… tomorrow is a new day (part 2)

Hello blogging world! 🙂

Firstly thank you for all the lovely comments on my previous posts (tomorrow is a new day and through a grey mist) where I write about PTSD, resilience and being a survivor.

When I began writing ‘tomorrow is a new day’, I had expectations of being able to convey how I, and probably many other people, cope with adversity with a fighting spirit. I am a resilient person (took quite a bit of effort to type that, being someone who doubts herself at every opportunity) and no matter what, I have somehow managed to bounce back and carry on.

Writing about a fictional workplace situation to give an understanding of how resilience may falter given continuous adversity was easy, I am fortunate that I have never been a victim of workplace bullying. However, when I started to explain how I managed/coped/fell apart at the seams (delete as appropriate) during my treatment, I became a classic example of PTSD in action. In writing about (and it’s happening again right now). In writing about it (unable to type the words, so glossing over) I became overwhelmed with the same emotions I experienced each time I walked up and sat at the top of “my” hill.

I am ok, I really am. I know some of you were concerned.

I have actually had a good day. Got up early to go for a run. My younger son wasn’t well and was off school, so I needed to run and be home before hubby left for work. Got a 5k PB!!! 😀
Had a relaxed day with my son and was forced (totally against my will?!) to go to Pizza Hut for lunch… the sacrifices I make for my kids! And have just made pizza with my older son for him and hubby.
So, a good day. A happy start and a happy everything except for the moment when I wrote about my cancer/coping/resilience stuff.

PTSD is real.
PTSD makes sense of our emotions/reactions that seem to not make sense.
PTSD lurks in the background and can flip a person from being calm, relaxed, happy to tearful, anxious and overwhelmed.
I don’t regret writing, as if nothing else, the whole experience highlights how PTSD works, sneakily waiting in the wings to pounce.

life sucks


One comment on “… tomorrow is a new day (part 2)”

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.