Emotional wounds transcend mere injuries; they feel beyond any hope of healing

Three months into 2025 have passed. 75% of the year remains.

The focus of my first quarter has been my decision to move to a different hospital, starting treatment to address the numerous traumas I've never received proper care for.
For these past three months, I've undergone various psychological assessments to examine my current mental state.

The relentless task of excavating all the horrific memories I kept hidden and isolated was utterly exhausting.
Even understanding it was the first step in treatment, confronting those traumas was far from easy.
In fact, after the structured interview (CAPS-5), my physical condition deteriorated, and I was plagued by increasing nightmares.

Nevertheless, a doctor I know told me, "In treating mental illness, it's crucial to first understand and accept your condition," and I've been surviving in my own way, despite the relentless challenges.

Just last week, I received a definitive diagnosis.

The doctor informed me that, in addition to the Obsessive-Compulsive and Related Disorder (OCRD) I developed at 20, my condition meets the diagnostic criteria for complex Post-traumatic Stress Disorder (cPTSD), likely a difficult case to treat.
She also stated that a traumatic experience behind the onset of my OCRD couldn't be ruled out.

The ICD-11 was released overseas, dividing what was once lumped together as PTSD into 'simple' and 'complex' forms.
As of 2025, cPTSD isn't yet officially recognized as a diagnosis in Japan.
The current term is a mere convenience translation of "complex," and it will take time for the Japanese ICD-11 to be released and the official diagnosis to be finalized.

The 'complex' aspect of cPTSD, in addition to the diagnostic criteria for 'simple' PTSD, involves the negative belief that "I was broken by the traumatic experience and can only be pessimistic about the future," forcing individuals to live with significant social difficulties.

I didn't immediately grasp the diagnosis.
After returning home, I lay in bed, obsessively replaying the doctor's words.
The conclusion I reached was that I now have another incurable disease.

On what foundation am I standing now?
Or perhaps there's no solid ground beneath me, and I'm being hoisted by a crane.

I've experienced intermittent periods of depersonalization for a long time.
It seems the index trauma of my childhood was so intense that my brain's defense mechanism separated the suffering me, leaving him as my inner child in a parallel world.
In that world, time is non-existent; it stopped for him at the age of four, and he still clutches his brown rabbit.

This rabbit is also my imaginary companion, and I've recently realized that whenever I unconsciously think of my inner child, I can access that rabbit.
I'm convinced this is directly linked to my traumatic experience.

In any case, having endured a vivid trauma at the tender age of four, a part of my heart, or perhaps my brain, has been permanently destroyed.
What is my heart made of?
It may look like a fragile object made by solidifying a collection of rubble.

I must live the rest of my life with this body housing a defective mind.
I'll never forgive those who condemned me to this miserable existence.
Yet, I also can't continue to be tormented by these horrific events.
For now, I'm escaping into work and cooking, but no one can predict what the future holds.
I'm eager to struggle to find my own path.