It's a brisk November morning, and I'm not quite awake enough to determine how I feel today. I lie in bed trying to collect myself, do a few breathing exercises and distract myself with Facebook for a few minutes. Usually, after about ten minutes of lying there, I'm able to have a general prediction of what kind of day I'm going to have. I do this every morning, every day. Wake up, breathe, sleep, repeat.

I never quite know what my day is going to be like, though I can get a general idea every morning by trying to clear my mind, because I'm still not sure what all of my triggers are. It could be a sound, smell, brightness setting on a device, anything. Sometimes, it's a trigger that makes absolutely zero sense, and other times I'm able to piece together why it's making me panic. Sometimes, the same trigger will throw me into a panic attack, other times it's just a one-time situation. Sometimes, my panic attacks are silent and barely visible, consisting of a minor increased heart rate or flinch before I resume my normal day. Other times, everything disappears as if I'm reliving the exact moment, and I feel like my world has lost all control.

I still don't remember everything about the abuse I experienced. Many say this is a defense mechanism commonly found in complex PTSD, where the mind forces a lost memory in order to protect one's sanity.

I've come to recognize that many of my recurring triggers are simple things such as a certain cologne (which I never can remember what it smells like until I'm in that moment), sirens (particularly ambulances), loud noises such as dropping something heavy accidentally, dark enclosed spaces, clowns, and my face going under a body of water.

Many of my memories I have from my abusive relationship stem from realizing that I'm having a panic attack - most of them come back to me in the form of tiny flashbacks that I'm forced to piece together into one scenario. Because of this, some of my memories are incomplete. For example, I remember being locked in a dark space for quite some time, but I don't remember why, for how long, or for certain where it was I was located. As sick as it sounds, I have to rely on having another extreme flashback from that very situation in order to gain another piece of the story.

A lot of people wonder why I would want to remember such horrific things I had to endure. Personally, I feel like it's part of my healing process and that it can help others by hearing my story. I know that subconsciously those memories are locked away somewhere, and maybe I can better understand myself if I'm able to get them out in the open.

It's exhausting sometimes. I have moments where it's difficult to breathe. Moments that take me back to when I almost lost my life and I try to block out any more memories before I absolutely lose my mind. But then there are those moments of blissful relief when I can finally piece together an entire moment, talk about it, and let go. It's a beautiful and wonderful feeling, and the pain I experience while reliving this nightmare I once experienced just makes me stronger each and every day.

Eventually, I'll be able to put those situations into words and share exactly what I went through. It's going to be graphic, and disturbing, and sick, and twisted, but it's the hideous truth of what was once a breathtaking lie.

I'll get there eventually, and I will survive. I always do.

With love,

Em.