We don’t have the same story, but we have innumerable tragedies that I believe lead to complex post traumatic stress disorder, not the same as PTSD. I’m resilient, too. When my mother couldn’t do it, and my youngest brother and sister were going to become felons like my other brothers, I took them to raise them. I still got an advanced degree. Feeling like an alien around the other students was just something to adjust to.
I didn’t sell drugs. My brother did. I didn’t end up in the hospital for suicide attempts; my mother and two of my brothers did. I didn’t grow up with malignant parents, just psychotic ones. I never lost custody of my children because they were picking up other children’s food at school out of hunger, my parents did. My time in foster care was two months shorter than my littlest brother and sister.
I’m supposed to be okay now, but I’m not. You’re strong, you’re powerful, and probably okay now. But, if you’re not totally fine, I think there’s two things that happen next. You have to heal. You have to write. Writing helps with healing.