I Hate Being Human

Sometimes it makes me so mad how much my trauma affects my life.

I never used to get mad about what’s happened to me. I think now it’s because I know how it feels when I’m doing good. What a feeling. Then my brain reminds me that I still have battles I’m going to face. The fact that I’m human. I hate being human. Some of the struggles are choices but some are from my brain forever being altered. I think it’s during the moments I feel most human and need people that add to the lows.

I don’t like needing people. I don’t really like wanting people either. Part of that is probably because I’ve never really had people long enough for that. Or the people I had still didn’t help me with needing to do things for myself.

I’ve hit my first patch of struggle after months of doing pretty well. In ways the best, I’ve felt in many years. It makes me mad. I think partially because I just have to wait until it passes. Yes, there are things I can do to make it feel less extreme. Things I am trying to do. I still have to push through these feelings until I see the end.

Some of these feelings won’t die off until after April as we have hit March which is the month my aunt went into the hospital seven years ago. That alone is a number that is hard on me because soon no part of my body will have been touched by her. Every seven years all of the cells in our skin have died and new ones have replaced them. That is a weird and hard feeling.

I know a part of me is just mourning. Something I can’t control. Anniversaries haven’t been hard for me except for the anniversary of my aunt’s death and the time leading up to that.

It’s also a little annoying because I know I am in a better place because she is gone. I wouldn’t have accomplished what I have if she had still been here. That still doesn’t stop me from doing life without her and struggling with that.

After living so much of my life in survival mode when certain parts of my life become “normal” I feel as if I am in danger. In some ways, I start to become paranoid, especially with those close to me. I start to think that the safe feelings I am feeling with them are going to disappear. That is when I catch myself being distant from them. In ways to prepare for the inevitable. Saying goodbye to the ones I love the most.

You get so used to living in misery that when it starts to go away you miss it. It’s not that you like the pain but because that is all you know.