I wrote Broken for me, but published it for you for a number of reasons. First, psychological speaking, this is all very cool. Second, my children have suffered from my conditions and my only goal is to help them and undo the damage I have caused. This ties into my third reason: I hope others can learn from my experiences and seek the help they need for the sake of their children. I wish for others like me to know there is hope—so they tell me—and you are not alone.
I don’t quite believe that myself…that I am not alone. But, for the first time in my life, I want to.
My name is Angela B.Chrysler and I have PTSD, BPD, and Bipolar. I have no intent on keeping these disorders. Truth is, as early as eight years old, I learned to become so withdrawn and emotionally detached, that no one—not my parents, not my friends, not even my husband and doctor who have known me since I was twelve—had any idea that there was anything wrong with me. They thought I was…different…unique…unusual, but had no idea about the secrets I hid from everyone.
Even now, I’m calm, quiet, and smiling. This is the truth of what I am. On the outside, I’m logical, but passionately eager to play make-believe. Some liken me to a child and admire my ability to have preserved my playful innocence. That is part of my condition…or maybe its me. I don’t know anymore. So much of what I am has been influenced by my disorders that I don’t know what I am anymore. On the outside, I smile often and laugh loud. In my head, I see a naked girl. She is curled up on the cold steel floor and she is screaming. The Death Men are there and I’m fighting a war only I can see. I’m alone and I can’t tell the difference between the worlds in my head and this world that you see. To my right, Bergen stands guarding me. I barely know he’s fictitious any more.
My smile and eagerness to laugh hid the truth too well, and my mental health comes as a cold shock to everyone who learns of it. Most of my family still doesn’t understand what is wrong with me. They see me as being withdrawn and suddenly shy without understanding why. Broken shows the process, breaks it down, and explains the depth of the nightmares I live beneath my smile. Broken shows exactly what life with trauma looks like and how I came to discover my awareness as it happened.
This is the road I am about to begin and I record it all in “Broken.” I continue my story in “Unbreaking Me.”
“Broken“ is my story. It is how I came to be what I am. They say “write what you know,” so I have decided to write about this. Above all, I am a writer and part of my therapy is to write.
