I have written a lot about my travels in this blog and along the way the journey of healing. But that journey and the journey of self-discovery, self-realisation and self-acceptance is the longest journey of all.
I had cause at the weekend to reflect on the magnitude of the effect of post traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) on my life. I would give anything not to have this; I have gone so far as to pretend to myself that I do not. But I do.
I walked in on a horrific act of barbarity and became trapped in that moment. The blood, the smell, the heat of that morning sticks to my skin like a jacket I cannot disrobe. I did not experience fear for myself in that moment, but horror and a desperate need to keep alive a friend and colleague. It was only after the police came that I realised how vulnerable I had been. How one man I had never before met would decide if I would escape that day with my life.
The fear set in after and has not left me since. It has been more than a year and I am still haunted by flashbacks and panic attacks and nightmares.
To the outside world, I think it appears as if I am normal, coping. But those close to me know there are days I struggle to keep the mask on. That my fragility can be seen and the vulnerability of that makes me furious.
There is an upside of course; there always is, sometimes hidden deep within the emotion, but if you look hard enough, you can find it.
A couple of days after the experience, I went to the beach and will never forget how damned good it felt to feel the wind. To be outside in the open, to not be in that room with the smell and the blood and the mad man and my friend whose life was slowly slipping away. I have embraced the wind ever since. It is a frequent reminder that every minute of my life is a blessing. I stretch out my arms and open my mouth and let the wind fill me up and cleanse me. Such a simple thing but the deepest, most tangible reminder of how lucky I am.
I have spent the last few months desperately wanting to get on a plane. To be somewhere else. To be someone else. But maturity and responsibility have kept me tied to the world. A blessing and a curse. I am grateful for my new job and the opportunities presented to me. I am grateful for my life and the fact my friend and colleague survived. I am grateful for the generosity of spirit and love my family and friends continue to afford me.
But I am also struggling to understand. And when the smallest incident triggers a severe anxiety attack when I least expect it, I struggle to understand the sense of it all.
I am getting on a plane again soon with my son. We are going to explore Japan together. And I am so looking forward to this.
But as terribly cliched as it sounds, I know I will also be taking myself with me. I cannot escape where I have been and what I saw that day. But hopefully with time it will lessen and gratitude will become the stronger of my emotions, the PTSD will abate and I will get my life back. Until then, I just have to hold on for all I am worth! Wish me luck.