I just got home from the dog park. Jessie and I had a great training session on the way home and she walked at my side almost the entire time.
I am home. I am safe. I am happy with my dog. And I realize I’m okay.
And the second I think ‘I’m okay.’ I feel a little piece of me crumble.
I think this might be common for people who survive trauma. We go into shock and survival mode and sometimes it takes a long time to come out of it and process what happened.
And when people write about it or even the way it is portrayed in movies, they make it sound like this big one time thing. I was in shock and now I am not and able to process my emotions and move on.
But nothing in recovering from trauma is linear. And I am not currently having a big, devastating cry as the reality of my situation settles in on me.
I am experiencing a tiny crumbling. Like the outer layer of sand falling from a sandcastle while it is being built. It’s not e crumble that sets back my progress, but I can still feel the pieces falling away. I am not the person I was. I am not able to hang out with people or focus on a conversation with most people. I am my version of happy at the moment. Happy that is mixed with shades of sadness because the tension in my jaw reminds me I am not symptom free at the moment. My version of feeling relaxed isn’t actually relaxed.
But I am home. I am safe. I am happy with my dog. I am okay*.