Dear Danielle; a first draft

Dear Danielle,

I’m not ready, but I need to be. I need to take this head on. I need to move past this. You’re going to be my cousin-in-law for many, many years to come, and I want to be able to have at least a decent relationship with you. The thing is, I’m scared of you. Well, no… you intimidate me. But there are some things I need to let go of, as I’m sure you do too. So I’m here, with trembling hands, doing so.

I remember writing you a long piece many years ago that I had ADHD. And though that may be true, I’ve learned that this isn’t the entire story. It’s not just ADHD or whatever. It’s so much deeper (and darker) than that. I knew I needed help or I would lose everything I held dear.

I started really advocating for myself. I went to my doctor with a laundry list of things that I dealt with that I didn’t want to deal with anymore. At the time, she diagnosed me Bipolar and put me on new meds. This…. Look, messing with brain chemistry is a scary thing. I’ll just say that. This could have killed me, and I’m not being dramatic. It was not good. She admitted that I was beyond her, and she referred me to another family doctor (quick side note, PCPs should not be handling mental health). After a 10 minute chat, I was given a new diagnosis; Borderline Personality Disorder (and he briefly mentioned PTSD).

I embraced that diagnosis. Whatever helped me, you know? It took so much more work on my part but several months later, I finally found an affordable (only $200 a month) Dialectical Behavior Therapy online. And, you know, regardless of what you’re dealing with, I think everyone should take the course. I honestly think DBT should be taught in schools. Life changer, no joke. But something was still wrong. I didn’t quite check all the boxes for a BPD diagnosis. And as hard as I was working to better myself, there was something holding me back. By the way, I had started seeing a talk therapist by this point.

I decided it was time to explore the diagnosis that all my providers swept under the rug; PTSD. I found a therapist in Tacoma that specialized in EMDR (Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing), AND she could ACCURATELY assess and diagnose me. Now, this was a point of contention at the time between Stephen and I because therapy isn’t cheap, but I was adamant. I was going to do this for us. This wasn’t just for me. And at this point, he fully supports it.

After several 1-hour sessions, Tanya (my trauma therapist) had a diagnosis for me. That I absolutely did not exhibit any symptoms of a personality disorder and I actually suffered from Complex PTSD. They apparently look very similar on the surface. She was actually angry that doctors often throw that diagnosis around because they don’t know what they are looking at. It did, admittedly, cost me more money than it should have, but what can you do? You move forward.

Right. So what does this have to do with you? Well, I need to set things up before I get to the plot, you know? I have a little bit of story still. And I’m going to try to keep it brief. I don’t want to waste your time and I don’t want to delve so deep that I end up causing myself a crisis. I’m already having a bit of a struggle today.

So, I’m still learning. I don’t know everything there is to know about my trauma. But this is what I do know; I exhibited symptoms of PTSD by the time I was 17, this was compounded over the years by further trauma, and I had already sustained irreversible systemic damage from years of out-of-control cortisol by the time I was 23 (i.e. allergies, etc).

A lot of mine and Stephens relationship is built on my trauma, but there is one saving grace. We actually met and dated when I was 15. We have roots previous to my trauma, and I honestly think that’s…. you know, I wholeheartedly believe that the universe, or God, or whatever, orchestrated our meeting. Seriously, we should have never met, but we did, and it still amazes me. Anyway…

So, first things first, Stephen is incredibly important to me. What’s important to him is important to me (his relationship with his family, namely Nick and you). I know he really loves you both, and I’m pretty sure it pains him that I deal with near debilitating anxiety when attending family functions. This is why I don’t drink anymore. Well, one of the many reasons why. I want to be able to come to functions and not be overcome by the intense fear that people hate me. But I’m working on that. We are working on that, Stephen and I.

I’m going to address two things, in backwards order. Several years ago, you stated that I (I don’t want to misquote you here) had an unhealthy relationship with Stephen. You were right. Hell, I knew it, but I didn’t know anything else. You might have also stated that I was toxic, but I don’t know for sure, but hey, that wasn’t wrong either. I was toxic. I caused Stephen trauma, for which I am now dealing with. By the way, he hasn’t admitted this to me. I just know that, based on my own trauma and response, I’ve caused damage. And I don’t know how else to say this but I’m so glad it was him. Not that I’m glad I’ve hurt him, but he’s probably the only one who could handle it. Hurt people hurt people, you know?

