I’ve been stuck in my head for the past six months or so. I’ve honestly lost track, with no end in sight. Typically when this happens, my moods swing erratically and I either take things to extremes or ignore them completely. My bedroom resembles that of a teenage boy, because I just can’t bring myself to care. I’ve begun working on it, trying to force myself to be a little less apathetic. The status of the disaster zone pretty accurately depicts what’s going on in my mind as of late. Nothing is making sense and everything seems like it needs to be done right now, but the stars aren’t aligned properly so maybe tomorrow.

I’ve struggled with this problem since I was about 12, when my life became a never-ending car crash of memories I wish had never surfaced. I try not to allow the turmoil of my adolescence affect me, but some days are more difficult than others. Long story short, I’m part of a one-in-four statistic no one wants to talk about unless they have something to gain personally. I reacted pretty typically once I was away from my abuser I suppose. I have scars, I’ve been unsuccessful on the several attempts on my life, and I still have nightmares even though I’ve been dealing with the left over baggage for the better part of a decade. I’ve even got a tattoo on my ribs to remind myself how far I’ve come when I hit the valleys again. Perhaps the most difficult part of moving past it all though is the emotional scarring. I’ve gotten much better at suppressing my panic attacks when I’m in public, especially at work, because, damnit, I’ve got a job to do and a life to live and that will not be taken away from me without my say so. Some days are harder though.

Some days it’s hard not to wonder if I’m actually what my abuser told me almost every day for the first 11 years of my life. When you’re overweight and seem to have lost your momentum being a “fat ass bitch that will never amount to anything” fits pretty well. Especially when you hear it from all sides; I am well aware of the fact that most everyone my age gets questions on when they’re going to start their careers and start taking better care of themselves. I remind myself of this every time I notice I’m getting defensive and that not everyone knows what’s running through my head. Not to mention those who I think should know have probably forgotten because of their own need to move past things. I get it; I do.

A hot topic as of late is how easily offended everyone is. I completely agree that people get offended over very silly things like non-vegan ice cream, and by the same token it almost invalidates real issues like social injustices that are worth getting offended and riled up about. It also makes it harder for some of us to speak up when we know we should. We don’t want to be chastised for being whiny millennials. This is part of why I don’t speak up when someone who should know better starts pushing buttons. I feel my experiences are irrelevant and it’s been this long so I should just suck it up and get over it already. By the same token I know my feelings aren’t invalid and it is far healthier to feel them than to bury them. I learned that one the hard way.

Thus we have a never ending cycle of feeling useless or unworthy rather than normal. The purpose of voicing my personal experience with getting stuck in my head is not for people to treat me differently. I’d rather you didn’t. I’m not special. I went through some heavy stuff, but honestly it had to happen to someone and I’d rather it be me than someone else. The real reason I wanted to write this down and have it out there is so if someone else is stuck in their head, they can know they’re not alone. Even if you seem like you have everything together to outsiders you know what’s in your head. It almost makes it worse when people look at you and ask you what you could possibly have to be upset about and you should just be thankful you’re not a starving child in Africa.

I am thankful things weren’t and aren’t worse. I’m thankful for the support system I have. I know others who weren’t as lucky and didn’t survive their time in their head. It’s lonely sometimes knowing everyone is tired of hearing you relive childhood trauma, and knowing you don’t want it to be a part of you anymore. It’s there. It’s real. It’s valid. You are not alone. You are not irreparably damaged and you will overcome. Take it one day at a time.