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Waiting for the Sun to Rise

A Story of PTSD

By Alberto DelaneyPublished 6 years ago 8 min read
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Watching my best friend at the time getting hit and killed by a drunk driver changed my life forever. Many many years later, I learned to accept it and to change that incident into a positive one but before I had learned to do that, it took over my life in a very negative, self destructive way, to the point of attempting to take my life many times. This is the story of when I felt truly hopeless.

You ever feel off during your day? Maybe a couple days? Maybe a week? Well, I felt “off” for many months after Rachel’s death. There was something in my mind that was slowly growing, waiting to explode, breakthrough and show me a darkness that many people suffer from but I never thought I would be a victim of it. I went to see a therapist a month or so after the incident, and she basically said in fancy words that I was still in shock and may be mildly depressed but to keep coming before I was prescribed anything to help me. I never had a great relationship with my mother and she would periodically try to help me move on and I would retaliate to her nice gestures with anger. I did not believe anyone could help me, not even the therapist. The longer I postponed accepting help, the more negative and powerful emotions grew in my mind. I felt stuck in the past, stuck in the repetition of the nightmare, replaying it over and over and over in my head, blaming myself for the whole event. This made me angrier and angrier for I felt like it was done to me. I was selfish thinking that my life now sucks because of what happened and I could not do anything about it. I wanted this pain to stop but I also didn’t want to do anything about it because I felt like I deserved it for not being able to help or save her.

During my first couple years in high school I was (in my friend groups) considered the funny new guy since a lot of them went to elementary school together. Right then and there made it more difficult for me to make friends since I felt that I would be a burden to their existing relationships, but I did make some friends. I was terrified though to get close to anyone in case the universe would take them away from me. So instead of creating healthy coping mechanisms and relationships, I would act out in class so people would think I was cool and funny. I would have a “cool guy ego,” which was acting like you don’t care about anything. I would not care about school work, I would skip class to smoke or go to lunch instead of class, I would do everything and anything to distract myself from being in pain, remembering that fucking day. I just wanted to belong. My freshman and sophomore year I was attempting to control my thoughts by trying to forget about them and distracting my mind by playing sports which worked but as soon I was done practice or a game and my mental wall came down, I was right back to where I started. Angry, hateful, resentful, and mean. At night when I was sleeping (if I slept) I would have intense nightmares of monsters, demons, death, sadness, anger, every negative thing you can think of. I would wake up crying, screaming, couldn’t breathe, or confused and forget for a bit where I was. Then I found my two best friend: a razor and drugs. To ease my pain during the day and when I woke up from my nightmares I’d cut myself, usually on my legs since I showed my arms a lot, but I still would cut myself on my arms, just to feel physical pain. To see the pain I was causing instead of feeling the mental and emotional pain was to me far better than being tormented by mind. The drugs allowed me to escape my reality for a period of time and made me have this illusion of feeling at peace. Then one day the demon broke through my mind like a bullet.

It was near the end of my freshman year, I’m with my friends, we got out of our last class and we wanted to get Chick-fil-a. It’s right across the street from my school so we decided to walk there. We get the the part where we have to cross the street and I started to feel really uneasy. Like my body was getting hot and staticky. I walk across and then I saw it clear as day. Rachel walking across the street right in front of me, her beautiful hair dancing with the wind, her confident stride; I wanted to run to her to give her a hug, but before I could move forward, the car hit her and she went flying. The part of me that was holding onto this reality snapped. I got lost in the memory and I ran to “Rachel” and started crying and screaming, then I felt people grabbing me away and fought their hands to let me go so could touch Rachel again, thinking it would bring me some sort of peace. My friends tried to comfort me not knowing what truly was going on or what to do but I couldn’t understand what was going on or why it felt so real. I wanted to be alone. I wanted to see her again. I wanted to die.

I couldn’t distinguish reality from memories; every fucking day was impossible for me to live in any state besides hopelessness, misery, and in the past. I lost my identity. Who was I? Where am I? Is today real? Is it all just a dream? Or am I really awake and breathing? I not only felt mentally and physically depleted but soulfully depleted. I was a shell and all inside of me was self hate, self anger, and self blame. The only things that made me feel better was either self harm or taking drugs. Both allowed me to escape this reality and let my mind be at somewhat bliss. I barely slept, I couldn’t forge healthy relationships with anyone, especially females. Why did I feel and act this way? Well, because healing, love, happiness, belonging, joy — they all felt dangerous. The worst part was forgetting what happened felt dangerous. I could not let go. I was always on survival mode for myself even when it meant that I was destroying my ability to create relationships, my ability to accept myself, my ability to stay sober. I was diagnosed with Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder at age 16 and it had impacted my life heavily in a negative way. I felt alone; no one knew how to handle me when I had an episode or even when I put myself in my hole I dug for myself since it felt right and comfortable for me instead of opening up. I was frozen in time and I was waiting for the sun to rise, waiting for some sort of light to show me and guide me out of this misery. Then I found my faith.

My faith opened my eyes to love and self acceptance. Learning Buddhism, Hinduism, Taoism, taught me that I am the universe experiencing itself in different forms. The past nor future exist and we only have the now. Live and love now and you shall have a more beneficial life. Do not let negative experiences nor your thoughts control who you are. Finally years later after, when I graduated high school I found peace within myself and the world. I stopped blaming myself for something I had no control over. I learned to let go of pain. I finally learned to love myself and use that horrible experience to benefit my life in a positive manner. I could form amazing relationships with the right people, I could open up to my friends and myself, I could organize my negative thoughts, I could truly finally smile and mean it. Now, I still have PTSD and it most likely will never go away and occasionally I’ll have and episode, but it isn’t as intense or as long and I can somewhat control it so I’m not screaming and crying (as much). This was all thanks to medication (still use it today), friends, loved ones, monks, motivational speakers showing me to look at the world in a different perspective, and my will to be a happier person through love and meditation.

Just a little bit of advice my friends, you are not alone. There are always people ready and wanting to help you through whatever you’re going through, but you have to truly want the help and accept it. You don’t have to be in pain forever. This world is an experience and it is up to you to either let it all benefit you or break you. Love is the most powerful emotion in this known universe and if you open up yourself to it, you too can be saved, loved, and be a beacon of light for others.

~Life happens for us, not to us.

ptsd
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About the Creator

Alberto Delaney

I enjoy figuring out the "whys" in life, and hearing other peoples stories and experiences so I can learn more about them and myself. I have my degree in behavioral psych and a part time motivational speaker. Never stop thinking and loving

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