If you’re here, you must be ready to embark on some sort of journey.  It may be that you want a front row seat to my own or it may be that you have decided for yourself that it was time begin your own…

…either way, I’m glad you came.

Hello.  And thank you for joining me on my personal journey to healing and happiness.  Though, I’m not sure where I’ll end up yet, I’m positive that it will be somewhere new and unfamiliar — but better than the place I was in when I began the trip.

If you ask me who I am, my diagnosis says that I’m a middle aged woman suffering from Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD), a severe anxiety disorder, along with depression.  I would tell you that I’m something else; someone other than a mere diagnosis.

Why I am Here

You may be asking yourself why I’m here, blogging my heart and soul out.  I have many answers to that question, but there are two main reasons.  The first is because I want to use this blog to document my anticipated recovery and to use it as a tool to look back on when I hit those down days…because those down days will come.  The second, is that I hope that I can use this experience to help others.  So that they may know that they are not alone and that they don’t have to be alone.  That there are people out there suffering just like they are.  There are people out there feeling the pain that you feel.  Some in different ways and for different reasons, but the truth remains — they do exist.

How Did I Get Here?

Some of you may wonder where I am coming from, or how I got here.

I wish I had an easy or simple answer, but the truth is that I don’t.  I believe it’s been an accumulation of life experiences.  Maybe I thought I could take on the world alone.  Maybe I figured that all of my demons had been put to rest.  Maybe I thought that I had to maintain control over every aspect of my life and that I had to be absolutely certain that things would go as planned.  There are so many maybes that I would say apply to my story…

But the fact of the matter is, I hit rock bottom.  And when I hit it — I hit it hard.

I was drifting through my days, without even thinking.  They were coming and going; life was passing little by little.  There was no meaning; there were no goals.  I questioned why I even existed anymore.  I questioned what my purpose was.  And then there were the crying spells.  Even though there are plenty of people that come and go in my life, I had never felt so alone.  By this time, I was isolated and had lost interest in everything that used to bring me joy.  I had lost Faith in anything, as well as anyone.  There was no sign of hope to be found.  Sometimes the pain would become so much that I would scream things that I don’t even remember.  Sadly, when the pain got really bad — and I’m talking about that knot in your chest/stomach area that feels like a ball of trapped rage that won’t come out — I would cut myself.  I’d do it, not intending to kill myself.  But, I’d do it just to be able to bring that pain to the surface.  The thoughts of suicide would come and go, but there was no plan.  I never documented or said out loud that I intended on killing myself.  But there were wishes…oh yes, there were wishes…that I might fall asleep and not wake up the next day or that tomorrow simply just wouldn’t come.

I would do my best to reach out for help in every way that I knew how…facebook posts, seeing my psychiatrist and psychologist on a regular basis, cryptic messages to some friends…but, I just couldn’t get the help that I needed.  And it seemed as though, I never would.  I had lost hope that anyone could help me.

I was finally evaluated at a local Mental Health facility after breaking down at work one day and they recommended a Partial Hospitalization Program (PHP)…thus, begins our journey..