, only to stumble with no one about to pick her up. She was fragile, because her heart had been shattered and her dignity stripped.
But she was no longer this person.
Call it Post Traumatic Growth, call it the help of years of medication, call it growing up. Whatever you want to call it doesn’t matter, because she finally wasn’t the sad girl anymore, and that’s all that she had ever wanted in this life.
And some days,
you won’t even recognise your trigger.
You’ll just wake up,
and feel as though you’ve taken twenty steps back.
You’ll want to curl up into a ball and cry the day away,
but there’s a voice telling you that you don’t even have that right.
You were okay yesterday,
why aren’t you today?
And the voice gets louder as the day progresses,
and it starts to scream at you that it’s not okay to not be okay.
And it hurts a whole lot battling with the voices,
but if you don’t battle you succumb to their ways.
It’s so much more than being down and out.
It’s night sweats and horrific flashbacks.
It’s being sent into a spiral downward from a word, a sound, a sensation, a memory.
It’s frequent panic attacks that send your chest so tight, you think you may suffocate.
It’s hyper vigilance at its strongest.
It’s nightmares that leave you feeling as if you were there all over again, and the situation was replaying in slow motion, and you’re out of your body just watching and wanting so very badly to help, but knowing you can’t, because it’s done.
It’s Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.
And just like that, you’re there again.
And you’re reliving it.
And you can’t breathe so well anymore, because your chest has tightened to the point where it feels as though you may suffocate.
And you can’t speak, because there’s a lump in your throat the size of a damn tennis ball.
And you can’t think right, because you’re being enveloped in horrific flashbacks.
And you start to sweat, with whitened knuckles.
And everyone turns into the enemy, no matter how close they really are.
And you want to fall into a heap, but you can’t, because no one truly understands.
We’re not on the same page.
I, with the heart and the love that burns eternally.
And you, with the mind that is cautious and always weary.
So I end up burning up the pages waiting for you to have a heart like mine.
And you end up tearing the pages apart waiting for me to think like you.
We’ll never be on the same page, because our stories are too different.
There’s moments with the ones you love where they take off their cool, and be who they truly are with you.
These moments should be cherished, remembered, and thought of frequently.
I’m talking about the moments where you can see every single flaw in a human being, and love them nonetheless.
The moments where people will belly laugh the day away with you over the most nonsensical of things.
The moments when you pour your heart out, and are met with a positive, loving, truthful response.
Take off your cool for the ones you love, let them get to know you.
My heart is full, my mind is happy and my thoughts are sincere.
For the first time, she felt happiness.
Complete, utter, content, bliss.
But due to the nature of her mind, something was bugging her, still – and it brought her mood down some.
You see, the fact that she had never at one stage in her life felt happy, meant that her brain seemed to be accustomed to depressive tendencies.
She felt as though she didn’t know how to handle being happy.
It was always ever-so elusive in her life, so the sudden change brought much confusion with it.
She began to do normal things in life. Brushing her teeth and hair, showering, getting out of bed. But there was a looming voice that told her she couldn’t do the whole happiness thing, because she simply didn’t know what it was, for she had never felt it before.