Control. You want to be able to have control. Control over where you are, who you are with, what you eat, when you sleep, how you live. You want freedom. But when its stolen from you and you can't even talk about it because no one will believe you or worse, no one even cares, it burns a hole so deep into your soul you fear at any moment you'll crack. You wear the scars. Literal scars. You touch them instinctively when you are worried or something reminds you out of the blue. You have flashbacks, but you breathe through them. Sometimes you can convince yourself it never happened, but when you do that the aftershocks tend to be ten times worse. They seem to build up over time and you'll just explode so you know better now.There's nothing left to do. I run. I do yoga. I meditate. Sometimes I even do TaiChi. I try to stray from heavier contact sports as it promotes a sort of negative energy for me. I don't think its healthy to punch a heavy bag or work on my split kicks anymore. (Says the girl researching DIY wooden dummy) But there's something said about a handstand. Something about balancing in that position centers me. I have tried to pull back on my strict diet. Sure the headaches can come back, but..... I haven't had seizures from the head injuries in years. I'll never.... look at blood.... my blood, the same way again. But I am not numb to violence, like the chilling sound of a choked windpipe or the unsettling laugh of a dead man. I see it. I acknowledge it. I move on. I just wish I could make sense of my monkey mind. Make sense as to why these things still surface and my disturbing knee jerk reaction to certain things. I desperately want that connection again. That feeling of completeness I once had. I'm not talking about before the accident. Its something I thought I had finally found and that I finally healed and then I just lost it again. About a month ago I dreamt ___ died all over again and in the dream I tried to kill myself in response of which..... is not me. Its never been me. I loved ____, but ___'s the reason I got in this mess in the first place. Became who I am/was.It's a sick joke to believe we are in control of anything in our lives. I don't mind the pain. I just... I don't know anymore. I am reaching out for something that may have never existed, a version of myself I never actually attained. I just don't know. When you've been victimized you want help, you want to say that yes you are a torture survivor. You want to overccome your survivor's guilt. I see here similar stories to mine. Lost love. Lost friends. Trauma that was out of control so you fear being out of control. We all face the same demons and yet..... we don't, At least you guys can talk freely about it here. Thats progress. I rather have a bone broken. I rather have a tooth pulled. I rather face it all right over again than share it, listen as I barely can breathe, as the pain surges through my body and through the blood, the sweat, tears of maniacal laughter and the foam coming out of my mouth as I force out the only words I'll ever say, "Screw You."