Not Gone and Not Forgotten

There's absolutely no denying that this past year has brought an enormous amount of healing. Moving so far away from family, triggers and constant painful reminders of a life stolen has given. Me new hope, a new start. God has done amazing things in my life. Even through great struggles, there has been a great deal of positive change.

All that to say, I'm thankful for the changes. However, I've not forgotten. I have not forgotten that the bottom line has not changed.

This week, I heard about someone receiving the same diagnosis I did in 2010. While I don't know the person, my heart instantly broke for her and her family. I don't have to know them to fully grasp the pain, confusion and struggle they will face in the days, weeks, and lifetime ahead. I don't have to know the underlying issue that brought this young lady to where she is now, to intimately understand how trauma has impacted her life.

In full disclosure, I'll tell you that I won't fully disclose this part of my life. It's still too painful and misunderstood to trust the general population with it. There are only a few people active in my life who know and even they struggle to understand at times. A dozen others who've walked through parts of the past eight years with me know, but have no part in my life now. Nobody here in Ohio, except my husband, know the full story.

It's rare, only .01% of the worlds population has been diagnosed. There are more undiagnosed, but easily confused with other illnesses. Mine is complex enough that it will stay with me until the end of my days.

In times like right now, I'm ok with that. It's not a present problem and on the surface, I live a perfectly normal life. It's easy to shove it aside. The lack of mental health care available, makes it easier to set aside. However, I know I'm in trouble the second I can't keep it at bay.

Interestingly enough, I still can't get life insurance but I could buy a gun. Crazy, huh!

I could say that I began this journey eight years ago, but honestly the journey is life long. The healing began eight years ago. It's a process. Healing hasn't come easily and until this year, has never come quickly.

There's no medication for this illness, but it's not terminal. I hate that anyone ever has to hear their diagnosis. I hate the pain that brings them to that point in life. I hate that it's an illness that there isn't a textbook fix for. I hate that it's so misunderstood that people, like me, can't share with the general public. I hate that it's an isolating illness because it's not better understood.

Even though I live as if I'm normal, I've not forgotten. I've not forgotten this part of me. I've not forgotten that I still have a ways to go before I'll be made whole from all that broke me apart.