It’s been a rough day, well it’s hard to explain. I woke up feeling so exhausted. All I wanted to do was go back to sleep. I was in it. That comfortable depression. I somehow managed a shower and my meds. But what got me here, that has to do with what I told you yesterday. After, I read those journals and my boyfriend got out of his meeting, on our way back, I told him about it. Somehow, he ended up talking about how if I’m going to go down this road, dealing with trauma, using exposure therapy, I should start with the biggest one first. That way the others would be easier to handle. 
He had a point. 
But, before I tell you what I did next, let me tell you something about this trauma. I have never spoken of my feelings about it to another living soul. I have never written about it in a journal of mine. I have pushed it so far down that it has never popped up in my mind. For me, this is my hole, the one I was afraid that if I went in, I would not get out. The one thing I would not dare face because I didn’t, don’t think there is any coming back from it. It is the only thing, in my life, I believe I can never get over. 
To many of you, it may not seem like a trauma. It may not seem bad at all but I’ll tell you, I’ve heard it all before. And unless you actually know what it’s like because most people don’t, then I kindly ask you to not say anything. I can see it from a non bias, well the other side perspective but this is mine. This happened to me. I know all about the reasons. How good the intention may have been. But please, respect my side of things as well, that’s all I ask. 
Well, I took my boyfriends words and told him I would start to talk to him about it. Then we stopped somewhere, so I could use the lady’s room and the idea just hit me. Like bricks. 
I decided I would not speak about it but rather I would write a letter. A letter finally pouring out my true feelings to the person that I couldn’t ever tell them to. The whole way back, I was writing this, anger swelling inside me. 
I couldn’t finish the letter because it got too much but I read it out loud to him. I finally spoke my truth to someone. For the first time ever, I let it out, in writing and out loud. 
When we got back he asked me, if this person were here, right in front of you, what would you say? I told him I wouldn’t say anything because I don’t want to hurt them. He told me, he would get them to listen to me, so I could tell them, because I also would tell them something that would not hurt them. I think he wants me to have peace. 
Going down that hole, I didn’t think, I’d be okay but I’m here right now writing this. To tell you, I feel in a way at peace. I’m going to add to my letter and then post it after I post this. The more I talk about it, the more it’s out there… The more I begin to heal. 
On the car ride to therapy, I listened to 2 songs on repeat. One, gave me the answer I was looking for. The other, a song that had meaning about this, I hadn’t been able to hear but it didn’t make me cry. I felt strong. 
So, finally, who is this person and what was the trauma? She’s my birth mom and it’s my adoption. 



Why did I just put myself through that? Earlier, I was looking at an old journal app, I have on my iPad. It only has three entries, from 2013. I read them in chronological order. The last, was the beginning of what would end up being the biggest trauma in my life. I didn’t know it at the time, since it was speculation.
Reading that, gave me the dumb fucking idea to bring my journals from the time of the trauma, well the days and months after, to read, as I sit in the car waiting for my boyfriend while he’s in a meeting. 

I have always been a firm believer in exposure therapy. Especially for PTSD. That’s because I’ve used it before to desensitize myself to being sexually, physically mentally and emotionally abused. It really worked, at least in the sense that when I passed my exes house, I would not freak out. 
Anyways, I am sitting in this car, and I begin to read. The first entry, 4 days after the trauma. The entry is an exact, word for word description of what happened. How much more exposure can you get!? Now, I’m hysterical, I am reliving this all over again. Minute details I forgot. 
It’s been 4 years, and I don’t think I’ll ever get over this. But, I think this was a good first step. I’d rather confront this on my own terms, than in therapy. On my own time, in the comfort and privacy of my own space. Where I feel safe. 
I think I can do this. I’ve done it before.