Today I am doing my okayest.
I’m not great. I’m not even good. What’s happening is a PTSD flare. My brain is trying to hold onto an unfortunate event and turn it into a trauma. I am fighting. This should not be a trauma, but the thing about PTSD-primed brains is they are already traumatized. When an event rolls around that feels and looks like past traumas, my brain grabs hold and tried to meld it to my history of violence.
my image
I could drown in the PTSD flood, but I’m keeping my head up. I’m reminding myself of “normal.” Of “safe.” Because even though a thing happened that didn’t feel safe, I was safe and am safe.
I am repeating to myself that I am okay. It is okay to just be okay. I am doing my okayest. I don’t have to do my best right now. I’m allowed to feel.
It is also okay that I’m tired. That I want to curl up in a ball and hide from this gray world.
Just two more meetings and I can sit in my closet. I can lean my head back against the wall and breathe in darkness.
That is what okay looks like. I keep hold of it in my mind. It is hope, and hope is hard to come by when you have been a victim even if you are a survivor.
