The weekend was a struggle. A lot of feelings. A lot of emotions. A lot of fear and pain and desperation.
I made a point not to isolate. I met with some friends, people who care about me. I shared.
I still hurt. Especially at home, between the hours of 7pm and 10pm.
Last night, I needed to talk. I didn’t really have anyone to talk to. I felt so frustrated. So worthless. SO needy.
And, because of that, in the middle of the night, so anxious. Continue reading
I am hurting, aching, and lonely.
I will pretend to be fine. If you ask me how I am, I will smile and say, “Okay!”
The ache is back.
In my heart. In my stomach.
It left for awhile. I did not miss it.
I feel anger as it overtakes my body. As it darkens my thoughts and makes me the shell of the person I know I am.
I feel so alone.
I had an EMDR session scheduled yesterday. As I drove to the appointment, I could feel my anxiety mounting, getting higher and higher. I took deep breaths and tried to talk to myself logically–it will be okay.
In my head, I had practiced discussing my triggers with my therapist. But saying the words–connecting the dots–out loud, feels so much harder.
It embarrasses me to say the words aloud. It is as if all this pain that I am feeling seems petty when the words are out there. And yet, until the words are out there, there is no relief. Continue reading
Digging out of the hole is a hard thing to do once I’ve fallen back in. I can look up and see the brightness and, sometimes, I can even make it to the top.
But, frustratingly, I find myself back at the bottom quite easily. When I am in the hole, lots of thoughts become truths–thoughts such as:
I am so annoying.
I am too needy. Too clingy.
Nobody really wants to be around me anyway.
Trauma is so much more than I ever gave it credit for.
I have spent the majority of my life ignoring it. Giving it no credit whatsoever.
…I mean, why would I want to give it any power over me? No…I preferred to be resilient. To feel as if I had conquered the beast that was my traumatic childhood.
I am so afraid of being left.
By friends. By my spouse. By family. By my therapist.
I’ve often reflected on my own upbringing and marveled at how trusting and loyal I am. I questioned, How is it that, despite how deeply I’ve been hurt by others, I am so willing to give anyone a chance? Why do I not guard my heart more closely?
It has to do with relationships. Continue reading