Looking Back At Me

I'm told I'm quite attractive. People are generally pretty surprised I don't see myself that way. Some days, it's not so bad, and I realize I'm a pretty decent looking lady. Mostly, though, this is what I see looking back at me....
I see 23 years of not being able to tell where I end and the past begins.
I see a woman who has done plenty of things she's not proud of, and can't really explain why.
I see someone who looks an awful lot like the stereotypical 'crackhead-white-girl' from too many Law & Order episodes- someone who might have been pretty and smart in another life.
I see someone who's faced the same situations over and over- and rarely made a different choice.
I see someone who puts herself in the same bad place repeatedly, and still can't figure out how to get it right.
I see someone who is tired of fighting the same battles, so tired she doesn't want to bother with them at all anymore.
I see that skinny white girl from Law & Order who knew what her boyfriend was capable of, but went back to him anyway.
I see the pained victim, the weak little girl, the scared child... and I wonder where the rest of me went.
If the signs and symptoms of PTSD went away tomorrow, I don't know what would be left of me. I've been struggling with this my entire life, in some form or another. I don't know where it ends and I begin. I'm doing all I can to make it better, and it's healing, but I'm tired of wondering what's going to pop up next. I'm tired of seeing myself in the same place over and over, too scared to walk alone, too weak to go back to God on my own, too scared to face the world around me. I'm not depressed- I've been there before. I'm frustrated. I'm tired of standing still. I'm tired of waiting for the next issue to pop up. I'm tired of nightmares, and tired of waking up to find that, even though I don't remember the nightmares this time, I busted my own lip, or reopened a scar, or somehow cut my hand in my sleep. I'm tired of wondering what's going to set me off next.
Maybe I made the wrong choice, maybe I made the choice out of fear more than love.
Maybe it doesn't make a difference if I'm single or not, because no one else can fight this battle for me.
I know I'll make it through this, I'm just not sure when or how.