What's Underneath My Brave Facade as Someone With Complex PTSD
I’m a well-known life coach with great reach in Brazil who walks around ostensively putting up a brave facade — but I live in fear.
I’m not scared of the monster in the closet or beneath my bed. I’m afraid of what I carry along with me, wherever I go.
I’m scared of my past and the scars I carry covered with great patches of self-confidence and resoluteness.
I live in fear.
Most days I can’t look at myself in the mirror because I don’t like the image the mirror reflects back at me. I live in a constant battle between trying to feel better about myself and trying to accept my looks.
I live in fear.
I’m afraid of bedtime. I can’t sleep without medication to help keep my fears caged. If I don’t take my meds, they wake me up every single time I fall asleep, as if saying I have to stay alert to fight for myself, fend for myself, if need be.
And this is something I seem to do well most times. But upon a closer look, I fail. I take on more than I should, I don’t know my limits and I hate conflict or confrontation.
But you can’t tell that by looking at me. You can’t notice it by my brave facade. You wouldn’t think so based on my accomplishments. I am a great, successful, self-made woman who also empowers others. I am all of that.
But I am also scared. I also need approval, physical touch, attention, admiration and love. I feel burdened a lot of times. I can’t do it all, though many times I think I can. I know so much and live in my mind because I feel safer there. I carry the weight of the world on my shoulders and sometimes I am carried on the arms of those who love me.
I’m all that other people think I am, and much more. I’m all of my flaws, fears and failures. I’m my neediness. I’m a fighter and a complainer. I want to evolve and bring others with me. I hate the intricacies of human relationships, but I love them too.
I’m a mess. An organized and intellectual mess.
Photo by Callie Gibson on Unsplash