The first thing I am about to say is going to be one of the most common things ever written: I never thought I would write a blog. I have had many experiences, like everyone, that have helped to shape me into the human being I am today. Some of those experiences were positive and special, while others were not so positive, but in their own way, still special. I also just want to address the reason why I adjusted the spelling of Thriver to Thrivor, and that is because I felt compelled, when creating the design, to find my own originality. I am sorry if it gets under your skin, but I didn’t want to go with something like Victim to Victor because I have never been a fan of the word ‘victim.’ I do not prefer to identify that way, I always consider myself a survivor because I find strength in that and am finding ways everyday to thrive with the cards that I have been dealt. So with that, here’s a little bit about me.
My name is Manda, and I am twenty years old, quickly approaching the big 21! I live in Washington state, and have one younger sister. I loved playing soccer growing up, but my main hobbies to this day are playing musical instruments and writing. But enough of all that. I have never been a fan of long introductions, so let’s jump right in.
I decided to sit down and write for you because I was diagnosed with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) when I was just seventeen years old from events that occurred when I was fifteen. Those series of events left me a shattered, broken, helpless person with nowhere to turn, with no understanding of why I was feeling the way I was feeling, and I was in a constant state of wondering, worrying and wondering some more.
At the age of fifteen, someone from my high school, a classmate of mine, began stalking me. At first I didn’t know that what he was doing was considered dangerous behavior because I had grown up very sheltered. I figured he was up to the usual annoying teenage boy stunts. Things started small. He would take pictures of me during class, claiming they were for his snapchat story and that they would disappear in 24 hours (I later found out he saved them to his phone). At first, I didn’t really care. However as time progressed, so did his actions. He began walking me to classes even when I tried to ignore the fact that he was there. He would often follow me or “keep tabs” on me when I participated in after school programs or choir rehearsals- not all the time, but often enough. One day he tried to follow me home, though I was fortunate and incredibly relieved when an older female student that I knew offered to drive me home and get me out of the situation.
One night, after a choir concert, he cornered me in what we choir students call a practice room. It was late. I was the last one there putting equipment away and I went to hang up my choir robe in that back practice room. The plan was to hang it up and meet my parents at their car which was in the front parking lot. I didn’t realize how far away that really was until I ran out of that practice room like my hair was on fire. I will go into more detail about that later.
For now, I want to start things off by letting you know that first of all, I AM NOT A MEDICAL PROFESSIONAL. Anything I write here should be taken as my own personal experience and how I view it. Think of it as reading my digital diary. I may share some practices that I have worked on with a counselor, but if you are struggling with any mental health issues, whether it is PTSD, Anxiety, Depression or any other overwhelming issue, I strongly encourage you to reach out to someone. It could be a professional, or it could be a best friend, a trusted adult like a teacher, a school counselor, a parent, an aunt or uncle. If you are feeling overwhelmed with your thoughts or you are worried about hurting yourself, or if you are in a life threatening situation, please call 9-1-1! You can also google the number of the crisis hotline for your county.
I am writing because I feel a lack of community to identify with, even though I am well aware of the fact that I am not the only one. Right now, the stats out there say 1/4 women will experience sexual assault or attempted assault, and 1/6 men. Those numbers are OUTRAGEOUS! No one deserves to be put through something as horrific, violating and humiliating as sexual assault or attempted assault. No one deserves to encounter anything that leaves them so traumatized it impacts their lives years later. My goal is to share my experiences to hopefully validate someone out there, or to help provide some clarity, and to also find the positives that emerge from these experiences because sometimes they are so hard to find.
I will stop there for now. I hope that you are looking forward to reading more about how dealing with PTSD has its highs and its lows. It is so important to know that you are never alone. It may feel like it on some of those foggy, dark days, however I want you to know that there are more people out there, both men and women who understand.
Until next time!
Flourishing With PTSD 