Imploding

I'm struggling. Badly. It was a bad weekend. I had a horrible body memory Saturday night, a new one. Not as invasive as the one that usually comes but it was frightening enough. I woke up in terror convinced it was happening in the moment. This prevented me from being able to shower Sunday morning which meant I couldn't go to church. I wasn't happy about it but thought I was OK with it. Nope, saw pictures on Facebook later and cried because I was unable to go. All because I couldn't take a shower.

I can't take baths and haven't been able to in years. I've tried various ways to do it and gave up when just sitting in a dry tub in clothes made me panicky. Showers were never a problem until yesterday. If I'd showered more recently I would have sprayed perfume and gone to church in a hat. But I'd last showered Thursday morning and hadn't changed clothes since Thursday afternoon. That wasn't going to cut it.

Everything is confusing me. Life is totally overwhelming. I'm realizing even more how inequitable mental health treatment is to say, care for someone with cancer. Someone with cancer can have something incurable and elect for chemotherapy. It costs tons of money and won't save the person's life. It might buy them time, it might not. But they have that option to choose. Because my illnesses are trauma related I don't get that option. My coverage is limited and is pretty much gone for the rest of my life (inpatient wise). In my early thirties that is a huge concern.

I feel like my life is totally worthless to the insurance people and the government. If I could get proper treatment I might be able to do what I want most and get off disability in the future and work. Nope, sorry because I'm not wealthy and am a trauma survivor I get to just suck it up and try to get by with what is available, which is pretty much nothing.

Two forty-five minute visits a week with my therapist aren't cutting it at this point. I'm rapidly imploding and not sure what is going to be the end result. i don't even know if I care anymore.

This is horrible to say. I'm not suicidal but wish I was so I could just do it and die and get the hell out of this life.

You Are Loved (Don't Give Up)

Things are still very difficult. It's been a horribly hard week. I've been too dissociated to drive or really do anything. I made it to therapy on Tuesday because my case manager took me. I couldn't get there on Thursday. I spent Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday at church. I was trying to do things to help but also trying to be around people. Safe people who know the whole story and wouldn't overreact. I had some helpful conversations with the two people there. The one with my minister yesterday was so nice. She doesn't get it, she knows she doesn't get it, but she relates to it as much as she can in a way that no one ever has while stating she knows its not the same.

I'm too tired to think much or write much tonight. But I stumbled across this song tonight. I love Josh Groban's music but had never heard this song. It's giving me so much comfort and it currently on repeat on my iPod. I'll fall asleep listening to it tonight I'm sure.



I'm so grateful to those who are loving me. Who aren't giving up on me or allowing me to give up on myself. I've been in frequent email contact with my t the past week. I would normally never send her a YouTube link but sent the above link to her thanking her for being the first to ever really truly hear me. And not only did she hear me she also hasn't given up or allowed me to give up.

Things are still rough. I'm still fairly dissociated and am not sure what tomorrow will bring. But I can't give up.

Adjusting

I'm here. Kinda, sorta, maybe. I'm pretty dissociated still. I've been incredibly dissociated since Wednesday night. You know when I was crying and hugged and held. It meant an incredible amount to me. It also apparently sent me into shock and then flight mode. And I'm so good at flight mode that I took off. I haven't felt grounded or real since then.

Therapy on Thursday was a bit of a mess. I dissociated completely the whole session. She said she thinks it was Wendy, the fourteen year old. She got to where she thought I was grounded enough to leave. I got my stuff and she started walking me out and I didn't make it. I couldn't feel the ground and so couldn't walk. She looked at me and said I didn't look good and I said I wasn't. It took 30 minutes of her sitting with me in a group room before I could ground enough to walk and safely drive home. Having someone come to get me would have been ideal but there wasn't anyone and so I had to get home. I got home and haven't left since.

I still don't feel real. I still don't feel attached to things. I still feel like I'm watching a movie that is actually my life. I can't connect to any of it.

I spent yesterday emailing my therapist a lot. She's pretty worried. She emailed my minister. I finally got brave enough to text my minister tonight and asked her to call me when she could. It was so hard for me to text her and ask for that. She called me and I just got off the phone with her.

I feel better. I'm still not grounded at all but I feel a bit lighter. She gets it as much as she can. She even made me laugh. She thinks my reactions are normal.

She said, "You are just getting used to being loved. That's all."

I'm just being loved, accepted, wanted, and valued for being who I am. Just for being me. And given my upbringing its new to me and so its an adjustment. And she thinks its normal.

She's only been at our church for a year. Exactly a year today. She posted that on her blog and I was dumbfounded by the fact that its only been a year. It feels like so much longer. She has made such a profound difference in my life, as have other people at my church.

I'm not real again yet. But I will be. I think. I hope. And until then there are people to help me.