So on to the trauma portion (yay, my favorite). My trauma runs deep. Tanya and I don’t know how deep yet, but I know it started with my parents. Have you noticed that I’m not real close to my parents? Yeah, they tend to trigger me a lot and I’ve practiced a lot of avoidance. At some point, I’ll have to talk to them about it.

Ugh, I don’t want to give you my life story here but there’s so much involved. Okay, condensed version, go: I was raised in a disgustingly religious home. My mom pulled me out of sex ed growing up. Not even kidding. My body is a temple, sex stuff is a mega sin, whatever. Between the ages of 15 and 24 I was repeatedly abused; sexually, physically, mentally, and emotionally. In short, I had a bad time. When I was 22, I had my virginity taken from me through rape. That broke all that I had left of me. That was my very identity.

Skipping far ahead, I thought that getting married would “fix” me, but instead, I spent years re-traumatizing myself thinking that as long as Stephen was happy, it would be okay. As long as he got what he wanted. But neither of us were happy. I was constantly reliving my trauma just by being intimate and he… probably thought he was doing something wrong. Not until this last year have I started to communicate when I’m dealing with flashbacks and triggers.

Which brings me to my final and most important point. Stephen means the world to me. When we got together, no one else mattered to me. I mean, romantically speaking. I couldn’t imagine spending my life with anyone else. Before all of my therapy, I wasn’t equipped to deal with things properly. And if something was particularly triggering, I would regress, especially if alcohol was involved.

I don’t remember a whole lot. Much of that is a symptom of PTSD. It just is what it is, but I remember one thing very clearly. I know this is years old, but I remember you waking up to me sitting in your boyfriends lap. First of all, I want to apologize for that. I know for a fact that, regardless of circumstances, that would make me physically ill to see a woman in my husband’s lap. I want to say that I really appreciate how gracefully you responded to that situation. Go to bed. “We will talk about it tomorrow.”

I know you and Nick already talked about it, but I want to share my side of it. First off, Nick and I have never, ever been even remotely involved in any way. You probably already knew that but I just wanted to get that out there just in case. That particular night, I was really worried about Stephen. I don’t remember why now, but I do know that I was inconsolable. I confided in Nick because I know they aren’t just cousins; they are best friends. Nick knew (knows?) Stephen far better than I. At the time, I was so upset over whatever it was that Nick realized the best way to calm me down was to literally treat me like a child. I’m not saying I’m proud of this, but it is what it is. I needed to know that I was safe and Stephen was safe. I’m still learning. I don’t know why that’s an effective way to soothe me when I’m upset. Maybe for the same reason people use weighted blankets.

I honestly don’t know if this is something that still bothers you but it certainly bothers me. I never want to make you feel bad in any way. I don’t want to ever hurt you. And I’m sorry that I did. I never meant to. We may never be close, but I do want to be a friend. And maybe this is all stuff you are over and I’m overthinking it as usual. But I think I’d rather overthink it and just be really transparent about things than to assume that things are okay when they potentially aren’t.

Just know that I’m doing my best to do right. I’m still going to struggle. I’m still going to get triggered and experience flashbacks. Often. But I’m learning better ways to handle them. Sometimes that means removing myself unexpectedly and practicing grounding techniques and self-care. This doesn’t happen a lot but it might if I start putting myself out there more, but it’s something I always communicate to Stephen. I rely on him a lot. Not nearly as heavily as I did before, but he’s still a huge part of my healing process.

Oh, remember that one time we “hung out”, just the two of us and I was reading a book called Lolita? Yeah, I still haven’t finished it and I had to get rid of it. I hate leaving books unfinished but this one was… too relatable? Definitely not a book for survivors of childhood sexual abuse. Just…. Ugh.

On a final note, please (for the love of God) don’t feel sorry for me. I don’t know what it is but I hate it when people are overly sorry about what happened to me. I’m okay. It has affected me deeply, but I’m not broken. This is also not something I’m ashamed of. I don’t care if you share this with Nick, or Morgan, or Frida. Or Link. He probably won’t care, but you could tell him. But I don’t want it to be something I’m afraid to talk about. Yeah, it’s uncomfortable for everyone involved. I guarantee it’s much more uncomfortable for me, but I’m getting used to it.

I care about you. And I hope this helps. At least I hope it alleviates some of the anxiety I feel around you and Nick. I hope that didn’t come off poorly. I don’t want to imply that you are at fault, because you're not.