So excited for Alexis!
Here is the back cover description:
If I Could Tell You How It Feels is a series of essays and poems about living authentically with post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD). Alexis Rose takes us on a journey into the reality of living with triggers, flashbacks, and the challenges of working through trauma.
She writes with intimate vulnerability about the tough subjects of family, friendships, loss, grief, parenting, and therapy. With a sense of universal hope and honesty, the author collaborated with artist Janet Rosauer to add a dramatic and soulful dimension to many of the chapters.
Whether you are a survivor, someone living with a mental or chronic illness, a professional working within the mental health industry, or you are simply interested in learning more about the intricacies of living and thriving with PTSD, this book will provide new insights and an appreciation of this invisible illness that affects millions of people around the world.
“If I could tell you how it feels was the internal mantra that I used in my early days of therapy. Even though I yearned to share with friends and family how it felt to live with a past full of abuse and neglect, I couldn’t say the words.
The painful memories and shame of my trauma were palpable. That shame kept me from exclaiming, “I’m a survivor!”
I felt the safest hiding behind the mask of what I thought was “normal.” One day, in answer to my friend’s question of how it felt to live with PTSD, I wrote a poem and risked the vulnerability of sharing it with family and close friends.
Soon writing became my way of expressing how it feels to try and cope with, relate to, and safely express my feelings. What I couldn’t verbalize, I found I could write.
Writing is my light from the darkness and has taken the form of books, blog posts, articles and simple prose. To be seen, to be heard, and to connect can be a catalyst for growth and change.
Sometimes we just want to say, “I may look okay on the outside but, If I could really tell you how it feels…”
I Walk with a Limp 