Witnessing my mother suffer an asthma attack and pass away left me (a teenager at that time) grieving and traumatized. I wish I have had the chance to tell my mum how much I loved her. And I wish that at that time someone would have made me feel safe enough to express my feelings. Instead, I sensed that it was better and easier to pretend everything was fine and normal.
She was a firecracker.
A compassionate, intelligent, and driven woman, my mom was nothing short of unstoppable. Her whole life was a series of achievements, hard work, caring for others, and leaving a beautiful, unmistakable glow wherever she went.
Imagine riding a new red bicycle. You are gracefully balanced and cruising down the neighborhood. Your bike has all the amenities for a fun ride- working petals, a nice fancy horn, and colorful pom-poms blowing in the wind. Now imagine riding that same bicycle with one petal broken…
Trying to describe PTSD isn’t easy and getting someone to truly understand what it’s like to live with it seems merely impossible. Some people are so brainwashed by a stigma that holds no truth. Most people have just refused to acknowledge the reality that such a disorder can even exist.