The Broken Matter

I’m awake late once again, swimming in a pool of my own self-doubt and these thoughts that encircle my mind. I’m trying to figure out how to make it through in a system that keeps me stuck and a life that makes me feel captive. I have had my fight or flight response enacted so many times that I’ve become a wild thing, unable to stay tethered in any one place. I migrate with the seasons, in my mental health and in my locations. I’m so very close to getting a truck but I still can’t get my license. I can trade my fifth wheel for something more taken care of but them I’d have to give up the truck. I do not want to do that.

The fifth wheel suits me, barely functional but worn down with age and neglect. I try to fix each thing as it comes along and it feels as if that is all that I can handle in my day to day life. I’m struggling financially, mentally, and existentially. I think about all of the people that have been struggling with housing and find myself so blessed to at least have this, still knowing that there is a time constraint and a countdown toward my inevitable move. I wanted to stay, and then I got triggered by an abuser of power.

I got a job right away but I can’t keep it. The darkness that comes with caring for those that are stuck in an in-between makes me think of myself entirely too much. I don’t belong here, society enforces that with my everything I do. I am being punished for mistakes and the system has made me a prisoner. Everywhere I look there are obstacles that I try to skirt around and hurdles that I am too handicapped to clear. I was failed by a system that paints me as a person that should pay, but at what price?

I want to start a narrative, a story of others who are experiencing the same agonizing fate. This Sisyphus curse that keeps me in a never-ending cycle of rising to the top, only to slide backward under the unbearable weight that I keep attempting to get over. I want to watch the weight disappear into a ravine on the other side, never to be seen again. I want it to no longer be a part of my world.

I spoke with a friend tonight who also has PTSD and we marveled at how ineffective we have been in retaining stability. We also both agree that we must’ve done something terrible in a past life and now is our reckoning. I said that we are broken, but we are not completely; we are recovering. I don’t have the tools to do so however, and I need something more. I’m reaching out for it in the dark, looking for a beacon of light to guide the way. I’ve been here for so long that it seems normal and that’s what scares me the most. I’m tired of running from; I just want to run to. I wanna run toward something new and hopeful, not visit the dying every night and be reminded of being stuck inside of a body and mind that doesn’t work in congruence. I will not stop drinking from life’s fountain. I have not lost my appetite for life. I cannot join them in their fate.

My appetite is longing for true sustenance though. I am no longer interested in living a life of discord, where I go to a job every day that slowly breaks me, to dwindle minutely with each punch of the clock. I am going to start looking for another woman like me and write about it. I will choose a new person every block of classes (8 weeks) once I obtain my license. I’m going to share this person’s story along with mine. Just because we cannot tame our beasts, does not mean that we are feral. Or maybe we are. I want to take a true journey into the causes of trauma and how it’s led us to where we are: on the side of the road, sticking our thumbs out hopefully, wondering if anyone should care to give us a lift. Where will it take me? Can I even get to the starting point? All I know is that it sounds better to me than wasting away inside four walls, unable to express myself, lighten my load, and see the world that I have been denied thus far. Perhaps I can take some of you with me. As you read line after line, you can follow along to see what destination I might reach.

Author: jessicaambateman

I am a survivor of childhood abuse on the verge of speaking out. I have waited my whole life to have the luxury of spilling my guts and blogging is going to become part of that journey.

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