What is normal? It seems to be this floating target for everyone, but in reality it is just what it is. I think for most people, normal is going to work, dealing with children, cooking, cleaning, etc. Really, it is something that looks more like a rat race for survival. And, if everyone makes it through the day alive, then it was successful.
I don't really fall into that normal. Maybe 40-60 years ago, my life would be considered more normal. But today it's more abnormal.
There aren't many middle aged stay at home wives these days who have no children. I am a rare breed and my normal isn't the same as my peers. Most women my age are either stay at home moms or work a full time job while being a full time wife, mother, housekeeper and taxi driver.
This makes it difficult for me to have a lot of adult contact during the days. As I was reflecting on this today, three tings came to mind.
1. The reason this is my normal.
2. I'm thankful for this opportunity.
3. Would I really change it?
I spent the better part of the past three years coping with my issues in very practical ways. I didn't have counseling or really anyone to be super honest with most of the time. So I managed by ignoring, avoiding and hiding from myself. Living as if there were no issues.
We all know that only works so long. It was a full time job hiding the PTSD and anxiety from the world. Don't get me wrong, I was good. But it wasn't good for me. Hiding only caused me to develop a more definitive problem with OCD and heightened my ADD tendencies. But, I was good. So good that I convinced myself I was capable of going back to school and working. I'll get to that later.
When I think about all of it, I have to consider the reason. I am the way I am because of someone else's depravity. I know. I know. Rise above and move on. Right? That's not so easy to do when a lifetime of torture and abuse has left you with debilitating mental illness. I'm not over dramatic, it's the truth. Absusers have left me with scars so deep that they manifested in mental illness. It doesn't mean I'm not intelligent or that I'm not a fully functioning adult. But it does mean that I cannot live a functioning life in a way that others deem normal.
I heard a loud commotion outside earlier. I instantly fell into a flashback of being beaten. Stuck in a loop until the smell of burning cookies brought me out of it. My husband touched my mouth in the car last month. I locked up and couldn't move. I felt the tears falling down my cheeks and the hyperventilating, but I couldn't do anything. I had to wait until that fear left my body. Watching a show, I heard a boy crying. Those cries turned into me irrationally searching for my brother because I feared he was being raped. I hid in a corner, shaking and crying until my little dog licked my face.
Those things are all part of PTSD and happen often and everywhere. I have to admit that those things keep me pretty well secluded. There are days when my anxiety is so bad I can't move from one spot. It's not conducive to living a normal working life. I may well have lived a normal life if I'd had a normal life.
There are more people like me, I know I'm not the only one. A lot of those people don't have the luxury of staying home. Many are on welfare or bounce between jobs. Don't think for a second that I'm not thankful for the opportunity to stay home. I know I'm fortunate. I know I have an amazing husband who goes to a crappy job daily so I don't have to. He is selfless and never expects anything of me. He's never once given me grief over not working. Yes, it would be easier financially if I was able to contribute.
That being said, I am thankful for the time I have at home. Not only does it allow me time for mental healthcare, but I've learned a great deal. I've learned how to be a wife. I have taken over the responsibilities of the home. My husband will help, but I do all the cooking and most of the laundry and cleaning. It's a long story, but our marriage was very lopsided in those things for a long time.
Would I change it? Sure. I'd go back if I could and turned in every abuser who convinced I could not. Of course I would have liked to have a more normal life. For the hear and now, I've tried hard to change things. School. Work. Let me be honest, I failed at both. It was too soon. School created even more anxiety for me. It also created an expense that we couldn't afford on one income. Working was hard in different ways. The anxiety and PTSD was a problem, but partially because my coworkers were up against something they didn't know. It was too soon to go back to work, even in an office where I primarily worked alone.
It would be easy to say I'm a failure and give up. But I haven't. I don't know if I'll ever be able to work again. That's not just my opinion. I have a very wise therapist who can't really say if I'll ever be able to work again. He's told me over and over that my case is complex and successful treatment may mean just being able to live without constant flashbacks or other symptoms. Of course I have higher hopes than that. Right now, I don't think I would make a change. I know there's still a lot of healing that needs to happen before I'm capable of making a change.
Until that day, this is my normal. It's abnormal to the world, but all I know to be normal.
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