Chapter 1: The Weight of Survival

I find myself exhausted from being trapped in survival mode, caught in my own repetitive cycle of despair.

It’s just past 7:30 AM, and as usual, I’m by myself. Overnight, a fresh layer of snow has blanketed the ground, and the air feels so dry that my eyes struggle to focus. This seems fitting, as I intend to reflect on my vision—or rather, my lack thereof—especially in terms of mental clarity.

This past week has been particularly challenging for my insomnia. The issue isn’t falling asleep; it’s waking up after a few hours and being unable to drift back off. To cope, I often turn to food, which brings fleeting moments of pleasure but ultimately harms my health, shortens my lifespan, and disrupts my sleep whenever I manage to doze off again.

Though I haven't used cannabis in weeks, I decided to brew my ‘magic’ tea last night. Historically, it has been my remedy for sleeplessness, but this time it fell short. In fact, I ended up overeating while under its influence—one of the main reasons I had quit using it in the first place, along with the overwhelming apathy that followed.

This week was especially tough in relation to my complex PTSD and the group therapy session I attended midweek. It culminated yesterday when Charles, the leader of my weekly business accountability call, encouraged us all to create a one-page list of our dreams and aspirations for this year and beyond.

Charles stands out to me as a rare individual; he is one of the few men I deeply respect. His achievements motivate me to strive for a better version of myself. His business is significantly larger than mine, yet he always makes time for our group. While he may not know the full extent of my struggles, he is aware of my mental health challenges and often seems to provide me with extra understanding, which I have requested not to receive as I don’t want preferential treatment.

Yesterday, Charles shared his accomplishments from the previous year, alongside his goals for this year—both personal and business-related. I won’t delve into all of them here, but a few notable points struck me deeply and left me sitting here this morning, holding back tears and grappling with a heavy mood.

He recounted the various places he and his wife have explored this year, despite it still being January. He mentioned their travels from last year, the successful flipping of a house, the acquisition of another business, moving his daughter into a rental, and the joyful anticipation of a grandchild. He expressed a desire to enjoy coffee with his wife each morning at least 80% of the time—presumably allowing for travel days in the remaining 20%.

Everything he shared sounded like a dream come true, including a remarkable trip through Ethiopia. He then looked at us and expressed his wish for similar experiences for all of us. I believe he genuinely wants to help us achieve those aspirations, which is why it’s easy to hold him in high regard.

Over the years, I’ve become adept at crafting mental plans without ever committing them to paper. Writing them down feels definitive, and while I know I can revise them, it often seems like a final decision. When they exist only in my mind, it’s easy to forget and move on, deluding myself. However, once committed to writing, I confront the possibility of either accomplishing them or failing, which is a daunting thought. My fear of failure often prevents me from even starting, leading to what I consider the worst type of failure: not attempting at all.

So, why does Charles's list of goals provoke such strong emotions in me? I suspect it’s because I have been entrenched in survival mode for so long that I’ve lost sight of who I am. I used to be different. Now, these accomplishments seem so distant; I struggle just to make it through each day, often accomplishing the bare minimum to maintain my clients. In the evenings, I find myself lost in TV reruns or YouTube videos simply because I lack the energy to engage with something new. Then, I retreat to bed, bracing myself for another monotonous day.

Recently, I’ve been experiencing unexpected anger towards my abuser, which feels new and foreign. Just last night, I caught myself mentally drafting a letter to her, expressing my feelings. I’m uncertain whether I will write it down or send it; I don’t even know if she’s still alive, and part of me believes she doesn’t deserve to be.

As I sit here, fighting tears that symbolize my brokenness—tears born from the realization that I can’t even maintain a relationship with a woman meaningful enough to share coffee with each morning—I find myself questioning the purpose of going on. To clarify, I am not suicidal; I never have been. Yet, I can’t help but wonder why I haven’t considered it. Why do I continue to endure this daily grind, waking up each day to repeat the cycle? I have no goals to anticipate.

Deep within me, in a place untouched by my abuser, a voice insists that life has more to offer. I witness examples every day, and Charles serves as a beacon of hope, for which I am genuinely grateful.

For years, I battled with feelings of inadequacy regarding my intelligence, convinced I was lacking. It wasn’t until my 40s that I could admit I wasn’t actually stupid. Gradually, I am coming to terms with my intelligence, which is a monumental step for me. Yet, if I am capable of this realization, why can’t I push past this barrier and pursue my dreams and aspirations?

Consider this: I own my business, which grants me a degree of control over my destiny. I have the capacity to craft my own dreams and possess the necessary resources to fulfill them, yet a fearful part of me holds back from setting any goals, fearing I will disappoint myself.

So, what is the purpose of carrying on? How much longer will I remain trapped in my own version of Groundhog Day, living in a personal prison?

I don’t have answers to these questions, and perhaps I never will. However, I refuse to allow my abuser to rob me of my life prematurely. She has taken enough from me, and succumbing to this abuse would mean she wins in my eyes. I hope to maintain this rational perspective as I delve deeper into the recovery process, for this week has shown me that much is surfacing from within, and I am frightened—no, I am terrified—that I may not be strong enough to confront it. But I must be, because here I am again, alone in my survival mode Groundhog Day.

Chapter 2: Seeking Hope and Inspiration

In the first video, titled "Why You're Stuck In Survival Mode," the creator explores the common feelings of being trapped in a repetitive cycle of merely existing rather than thriving. The insights shared may resonate with anyone who has struggled to find purpose amidst adversity.

The second video, "021 - 5 SURPRISING signs you're living in SURVIVAL MODE and how to get out!" discusses key indicators that you may be stuck in survival mode and offers practical tips on how to break free from this state and reclaim your life.