Post Traumatic Stress; a disorder in which a person has difficulty recovering after experiencing a terrifying event. I know that there are different forms and severities of PTS (formally known as PTSD). The condition or experience of PTS may last months or years with triggers and intense emotional and physical reactions. People experience different kinds of trauma, and some don’t even realize trauma has occurred until much later. Hindsight is 20/20 (in this case, LITERALLY). Everyone’s degree of trauma is received and projected differently. And the healing looks different for all people.
I haven’t experienced war, or been in a horrific accident or even witnessed something tragic, but I have had traumatic experiences that have landed me in a state of being unwell, mentally. Just because you have had the strength to get through trauma, doesn’t mean no healing has to take place. Just because the house is clean, doesn’t mean dust won’t still settle.
I signed up to be a stay at home mom, I know this. What I did not sign up for, was to be a stay at home mom in the middle of a global pandemic. I didn’t sign up to spend every waking moment inside our four walls for months while our country was nearly in complete lock down. Call me dramatic, but I was in my own house, yet everything felt so foreign. I couldn’t find my way out. I felt lost and scared.
Once the shock wore off, then the reality set in. I was living every day like the day before. I wasn’t just doing this because it was easy, I did this because I felt paralyzed with fear. Every day I was encompassed by my anxiety triggers. Every. Single. Day. Regardless of how I felt, the kids still needed to do school. The laundry still needed to be done (I may have slacked on this but whatever). Meals still needed to be made (ALL THE FREAKING MEALS). Diapers still needed to be changed. Dustin still had to go to work. DID I MENTION THE DISHES FROM ALL THE FREAKING MEALS? So, I found myself living the same mundane days, over and over.
I felt myself getting more aggravated, and less interested. Everything my kids did annoyed me. Sometimes when my husband spoke I would zone out (his life didn’t really change so there was resentment). Every time the news flashed on my phone or the TV, I panicked. Our lives were stagnant, yet I felt like I was constantly sprinting. Things that I didn’t even realize bothered me, became triggers. For instance, anytime the song “Savage Love” comes on, I turn it off because it was played non stop in the background of last summer.
It’s not until now, since the kids are about to go back to school, that I am realizing how traumatic the past year has been. Now I realize how for one year, I was treading water just to breathe. Now I need to heal. And I need to put on a life vest and recharge. Although the pandemic is still going on, there is a light that I can suddenly see. But that light is also revealing the wounds created by a terrifying global pandemic.
So, although it seemed like 2020 was just something we ALL lived through, for me(and others, I’m sure), it was a series of traumatic events that I still have to heal from. I joke that it was a “shit show” (and it was), but it was also a roller coaster that nobody asked to be on. We are in a new year, and we are still on the coaster, but it has slowed, and I’m ready to exit, so I can recharge.
I have reached out to my husband and friends to let them know that I’m struggling with this. After all, my friends and family are the ones that store my life vests. I’m hoping to have a getaway with my husband and possibly an overnight away solo. I will continue to talk this through with my therapist as well. Some days are harder than others, be kind to yourself. Reflect on how you coped (or if you coped at all) with the past year. And if you need a break, TAKE ONE. A plane can’t fly without fuel.