A few of you who follow me on Instagram wanted to know if my family knows about my story and how I got PTSD. The short answer is no. But, there’s more to it than that. I decided to make a blog about it because who knows, it just might help someone. So here it is.
If you have read my story, you know I haven’t always had a service dog. This was something new that came into my life around the same time that I was diagnosed with PTSD. With that said, isn’t it odd for family to see me with a service dog? Aren’t they curious? Yes, yes they are. But let’s take a step back to before I got diagnosed.
A couple of years before the diagnosis, I kind of confided in my aunt one day. It was the first time I ever spoke of it to anyone except my then boyfriend now husband. I briefly told her what had happened without going into details. I didn’t even explain in depth of how bad it really was. My aunt dismissed it with just saying, “Oh wow.” as if she didn’t believe me. It made me feel like I was a problem and that I just needed to continue to ignore it. I asked her not to say anything to anyone, but she didn’t do what I asked… Apparently she went to my uncle with it and then to my cousin, and then to my parents’ son. My aunt told them that she didn’t believe me nor would believe that my parents’ son would do anything like that. So typical, right? My cousin called me trying to stir up nonsense by trapping me. He had me on speaker phone with my parents’ son there, pestering me on why I don’t have a relationship with him. Saying that he’s my brother and wouldn’t stop carrying on about it. I told him it’s none of his business and that my parents’ son is not my brother. I don’t claim him and I never will. That immediately made me distance myself from the family. I realized how all of this was so wrong.
I then came forward to my parents and they then later addressed it with their son, who of course said that I was a crazy person and full of lies, no surprise there. Looking back, that’s what triggered everything to come out and made me get so sick. The only thing I wish that I had of done differently was hung up on my cousin immediately.
My grandfather would sometimes call and check up on me because he knew I wasn’t doing mentally well. He would ask what happened, stating that he was concerned but I didn’t trust it. I felt like coming from the type of family I came from I knew he would probably get really religious with me about it saying that I need to forgive or flat out say it didn’t happen. Regardless of what it was, I just knew I couldn’t handle it. I politely told him I just couldn’t discuss it. He accepted it and didn’t pry, which I was thankful for.
I kept my distance and to be honest, I still do. I don’t come around my family except my parents. And I have a good excuse not to because I don’t even live in the same state as my family. So that helps me out. There has been times though that I have made appearances, like two years ago for my grandma’s funeral. A couple of days before I came to the funeral I asked my parents to please let everyone know that I have a service dog to prevent the shock and that way I wouldn’t be asked questions. My parents let the family know and they all seemed very concerned for me. (This was my dad’s side, the normal side of the family) Of course they wanted to know what happened, but my parents said I didn’t want anyone to know. They respected it and moved on and welcomed me like nothing ever happened.
Now on my mom’s side, I do not see or speak to any of them. I have heard through a source that my aunt talks crap about me. Mind you I haven’t seen or spoken to this woman in like 7 years. I do not attend any family events that my mother’s side of family tends to. Nor do I, or will I attend anything my parents’ son is at.
As much as I want to rent a stage and speakers and shout to the whole family what my parents son has done to me…what’s the point? There’s just going to be more people like my aunt. It will cause more nonsense and drama. I don’t need that. I know what happened. It happened to me, not them. It’s my trauma, not theirs. Not everyone needs to know everything about you, especially your family. I swear it’s usually your own family who does the dirtiest and nastiest things to you.
So, I continue on with my life and my healing journey and none of my family is invited in on it. It’s what’s best for me mentally, physically, and emotionally. I have so much more peace now that I am not a part of that family. It was the best choice I could have made for my health.
As Always,
You Deserve Peace
Your Are Not Your Diagnosis
You Are Not Alone
Comments