I used to be a very private person. I used to hide it all away. I didn’t know what else to do when things weren’t quite right, when things weren’t working. I truly believed that keeping it all inside was a sign of strength. I was strong. I could keep it quiet and not let it affect me.
But I was wrong. It didn’t stay quiet. And it was affecting me. I can see that now, but at the time I was too caught up in my own fictitious strength. I was oblivious.
No one could open my eyes for me. I had to learn the hard way. I had to eventually acknowledge the lessons that were coming my way. And in time I chose to listen.
I’m no longer a private person. I no longer believe that holding it all in is a sign of strength. I now try my best to let people know when I’m hurting. I now try to accept when things aren’t working. I now make an effort to recognise that I need help at times. I no longer claim to be able to do it all. Or know it all.
I’m no longer too proud to admit that the journey with my husband’s PTSD has damaged me along the way. And I’m not too proud to tell you that, without reaching out for professional help, I know I wouldn’t have managed to this point.
I’m no longer too proud to admit that the ongoing strain of PTSD has crippled our marriage. And I’m not too proud to tell you that, as a couple, we are now choosing professional support to help us learn how to heal and repair.
We are both committed to our relationship, mostly out of stubbornness and loyalty, but it’s clear that the hurt still runs deep. Trust has lost its footing. For too long now, I’ve been building my walls up too high. And much too strong. For years I’ve been reinforcing them, adding layer after layer, in a desperate attempt to protect myself. Whilst all around, our marriage crumbles.
For a chance to heal, I have no choice but let the walls come down. To repair what’s inside, the walls first need to be knocked down. And I am petrified. The woman behind those walls feels nothing but weak, and brittle, and vulnerable. Because inside that woman, there is a scared little girl who is trying hard not to cry.
But I am a wife. I owe it to my husband and my marriage to do all I can to bring down the walls.
I am a mother. I owe it to my children to find my true strength without the barricades.
And I am a woman. I owe it to myself to start living the life that I have always truly wanted.
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