In some ways, PTSD can be like the blister that never goes away, always getting rubbed raw just as it was about to heal. That's the bad news. The good news is that I see things I wouldn't have seen before because I was too much into protect-myself-and-survive mode. Slowly "new" truths begin to emerge from the depths, helping me to understand some of the reasons I do the things I do. These truths are often like layers of an onion; you come across them again and again but on deeper levels. When the truths first bubble up, they are raw, bringing fresh tears. Tears outside of movies are rare for me, so I know I've touched something deep when I makes me cry.
I'm a bit of a recluse at times and now realize I withdraw to protect myself. The painful truth I realized this past week was a new facet of my seclusion: I don't reach out to others because folk rarely reach out to me. No one in my family has called me in almost a year. To be fair, I haven't called them either but it leaves me feeling sort of alone in the world. I've got God, but sometimes you just need a shoulder to cry on or a friend with whom to laugh.
How I came to realize this was interesting. I was talking to my therapist about how I had a hard time finding a way to help a friend going through a rough patch. We talked about different ways and one of the things I realized was that I could send her a card. I wondered why I hadn't thought of that before; I know she loves cards.
Then I realized why: I don't reach out just because I fear rejection but because it reminds me how seldom others reach out to me. While I do enjoy being alone, there are many times that I'm lonely and I rarely do anything about it.
So I've resolved to at least try to send those I love little cards from time to time and not expect anything in return. It is okay to give and it not be returned. I can be okay with that now.
