Post-traumatic Stress Disorder

Flashbacks. Nightmares. Fear. I feel like I have been reliving the most terrible moments of my life every single night, every time I let sleep take over my body. I wake up continuously throughout the night, sweat dripping off of me like I just got finished doing a four mile run or like I was running away from a killer clown. I can't tell if it actually happened or if it's just a very vivid nightmare. Night after night, the same thing, same endings but different dreams. I feel like I have no power in any of them, I always lose. I hate any type of uncle/niece relationship. Just hearing someone say "my uncle" makes me tense up. I can't do certain things anymore without it triggering something the fear in me, but all I can do is take a deep breathe and push through it, keep going.

"Sammie, don't you want to say hi to your uncles and aunts?" I looked at my mother, shaking my head no quickly and walking away from her to say hi to my cousins. I rather not and it wasn't that I had a problem with my other uncles or anything like that and I knew my mother knew that. It just terrified me, made my anxiety go up. I sat down on the couch, my cousins and brother playing video games and messing around with each other. It made me happy seeing them enjoying their time. "How was the drive up here?" We lived in Connecticut and they lived in Georgia. It was a drive alright, but flights costs a lot, especially when you have four kids. "Annoying. All Ayden did was cry and the other two would not stop arguing."

Every now and then my cousins would come up here to spend time with us. None of them were really my age, so it wasn't very enjoyable for me. The only thing I did was watch the babies for the parents, I was the babysitter. Which I don't mind as much, I love kids. My brother, on the other hand, he loved when they came up to visit. He enjoyed having people to play with him, being the youngest it made sense. We all claim to be "too old" to do the things he enjoyed to do. Ethan was the youngest, meaning he got all the attention from our mom, but also got picked on the most by us. It was normal sibling things. It was also the twenty first century, he still enjoyed playing baseball outside while we rather sit on our phones all day.

I remember when I told him about what happened to me, every time my dad would ask me to go ask my uncle something and Ethan would go ask my uncle for me. He was really helpful, I appreciated it a lot. It sucked my dad was the last to know, I wish I could've told him. In fact, I wish I had told everyone a lot sooner than I did. It didn't seem as simple as that before though, it felt a lot more difficult.

After getting the help I needed, it seemed to get a lot more difficult. Exactly what I thought would happen. Everyone was always watching me, new therapists, psychiatrists, and new medications. It was getting more and more exhausting. My every move being watched got really old and don't get me wrong, everyone caring about me so much really meant the world. I just felt like I was suffocating, I never had space for myself. Even after all this, I still made everyone feel guilty. Everything I did or said, it made everyone feel bad. I tried my best to not do so, to not make it seem like it's their fault, because it wasn't. It never was, I just wanted my family apart of my life, but it seems like I shouldn't have let them in.

"Sammie, come meet some new people, they knew you when you were a little baby." I hear my mom call out, making me sigh in frustration as I headed to the kitchen. "Hi! Nice to meet you, I'm Samira." I waved to the two adults, a female and a male. They introduced themselves and said hi to me. I couldn't remember who they were, my memory got more worse as my trauma affected me more. They looked at me like they knew what happened to me. I could tell, it was the look everyone gave me after they found out. It was a look I've seen by so many people.

I smiled slightly, sitting down beside my mom. I knew it would've been rude to just walk away without chatting, I just really disliked new people. I didn't want to hang out with the kids either so I just spent time with the adults, helping my mom cook and clean up a bit. I wanted her to just sit down and talk to them, but that wasn't my mother. She was always cooking or working, she couldn't just sit there and do nothing.

After the party, I was dropped off at home. I was completely exhausted. There were so many kids running around and adults cheering from the football game they were watching. I was glad to be able to lay in my bed and relax, no one could give me the that pathetic pity look. I laid there that night; thoughts filled my head. Yeah, I was glad to be home, but at the same time, I absolutely hated being alone. It left me to my thoughts and the voices, stirring my head and making me dizzy. I was really glad to be exhausted, even though I knew my bad dreams would destroy me like every single night.

I couldn't sleep even if I tried, I knew the nightmares, the flashbacks, would come. I didn't want to wake up in a puddle of my sweat over and over. I didn't;'t want to relive the terrible memories.