Part of living with post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD)–at least for me–is kind of thinking everything is completely my fault, even when I insist outwardly that it’s not. Some of that comes from stigma. I may know I’m in the right, but when people who know I have PTSD treat me like I’m wrong just because I have PTSD, it’s hard not to internalize that.
But this time, it’s actually, undeniably not my fault.
Today’s guest post speaks for itself, so I will keep the introduction short. This Valentine’s Day, let’s celebrate a different kind of relationship. Let’s celebrate those who have the power to leave romantic relationship that are harmful, and the friendships that keep us afloat. Last week, on my birthday, I had my share of friends keep me afloat; people without whom I would not be here today. Today, you can read a letter from a young woman who herself experienced abuse, written to her dear friend who recently ended an abusive relationship. This letter is written to one specific person–who is very lucky to have such a caring friend–but it also says many things that can apply to any survivor of abuse. If you or anyone you know has experienced abuse, please read this and share it.
Kella Hanna-Wayne is the creator and writer for, Yopp!: a social justice blog that connects education, critiques, calls to action, and personal stories into one resource to lift up marginalized people and educate non-marginalized people on how to help them. For fun, Kella organizes and DJ’s at an Argentine tango dancing event in her hometown of Eugene, Oregon, bakes gluten-free masterpieces, sings loudly along with pop music, and makes cat noises. You can find her on facebook, twitter, or Instagram.
Today January 23rd, marks the one year anniversary of my very first post, called Mommy Marching with PTSD, which was all about how and why I overcame my post-traumatic stress disorder symptoms to bring my elder daughter to Womxn’s March on Seattle. Read it if you haven’t yet–it’s quite raw and ranty and fun.
I wish I could commemorate the first year with a post about attending the anniversary protest, which had been the plan, but as it happens Monday was my mother’s birthday, and Saturday–when the march took place this year–was when she decided to have a birthday ge-ttogether. Which turned into a birthday linner, or dunch, or something. In any case. I didn’t go (to the protest, I did see my mom for her birthday). But I saw photos of the turnout, and many pussy hats as I met my mom for her birthday celebration so I’m glad people are still fighting. And I do pledge to keep up the good fight via articles like this and like this and blog posts like this scripts and fictions you haven’t yet read but will someday (dear magical agent just waiting for me, please materialize and also materialize me some money). And maybe a march or two as well.