It Lingers

I used to write in my journal every day, like clockwork. It was a habit I got into in high school because for every journal I filled my mom would take me to this rally nice book store to pick a new one. They had the most beautiful journals so it was a great incentive. Even though my journals eventually evolved into much less fancy/fun covers I continued the habit. Boxes full.
I started to have little gaps here and there as life got busier but I made sure to write more days than I didn't each week. It would be kind of fun to look back on things I had done or gone through. A great way to track growth or continuing issues.
I have had things happen that were rougher than I could ever imagine (and I can imagine pretty well) and I was still able to at least recount it for the sake of the journal and documentation. That all ended last summer.
Here is where is gets sticky. I have always prided myself on not sugar coating things, and being totally open. When someone asks me how I'm doing, they are going to actually hear how I'm doing. If I'm having a rough time, I don't want to hide that. It only makes others who are also struggling feel like they are alone, like every one else has their shit together so why can't they? It's not real and not healthy.
That being said, I can't tell you details about why I am broken right now. In broad strokes? Someone hurt Emmeline, and I am powerless. I have seen video of this person hurting Emmeline, I have had to talk to this person without also hurting them, I have had to continue to expose Emmeline and myself to the environment and people the allowed it to happen. I am basically trying to make it through each day blocking out the things I can't unsee and the hurt I can't make unfelt. Hence, the no journal. I just can't allow myself to openly think about it. If I do I cry, I go to Emmeline's room and wrap her in my arms to make sure she is safe and feels safe, I can't breath, I am flooded with hate, my mind races...I sink. When I close my eyes I see the video, over and over. If I talk about it I find myself all to quickly getting to that point where if someone tried to hug or touch me I would burst into tears or filled with the rage of a thousand suns, or both.
So I try not to think about it. I go along my merry denial way trying to get through whatever moment I find myself in.  I walk the dog, go to work, eat lunch, all the normal things. Then evening comes and the flood gates open.
The affects of this encounter on Emmeline are rough. As I see my daughter crumbling around me I wonder what it would be like if it had never happened. The stress is right at the surface for all of us. The tiniest poke causes the biggest explosions. Most days getting to bedtime is U G L Y, so reliving the day through journaling just seemed torturous.
When it first happened, I thought, "I don't want to remember this so I am not going to write in my journal about it". I had every intention to start writing again when it passed, because that's what is supposed to happen, it's supposed to pass. But it hasn't, as least not yet.  It feels like that's all there is now.
 Like there is a hand in my chest that just randomly squeezes my lungs and heart until I realize I'm not breathing at all. Living with trauma is hard. So, so hard. It's like the roommate no one agreed to let move in but they came anyway, and they keep leaving their shit everywhere.

I have thought about posting many times, but when rough patch leads to rough patch is there really a point to posting and saying, "Yep! Still crappy over here!"? People instinctually want to talk about all the good that has happened, and I'm not saying it hasn't. I know not everything that has happened has been crappy. But right now it is SO overshadowed. Like having a sip of water half way through a marathon. It helps but not for long.
Be honest, no one wants this dumped on them. Even people who know little bits get that scared look in their eyes when they find out more. I'm sure some of you are thinking "Crap, now that I know, I feel like I have to do something". But if I'm being honest, there isn't "something" to do.  Like I said, talking about it either makes me cry or feel like I'm going to stroke out. So, why don't we call this a win win by you not having to do anything and me getting to say "Yep! Still crappy over here!"?