Keeping in context. Still fighting.

 Nothing I have experienced is quite as exquisitely painful as knowing that someone you loved and trusted would rather you die than admit they made a mistake... 

and then further deepened knowing that they may have even been pushing for it.

I am not sure if it was the PTSD trigger that brought back, or maybe rather re-intensified the still fading,  feelings and memories or if it is the distance I am feeling between me and my husband that has caused feelings to resurface, but for some reason these last couple of days, I keep finding myself tucked away in memories and feelings that I have been struggling like hell to forget and move past; to get and/or keep within appropriate and accurate context and framing. 

Today, while on a drive with my husband, I started reading aloud the next chapter in my PSY 1010 book. It is on stress. It is probably worth noting that the previous  chapter covered our human need for belonging. Now I am reading about how stress, stress from trauma, and prolonged stress effect your health and your autonomic nervous system (ANS). 

It put things back into appropriate context. 

Dr. He's research on how concussion effects the ANS is a systematic review. That's kind of a big undertaking and if one chooses to take on all the research and scholarly articles well enough to produce a publishable systematic review, then one knows the topic and material very well....

...And there is nothing quite as exquisitely painful as knowing and remembering that someone you loved and trusted so completely knew what he was doing and knew how it would affect a person. When I was trying to protect he was pushing for increased stress, a compromised immune system, depression, and further instability that would increase likelihood of a shortened life.

It is very painful. 

and I have to admit, I feel especially hurt again, not just by that man but also by the slew of other people that chose to follow suit and by the silence of my husband after I explain why-the-tears that refused to stay contained.

And by the silence of friends and family who no longer speak to me, because they did not want to be bothered and/or they did not want to believe our medical providers could do such things when I needed help and support to pull through the trauma ... and when I was distressed. 

I am sad.

But at least I can feel some peace knowing this has likely shortened those aging fading years that I am not all that excited for.