October 6, 2020. I don't remember the weather on that day. I don't remember what I was wearing or many other things that happened that day. What I remember is having counseling on a zoom meeting. I remember that God had never spoken to me so clearly in my entire life, and I had a clear vision of the new path that He would lead me on after being broken for so long. This is what I had been waiting for. This was the good that would come from the evil, the rainbow after the storm, and the light from the darkness.
In the spring of 2018, I was diagnosed with severe Complex PTSD. When put in a position between seeking help and losing everything precious to me, divine intervention put me in the office of a one of the kindest and most compassionate doctors I have ever met. The proverbial dam broke, and I spoke of all the things in my lifelong memory box for three hours. She took a deep breath and told me she needed to formally diagnose me for insurance purposes, however she would never discuss the diagnosis again nor did she have any intention of making it my label. It was at this appointment that I also realized the stigma behind mental health, and medications to aid in survival. That is where I was at. Survival. I didn't know how or when, but I heard the words, "It is going to be ok" on repeat in my head.
For the next ten months I worked with a talented therapist on trauma recovery. It was the hardest season of my life. Peeling back the layers of my life one by one left me feeling exposed and naked. It forced me to relive events that were buried deep in my soul. I started to be able to put the pieces together as to how things that occurred then had formed me into what I had become. I started to research PTSD, and at times felt relief to know that while what I had experienced was far from normal, the way that my brain adapted to protect itself was completely normal. Over time, I could feel the healing that was taking place in my heart. The panic attacks were becoming less, and for the first time in my life I was sleeping (even though it was with aids).
Fast forward to October 6, 2020. It was a counseling day and I was explaining the feeling of being stuck. I felt like there was a wall that was preventing me from making steps forward. I sobbed. I prayed. I grounded myself. I cried more. I prayed the same thing that I had prayed hundreds of times in the months prior. "Father God, please let something good come out of this. Use my story." This session crumbled me to my knees both physically and spiritually. At that moment I felt the love of God wrap around me in the most surreal experience. I remember allowing myself to admit that I deserved to heal, completely. I still have a hard time understanding how I believed the lie for so long that it was OK to suffer for the sake of keeping peace and avoiding conflict. That day God revealed his plan for me. It was the first day on my new journey.
That evening I told my husband that we needed to move. I also told him that we needed a property that could accommodate and equine therapy program because that is how God was going to use my story for good. Being the saint and the rock that he is, he said ok.