Naked Hiker Delicate Arch, Arches National Park, UT

Recovery is delicate. Delicate the way a single feather can tip a scale or sound can cause an avalanche. The "road to recovery" has never been paved, without obstacle or even flat. This is especially true for those with PTSD, Anxiety, Depression and other mental illness, as they are never really gone. The unpredictability in triggers and intensity, make living with these conditions all the more exhausting. Even on the best days, there is a significant amount of energy spent keeping these negative feelings and thoughts at bay.

On my worst days, no amount of my own skill can save me. On my worst days, I see mountains blocking my road. I feel the need to quit and sometimes hope that my heart will just stop because this is the end. I am so exhausted that I need it to be over so I can finally just be. On these days I need a demolition crew, who see this mountain for the boulder that it is. Rather than tell me it is a boulder or to "suck it up", they say "Let's blow this mountain up!" (because even Mount Everest is not invincible) or "How do you eat an elephant?" (For those of you who aren't aware of the proper way to eat elephants, it is one bite at a time). In these past few days, I have realized the true struggle of being an expat is not the leaving of the comfort zone or getting accustomed to new cultures, it is not being able to get to your demolition crew. Their tactics are reduced to texts that marginally reduce their effect.

Over the weekend I ran into the guy who I wrote about in 'Naked Hiker some random pull out in Zion Canyon'.

I had not seen or heard from him in almost a year. I tried to pretend I was someone who had never met him. It worked until I was paged by my full name over the loudspeaker. Some good Samaritan had found my purse. Once he had confirmation it was definitely me, my heart began to race. I was reduced to my lizard brain; the need to run, to flee so he could not hurt me. Today was a good day, I had control until I tried to tell the friends I was with that saw him and that I was activated. The response was that of a 'That's unfortunate. Let's go to lunch.' On the way to lunch, I was further activated by a homeless man who felt it appropriate to touch my arm and makes flirtatious gestures as we wait to cross the street. I wanted to cry but was met by stone walls. Lunch ended with "Today just isn't your day." While I am aware it was not meant in spite, at that moment it was a power off switch; shut down because no one wants to know what I am going through.

The night terrors in which I have to fight my own body to breath normal and fight my own brain to tear down my perpetrator's apartment walls to expose the burnt yellow of my bedroom were reduced to nightmares. Unintentionally this moment invalidated the horror I have been living through the past few nights, once again shutting me down because no one wants to hear these kinds of things.

I realized that my night terrors are not being fueled by Sean Kelly, Trevor Hanh or Luke Lorraine. They are being fueled by the awareness that no one here loves me enough to hold my pieces when I break, to reassure me that I am safe to break down and rebuild. The truth is my demolition crew does not destroy mountains, they collect and hold my pieces, while I rebuild myself to see a boulder. They are the best friends who love me unconditionally at my worst, knowing that it is temporary but I need their hugs to hold me. Recovery is about the rebuilt, the constant adaptation to new triggers and being supported in all of your forms.

#Connectivity #PTSD #NakedHiker #Hope #love #Hugs #BestFriends #Love #Depression #Keepliving