A long time ago, I discovered the first understandings of falling in love. While it was nothing like you see in the movies or read in rom coms, it came at a price and an ending not worth remembering.
The thing with PTSD, you don't forget, no matter how much you want. You remember and reflect and sometimes relive them over and over again when you try to close your eyes at night. Or when you hear a song that takes that flashback and makes it present. PTSD effects millions of individuals all over the world and for all different reasons. It's not something that should be downplayed or over looked. It's real and it's painful and scary as hell.
For the longest time, I didn't know why I kept reliving memories. Why I couldn't just let them go and move on like so many people have told me to do. But 2 years ago, with the help of my current therapist, I discovered why.
I have PTSD. And rather then hide it, I've decided to own it. My childhood played a huge factor in my PTSD, but other factors that I never considered before, also contributed. As a mother to a daughter, I've come all to close to understanding that in the next few years, she too will be a teenager and with that comes responsibilities, crushes, new feelings, love and sex.
My husband pretends to not see it that way. But my mind is already turning with everything. How do I protect her? Have I given her enough to know right from wrong? Have I been raising a child with a backbone? Will she be hurt like I was?
The answer is yes. She will face heartbreak and heartache. She will face unrequited love and everything in between. She will fall in love many times before finding the right person. She will be broken up with, loved, betrayed and she will face many obstacles that I can't protect her from. But what I can do is have her learn from my mistakes. I can share with her what I know, what I discovered and what I overcame.
I can't protect her from PTSD, or my own. But you can damn well be sure that I will do what I can to protect her from every experiencing her own PTSD.
As parents, we want the very best for our kids. We want to teach them right, hope that they turn into good people and will instantly jump in front of a train or a bullet to keep them from ever feeling pain. We would gladly give them everything to see them happy and the moment that little hand wraps around your finger, you've found your reason that lead you to that very moment.
When I was fifteen, I received a nickname from my friends in high school. Kissing Virgin or eventually just called Virgin. Growing up, I wasn't much to swoon over. I knew boys weren't looking at me, but rather making fun of the overweight girl with braces and a boy band obsession. Thankfully most of those jerks went to a different high school then myself and so, by the time I stepped into the overcrowded halls of high school, I decided to keep my head high and become a better version of myself.
A summer between 8th and 9th grade helped with my appearance and that baby fat that was made fun of all through elementary and middle school, some how just disappeared and curves appeared.
Freshmen year of high school was a new experience all together. I made friends with people instantly. I took classes that challenged me. I ran for class government and won. I started gaining attention from boys--one in particular that I absolutely had a huge crush on. When my friends (guy friends included) learned that I had never held hands before, attended a school dance, been kissed or held or even crushed on...I earned my stupid childish nickname of Virgin.
It's not as if I didn't have crushes before in middle school. I did, but they never liked me back and anyway my parents had a rule that I wasn't allowed to date until I was sixteen. Boys were on my radar but not at the same time.
But when this particular crush (who was one of my guy friends) started writing me notes in forth hour math...well, my radar picked up. At the time it didn't register to me that I shouldn't be exchanging notes with a boy who had a girlfriend. (Even if she was in 8th grade still and didn't attend our high school yet.) It should have though, because maybe if I had registered that early on, it would have saved me a whole lot of heartbreak down the road.
Stupid and over the moon for this boy, I ignored the fact that I knew he had a girlfriend and protected my art in flirting. Which as I became more familiar with, I used way to ofter with most of my guy friends and those that weren't (but thats another story for another time).
The note passing began in October. By mid November what was just a note in math, became notes throughout the entire day. One day he wrote to tell me that he and his girlfriend had broken up. When I stupidly asked, it was confessed because he had his eyes on someone else. In December he asked me to the winter formal. Excitedly, I accepted and my parents actually agreed. I remember shopping for the dress and the way the soft blue velvet felt. I remember the nerves of getting ready and the moment he steeped into our house with a floral wrist guard and the swirls of excitement and panic. At the time, my best friend (a year older) was forced to come with us. I didn't know how to act or what to do and so I forced her to come with us. Looking back, that was really stupid but again, I was known as Virgin to them all and what if he tried to hold my hand?
During that night, it felt awkward slow dancing and felt like everyone was watching us. I became overwhelmed and nervous and wasn't sure I was comfortable. When I escaped to the rest room, he asked my best friend if she thought I would be his girlfriend, to which she told him no, because I also had a crush on his friend.
The rest of the night was a disaster of awkwardness because as it was true I like another one of our friends, I really liked him more and had been waiting for him to ask me out. In fact, my birthday is the end of November and I remember wishing before I blew out my candles that he would ask me to the dance.
Needless to say, he distanced himself that evening and what I thought would be the perfect first day, was in fact, not.
The notes went back to just during math.
I told myself it was better this way as he made me really nervous anyway. I didn't know anything about having a boyfriend and it was stupid to want one. In the months of freshman year, he held my hand once and only for a minute as I ripped it from his, freaking out that everyone was staring at us. I crushed hard on him the remainder of the year, but another red flag waived itself in my direction and I never picked up on it. At the last dance of the school year, my friends and I decided to go. My best friend still knowing of my deep crush, continued to be encouraging. Most of my friends, if not all knew by this time, I was hoping for more between us than what was, but nothing was becoming of it. As the night worn down, I danced with a friend who later became my defender. With that last slow dance, we joked and laughed and just had a great time. My best friend was dancing with my crush so, I didn't think anything of it, until things seemed to still around me and my friend tightened his hold and told me not to turn around. But of course, as predicted in any movie or book, I did.
Best friend was kissing my crush. Right there, in the middle of the school dance, only a few feet from me. I was shocked and things happened fast when they stopped and looked over to see me and all our friends staring. I ran. Crush tried to stop me, but as I said my defender came to and prevented that. I escaped the school but not Bestie because I was to spend the night at her house. I remained quiet the entire night and she insisted it was an accident. A "in the moment" kind of thing.
Teenage drama at its best. I walked home that night from her house and refused to talk to her and crush for the remainder of the school year. I pretended like it hadn't hurt me and went about my life as if I was fine though I was crushed inside. She knew I liked him and kissed him anyway!
Just because we weren't talking in school, didn't keep the phone from ringing after. After a week of avoiding the phone, I finally picked it up. To hear his reason, to know why he kissed my best friend.
He used her line. "Caught in the moment. Didn't mean it." Stupid, naive. In that phone call he told me he loved me. How can you love someone but kiss someone else? I didn't know how to process this and so I agreed that friendship could be something we could work on.
And when the last week of school came, I assumed we wouldn't talk until school started back up again. Yet, he strangely asked me to be the guest at his brother's birthday party.
Again, I was terrified but giddy all at the same time. I met his entire family that day and shared my first kiss with him. And then summer pushed between us and other than occasional phone calls, nothing else became of that kiss.
Fast forward to fall of sophomore year when I became his girlfriend. And secrets began.
Bình luận