This is the story of what haunts me. I’m a thirty-one year old living with what some call a mental disorder, or three. Anxiety, depression, post-traumatic stress disorder. This is the list. This is what I use to explain my behaviors when someone notices instead of telling them the details of my story of abuse. No one wants to hear the Why.
The details of my story haunt me because I keep them close, holding them tightly like a warm blanket on a cold Saturday morning. I fight my conscience daily about whether I should tell someone the story or whether it is safer to hide thinking maybe no one will notice it. Everyone notices. You can see it in my eyes. Most of the time I choose to hide, but silence, Elie Wiesel tells us, is not an option. If you’ve suffered, you are to bear witness. “We must speak,” He says, “[But] a person…who has to be a witness for himself, literally feels despair.” I feel despair.
This is the story of what haunts me. I can’t escape the memories even as I stand in the shower. In fact, the ghosts invade my mind when I’m standing still or driving the cold, lonely Interstate 5 home to see my parents. In these isolated moments I’m left alone with my mind, the strongest of my organs; yet my mind is the one only organ that has let me down. I debate even my own memories and search for inconsistencies. Nothing can be trusted, no one can be trusted. This is a symptom of the disorder.
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{This is the beginning of a memoir about my struggle with depression and the turning point in my life when I finally sought help. It will also document the seven years I spent in a cult.}
Lisa Kerr
February 28, 2012
Lisa, I know it is difficult to admit to and share with others, these struggles and leave yourself vulnerable. I really appreciate you sharing this preview. I look forward to hearing (reading) the rest of your story when it is time. I admire your bravery among other things. <3
I hope this helps you lay some of those ghosts to rest, too.
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