Speaking Up

I know I should do it more often but when I do I get so anxious and terrified. I go over it and over it. "I should have said that differently." "Maybe I shouldn't have cried when I said it?" "Oh, I should have said this too." Even if I consciously know that I was encouraged to speak up and that it's important to, it doesn't matter. My head will think all kinds of scary thoughts. My body will have all kinds of tense reactions and I'll feel sick and drained.

I also know there's nothing wrong in saying how I feel. I'm not malicious about it. I don't attack people. I learned effective communication skills a long time ago. But I also learned that speaking up has gotten me hurt in the past. I often think I'm way too old to be feeling these things. This is how you felt in high school. You're not in high school anymore. This is how you felt living at home as a child. You're not a child anymore and you're not in an abusive household. This sounds exactly like what (insert abuser's name here) would say to me. But this is not (abuser) and that is so far behind you.

So, why the cycle? I know, I know. It's been explained to me that PTSD can be very cyclic and also that you may think you're totally fine and then years later you see or hear something that reminds you of a horrible incident and sets you on the cycle again. But this is daily. I swear. I can't even exist without someone saying something horrible (usually in a joking way) which is totally not funny at all and not funny to people who have experienced the horror these people throw around like a joke. At least in public. Here at home with my husband, the most I have to experience is the horrid shit people put on the internet. I can shut that off. And I do.

But I'm not the confrontational type. I don't expect the world or anyone in it to move or accomodate for me and my needs. But if I do speak on it, it shouldn't be ridiculed. No human being should have to walk around and feel unsafe. But I don't feel safe. And I can't even remember if there was ever a time in my life when I did. 

I see other perspectives. I try to put myself in the shoes of people who do horrible things and  try to figure out why. Maybe something horrible happened to them? I feel for them. But I still don't understand what it takes to be an awful person. I should be glad not to know that probably.

So, I've just been in vent mode today. Crying and venting. But I can feel myself shutting down. Silence is better. Just let it all fester but don't let anyone see. That's an exhausting motto. But to protect myself, I might just have to start doing that again.