“Anxiety Disorder and Mood Disorder Based in Trauma.”

That is my official diagnosis from a psychiatrist. I received it yesterday afternoon.

I took a few hours to sit with it – with everything – and absorb what’s happened since. Three weeks ago, right around the time I’m writing this, I snapped. I had a complete breakdown after being attacked online from all sides. It began as criticism, but it became so much more. It quickly morphed into a character assassination, a public shaming, partially made up of half-truths and outright lies. By the end of it, I was a shell of the person I had been before. I saw nothing to live for. The world hated me, so why keep going?

That was three weeks ago, and I’ve spent all my time since that visit to the emergency room getting better. What was almost a tragic ending has become my new beginning.

Trauma is a terrible thing to live with. It can rob us of basic coping skills, sending us spiraling back to the age when the original trauma(s) occurred. In my case, I was a child. And so, my coping mechanisms during events that reignite that trauma are childlike. Adrenaline fuels my body. I freeze. I can’t speak. I run far and fast. I react with emotionally stunted, instinctive survival skills. A bestselling author who can’t find her words. An otherwise resilient person who can’t fight back. A woman with a high emotional intelligence score who can’t handle emotions. That’s a trauma reaction.

After the initial episode, I’m raw for days. Anxiety keeps me awake. Depression seeps in. Things get dark. And that’s where I was after this all happened. That’s where I still end up every two or three days now, but to a lesser extent. As someone reminded me recently when I shared I had had a “setback” that day, healing isn’t linear. Like grief, it dances to a rhythm we can’t always anticipate. The goal is to keep moving forward, enjoying increasingly more good days and fewer bad ones.

I’m wounded. Deeply. Not only from what recently transpired but from a lifetime dotted with events just like it, when I’ve been unable to cope in a way that serves me.  I’m sad, too.

And, as I told the psychiatrist yesterday, I’m angry. I’m angry at the whole situation. I’m angry I almost died. “That’s a healthy feeling to have right now,” she told me. “Feel it.” I’m not used to feeling angry. It’s new for me. It’s never been a comfortable emotion. Maybe it’s time I let it be.

So, after all this, how do I get back to the place I was? Well, I don’t. I’m not going back. I’m moving forward into a new place.

When I spoke to my therapist on Monday (yes, I have both a psychiatrist and a therapist now, because this girl broke, folks) I told her that my number one priority is to never, ever get back to the place I was. “You’d better believe I’m giving 110%,” I said, and then the tears came – as they often do these days. “I almost fucking died. I still can’t believe that happened. I’m not ever going back there again. Expect me to show up and do the work for as long as I need to. I am forever changed by this.”

And I am. I can feel it. No matter how raw I might be, I’m already stronger. I’m much better at taking a step back from negative feedback before it overloads me and examining its origin, context and purpose before I take it in. That’s huge for me.

I’m setting more boundaries. It keeps me healthier to be able to say “no” or “not right now” or “not ever, thanks.”

I’ve taken time to explore what my core values are, and I’m building my life around them and only them. All important relationships will have those values at their heart. All my work will be centered around them.

Where do I go from here? Still not sure. Twitter? Not right now. Maybe later. Maybe never. It’s not a place that has my core values at its heart, and I’m not sure how to make my space there one that does. It’s a place designed for conflict and encourages pile-ons.

Truthfully, I’ve created and contributed to many of them. Now that I’ve experienced the full extent of what can happen to someone on the receiving end, I’m deeply remorseful of my role in any of those, and I won’t contribute to that ever again. My work will be about connection rather than conflict, whenever possible. That’s a lesson I’m taking from all of this.

Right now, I’m enjoying some hidey-hole time. I’ve stained the fence, planted a new garden, I tightened my personal Facebook page circle a bit, had socially-distanced pizza with friends and my beautiful wife, and am just trying to live. I mean, I’m alive, right? That’s a good thing. Might as well enjoy it. I remain grateful for that gift every day – even the harder ones.

To everyone who has reached out – and my goodness, there are many of you – thank you. From the bottom of my heart, thank you. I read all your emails, messages, texts, and comments. I wish I had the spoons to reply to them all. To friends who have sent care packages and stopped by with goodies, you seem to always hit the days I need it most.

Community, you’re all helping me heal and reminding me what a large circle of support my family and I have. You are a part of this journey in such an important way.

To the world at large, get ready for a new version me. She’s still in the early construction stages, but she’s going to be mighty, and have one hell of a story to tell.

Three weeks ago, I almost died. Today, I am truly living.