Where the Cold Warms Me

JOURNAL ENTRY | " Devastated"

People ask me sometimes how I'm feeling. And when I say " devastated ", they think it's too much too dramatic. But it's not. I say " devastated " because I lived more than I can explain. I have PTSD, sure, but it's deeper than that. What I feel is like post-secondary trauma- Pain that echoes long after the wound. Pain that just shows up because I'm awake. Pain that lingers in the fact that I'm still conscious. It's not physical. It's something colder. Sometimes I wake up and feel like I'm buried. Not in a coffin- But in the dirt. And I can taste the soil. I can smell the earth like it's been packed into my lungs. I feel like I've died. And something disturbed me. And now I'm awake- but not at peace.So I go outside into the cold and let the chill hit me, because sometimes that coldness feels like the only honest thing. And as I stand there, freezing, something strange happens- I warm up.It's not suicidal.It's not hopelessness.It's a longing. Grief for peace! And it doesn't just go away just because the sun comes up.I'm not saying it because this is so someone can worry about me. No not at all! This journal is where I can breathe out.