I am not in control.

I love being in control. I think we all appreciate to be in control of our lives and have the ability to freely make choices that align with our values. Not in the sense that I want the power to control others, but rather the power to have agency.

If you know me, I struggle immensely with PTSD and depression. It’s something I’m finally allowing myself some space to grieve the loss of myself throughout the years. It used to make me so angry thinking about how unfair it is that I have to suffer for the rest of my life while those who did bad things to me are able to live fulfilling lives. It started to make me think, “If these things keep happening to me, am I the problem?” I spent years beating myself up and shaming myself into being a “better person”. I got better at communication. I got better at being a good friend, daughter, sister, partner. I got better at letting people in. I got better at advocating and standing up for myself. I got better at holding and respecting boundaries. Damn, I even wanted to “repent” for my mistakes, so much so that I became a mental health therapist!

But no matter how much I grow and how much more sure of myself I become, I still genuinely believe that “I am a horrible person” and that I deserve everything that happened to me. In a sense, beating myself up was my illusion of control. If everything was my fault, then I can do something about it and change the outcomes. I can change my actions and responses. I can protect myself from being hurt. But as I sit in therapy the other day and continuously repeating the same old deprecating thoughts to my therapist, she looked at me and said, “Control is good, Winnie. But that does not mean you beat yourself up for things that was not even up to you to decide. There was nothing you could have done to prevent what happened to you. I don’t care how many times it happened, no one deserves to go through the horrible things you did. It was not up to you, nor was it your responsibility to try and not get sexually assaulted. It was not up to you to be abused. A rapist is going to rape you whether you have protection or not. An abuser is going to abuse you no matter how much you try to appease them. A pedophile is going to molest you whether you knew better as a child or not. You didn’t have a choice in any of the things that happened to you. But you can’t hate yourself for things people decided to do to you.”

Here I am, almost 10 years later after one of the most traumatic moments of my life and 5 years after leaving an abusive relationship, still waking up from nightmares that give me panic attacks. Still cannot sleep on my bed at times because I hate how it reminds me of what happened. Still avoid so many places that remind me of those memories. Still break down in tears when I get a whiff of familiar smells, hearing certain songs, and seeing people who made me feel like I did all this to myself. Still cannot sit in a public place without facing the entrance. Still jumping at the lightest of physical touch. Still cannot look at my own body at times and the scars I got. The worst thing is, I forgot what it feels like to not constantly live in fear. Fear for my safety. For my sanity.

I am absolutely terrified of sharing the things I go through. So I handled everything with closed fists. Afraid that this will be all that people view me as…broken. Or even, “wow, I can’t believe she turned her life around even after what happened to her.” I don’t want the pity. I don’t want people to tie all my accomplishments and who I am to what happened to me and how I persevered through it.

The moment I let people in, I lose control. That terrifies me. But it also is liberating to know that there are those who are gentle, caring, and kind that do not take my vulnerability as a sign of weakness. I don’t know exactly how to end this blog post, but all I know is that maybe it is okay to accept that maybe not everything is my fault. It is okay to not be in control all the time. I can hold myself accountable and taking responsibilities for my actions, but that does mean I have to beat myself up and believe that I deserve everything that happened to me. And that is a lesson that I am still trying to teach myself.

With love,

-Winnie