A year ago, I started a blog. I needed a safe place to talk about my feelings, away from the prying eyes of those we know. I needed somewhere I could say what was in my heart, let out my hurt, encourage myself to stick with this life and sometimes, just to feel normal.
In the process, I hoped that others might find comfort in knowing they aren't alone, or even just being able to feel normal too. I hoped that, by writing about PTSD from my own perspective, instead of regurgitating information, I might be able to show people this secret life so many lead. Our situation is not so uncommon.
It's not uncommon for spouses to be sworn to secrecy. It's not so uncommon for service members (or others who might have PTSD related to their duty i.e.: Police Offices, Fire fighters etc) to refuse to seek treatment, or to seek treatment in secret and refuse to tell anyone. My situation is not so uncommon. I lose myself in the situation, I forget else care, I live with a great big secret.
But, in the process of hoping someone might find comfort in my words, or understanding in my situation, I forgot one important thing... And it's been a life lesson.
Blog posts are always here. So, while I might forget how hurt I am today, or I might forget how mad, my blog doesn't. And it means that I get emails someone tweeted something, tagged me in something or generally shared something I wrote and I have to look. I want to see what resonated with them.
Then I cry.
I cry remembering the pain.
I cry remembering the hope.
I cry realizing I am still in the same place, in a worse place, or that things were ever that bad.
The unexpected consequence of blogging is that your blog never forgets. And when your blog is painfully personal, and is a place for you to release your feelings and the truth of your life, sometimes, what you need is a short memory.