Death, violence and abuse...I've seen them once in reality and had them haunt me throughout my life.Sometimes I can't sleep at night because of them. The memories. Sometimes I wake in the middle of the night because of them...I take medication that doesn't keep them from disturbing me. Most of my fellow believers (brothers and sisters in Christ) may say that I need to demand the enemy to return my peace to me...kick him out of my house. Although I understand where they come from, after being tortured with the memories since I've seen or heard the incidents, I have commanded that the devil flee and believe it or not, it didn't work. What has worked for me is to deal with the memories by talking and writing about them. I came to realize that, when real things happen to us, the only true release we have is to share them so that the enemy can no longer torture us in secret about them. I hope you understand what I'm saying. Every secret we keep isolates us and retards our growth. God has delivered me from sections of memories at a time simply because my storage of violent memories is so vast. Therefore, asking my heavenly Father what I could do with my very real and vivid recollections of past trauma has eventually freed me.
You may share this post with anyone you believe it will help. My story, according to my psychiatrist, is a unique one. I have found that sharing it renders the impact of my memories innocuous. Sharing them, rather than holding them in, gives me victory over them and helps those of us who suffer as I do and have.
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For years they have tortured me. The memories and sounds of brutality and abuse: the man who held me against my will at gun point for 13 days. I was not allowed to wear clothing and was raped repeatedly as well as verbally abused while my life was threatened. I wanted to escape, but was told that I'd be shot in the head if I left the house...that someone was watching me. It was one of the reasons I became claustrophobic...one of the main reasons why, for 20 years, I've avoided closing the restroom door, why I close every door in the house when I'm in a room that leads to other rooms, why sometimes I can't stand in my classroom for a whole 90-minutes. However, I am sure that I have overcome the tears that accompanied the event because I've shared the incident both in therapy and to others. I am no longer held hostage by the memories and I see progress because I am not suffering, I am overcoming by sharing my story.Recently, I lost five people who were in my life at some point. A couple of those people I vaguely remember, but three of them I remember well. Two of them murdered while one succumbed to a past similar to mine and died of a heroine overdose. The fact that I only remembered the last two vaguely didn't help to numb the pain I felt when I learned they died. They were family members and one of them was murdered. My heart was crushed and I began to feel a plethora of emotions the main one being an intense pain. Then, the flashbacks came...
There's something about watching someone die, especially if they are murdered. You never forget it: the sounds (gunshots, screams (screams that, at times, resonate through my head and ricochet through my soul), moans and gurgling...the struggle for breathing, the loss of breath) the blood, the contorted position of the body, the look of nothingness as the soul leaves the body, the aroma of death (it's more than a smell, it's something atmospheric a sort of morbidly hanging darkness). You never see life and death the same...all of a sudden the thought of murder immobilizes you. The more of it you see, the more it affects you later (if you ever get out of that environment). If you continue to live in an area where it is necessary to live in survival mode, your instincts protect you from the flashbacks, but, once you get out of it, a vehement battle ensures and that battle is for every ounce of your thinking space.
Anything around you can trigger a memory. For me, my biggest trigger is the sound of a popping balloon. When I hear a balloon pop, my mind goes back to one of many very tragic memories:
- The man I watched die when I was 11 years old. Shot in the head as I peeked through a window...like some sick voyeur, I couldn't stop looking as he absorbed bullets. I don't know how many bullets hit him, but when he was shot in the head while sitting in a car (I think he was trying to escape the bullets), I couldn't close my eyes. As the blood oozed from the wound down his chin and continued to run like a broken faucet, I tried to close my eyes, but somehow the were irrevocably glued to the act. I studied the unusual contortion of his face. My eyes were dry from looking as I continued to hear the gunshots around me. I was paralyzed.
- The day I was standing on one side of the projects talking to my friends joking around like I always did. Suddenly, a thought came to my mind with a jolt. A voice said "Go buy some potato chips." Not knowing the voice of God and doubting the existence of a God, I was surprised how easily I yielded to the voice and began to walk to Chandler's Drug Store. When my foot hit the dirt path outside of the small iron rails, in broad daylight, I heard a wild barrage of gunfire. In one instant, everyone on the side of the street in which I stood lie on the ground...some wounded...some terrified. I ran until the air burned in my lungs. I wanted to cry, but no tears would come.
- A day or two later, (in the same projects) I heard it start...gunfire...my first instinct was to run, but my feet were glued to the spot where I stood. I wanted to fall to the ground, but a voice had told me to be still. I did and one of the shooters, running and shooting at one of my friends ran past me as though I was invisible. As he fired, I heard bullets whizzing through my bubble. Two or three passed my face (one of them passed so closely that I felt the heat from the bullet). Had I moved I wouldn't be typing this; instead, my face would've covered an obituary, my name entered into the list of those we remembered for a smile or a familiar phrase. Moments later, the same shooter ran around the building shooting at his subject and his bullet entered into the corner apartment shooting a 10 year-old boy and killing him...I will never forget the screams inside of that apartment. No one knew how much I cried. The same little boy had rode by my on his bike the day before...I saw him everyday, but that day I felt it would be the last time. His birthday was the next day.
Is this it? Unfortunately, no. I have had the displeasure of witnessing so much death and violence that I am certain I could fill volumes of books! Different things trigger different memories. I know there are more to come and I'm okay with that because I know I will overcome them ALL of them with time and I am mature enough to realize that my memories are painful, so I love myself enough to take the time and acknowledge my feelings and FACE my memories rather than suppressing them. I am grateful that God has given me the grace to tackle them in increments so that I am not overwhelmed; however, I know that, if I don't deal with them, I will never be healed.
If you are suffering from PTSD (Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder), know that you are not alone. While we cannot remove the memories of these devastating events, we can learn how to cope with them and use them as tools for victory.
I have learned how to live with my trauma by relying on the Lord, but maybe you don't believe in God. In that case, I want you to know that the God in me loves you and wants you to be healed. Your sufferings are not as a result of Him preferring others over you; instead, they were a result of your environment. Believe this, if you're still here, you are strong enough to overcome it. If you are a Christian, take heed to these words: "I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world." John 16:33
Remember this: No matter who you are or where you've been, God loves you and wants to help you (so do I). His desire is to help you overcome so that you can help someone else.
If you need prayer, please inbox me.
ILY <3 xoxo <3
