Art by Terrence Taylor

BY SONIA DIAZ

For 25 years, I’ve been smoking marijuana to cope with a lifetime of trauma.

When I was young, my family life had some order. My sister’s father was a good stepfather and my mother had strict rules for us. We went to church and my sister and I sang in the choir. I remember singing on the fire escape with my sister. People passing by on their way home from work would stop to listen.

But my mom also hit and kicked me nearly every day, and when I was 14, things got a lot worse in my family. My mother was accused of running with another woman’s husband and we had to leave our church. My stepfather left us and moved in with another woman in our building. My mother quit her job as a corrections officer and became an alcoholic. Then she got a new boyfriend who wouldn’t stop touching me. When I told her what he was doing, she didn’t believe me. I felt lost and alone.

I’ve also been raped a number of times, the first time when I was 15 and the last time seven years ago. Sometimes I ask myself, “Was I put on this earth to be abused?” I wonder if something is wrong with me that I’ve been put through so much pain. I fear that I’ll never be able to keep myself safe.

Trying to Cope

As a child, I coped with terror and despair by losing myself inside. I would go into my mind and pretend I was a doll in a big dollhouse. When my mother’s boyfriend abused me, I felt like I came out my own body and looked at myself lying there.

My brain learned to block the stuff I didn’t want to remember. I lost days and hours disappearing from myself and I still do it to this day. It wasn’t so scary when I was younger. It was comforting to be able to shut myself in a world away from everyone where I didn’t have to feel anything. But now, as an adult, it seems scarier. I come back to reality and don’t even know what day it is.

Smoking My Life Away

At 18 years old I tried smoking weed for the first time. Soon if felt like I could not stop. Smoking seemed to help me stop thinking about painful memories.

Now, at 43, I’m feeling very depressed that I can’t seem to stop smoking weed. I feel like I’ve totally messed up my life. I never finished school—I didn't care to go because all I wanted to do was smoke. I never accomplished my dream of making a book of my poetry. When my kids were little, I barely went anywhere with them because all I wanted to do was smoke. I was such a couch potato. Now my children are grown and I regret that I kept them isolated like I was. Sometimes I feel that all I’ve done with my life is smoke it all away.

The worst part is that I started smoking in order to forget, but weed really doesn't make your memories and fears go away. Weed just pushes my feelings to the side for the moment. When the high wears off, I'm back to where I started: depressed, angry, lost and confused.

Searching for Help

I have tried to get help to deal with the trauma of being abused and raped. I’ve been diagnosed with Complex Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, or C-PTSD, which results from chronic victimization. Since I was young I’ve seen so many counselors and psychiatrists and I’ve tried taking medication.

But I am confused about treatment and afraid of it. Despite years of counseling, I’m still the same. I wonder, “Can someone show me ways to change my thoughts?” I honestly don’t know how you can take someone’s nightmares out of their heads.

Afraid to Open Up

In 2007, I ended up in rehab. Child Protective Services came to investigate my sister, who is addicted to crack and was living with me, and they asked me to take a drug test, too. I had to go to treatment to ensure that my children weren’t removed.

I stayed clean for the year I was in treatment and for about six months after it ended. I could concentrate better and see things more clearly and breathe better. But I found that everything bothered me when I was not smoking. Kids crying, people talking loudly, noise. I got angry at anything that anyone said or did.

Then there were those bad feelings and memories I tried to block by smoking. When I was sober, my feelings surfaced stronger and angrier.

Looking back, I see that I didn’t take advantage of the program and I wish I had. The program had anger management groups where I could’ve talked about what I was feeling, and a survivors group for women who had been raped. I went but I never spoke about my issues. I kept them in and that led me back to smoking again.

Trying to Stop

I’ve been trying new things to build up my confidence and make me feel like I've done something with myself. In 2008, I joined the Parent Leadership Training at the Child Welfare Organizing Project (CWOP), which trains and supports parents that have had the child welfare system in their lives. I also started writing for Rise. Joining CWOP and writing for Rise make me feel alive inside.

I’ve also been trying a new way to block out upsetting thoughts. When bad thoughts come into my head, I tell myself, “Try hard to think of good things that have happened in your life.” I like thinking about my kids when they were young and how good it felt to be a mom. Thinking of positive moments has helped me block depressing feelings more of the time.

In the last three months, I’ve been trying hard not to smoke. I stay outside and I keep around people who don’t smoke, and I come to CWOP and Rise to help out. But I still do smoke, usually at least three times a day—in the morning, at noon, and before I go to sleep. If I don’t smoke, I once again get angry at everything, and at night, I can’t sleep. When I get in bed, all types of bad thoughts begin running in and out of my head.

I Need More Help

I know I need to get help again. For years now I’ve been having panic attacks at least twice a week. This is a horrible feeling. My body shakes like I am having a seizure and my heart pounds.

Lately I’ve become so nervous that I catch panic attacks just thinking about danger. If one of my children goes out to the store, I am terrified that someone is going to start with them, or there’s going to be shootings. Often I feel like someone is going to end my life and that there will be no way to protect myself.

Other times, I just feel like I’m all alone. I know it’s not true. I have people in my life who care about me. But feelings of being alone and helpless pop up in my head and bring me into depression.

I want help. I’m dead inside. On the outside, I might not show it, but inside there’s only darkness.

I Want a Change

Not long ago, I started going to survivors’ groups on Mondays. The woman there said she was going to get me to a psychiatrist. I quickly stopped going.

I keep thinking of the last time I got help. I felt more confident. I was going places and doing things. Then I got raped again. I don’t know what I’m doing wrong. I want to change my life but I can’t go through that again. I can do this, I know I can, but I’m afraid, so afraid.

I want to find the guts to try again. I want to do something with my life besides smoking all the time. I want a new change.