The things that anxiety makes me do cause so much shame.
Tonight, it is boiling up inside of me. I can taste it…and it makes me feel sick.
In moments of panic, I am weak. I reach out. I say what is on my mind because I no longer–in that moment–have the strength to pretend to be okay. I am too focused on trying to remember to breathe. On trying to convince myself that I am not going to die from panic.
I feel, in that moment, like I just need help.
Today was another hard day.
I didn’t sleep well last night. I was plagued by weird and vivid dreams, and woke frequently. My 5am alarm sounded way too soon and was not a welcome noise.
I dragged myself out of bed. Got ready for work. Pulled out of my driveway at 6:40 and headed for school.
I could feel the drag. I could feel the irritability. I could feel the emotions and darkness…right there, on the edge, where they have been lingering so recently.
Therapy is such a process.
There have been times when I have wondered: Is it time to be done?
The reality? I still have a long way to go.
I had been doing a lot better. I had been having much longer spaces between therapy sessions…from weekly, to twice a month, to once every three weeks, to, almost, once a month.
But then, another setback.
Healing is a slow process.
…Second by second, minute by minute, day by day.
….Breathing in, breathing out.
…Piece, by piece.
Slowly, slowly, I move towards the other side. Continue reading
It hits me all at once.
All consuming. Quickening my heart….stealing my very air.
The world seems dark–a scary place where I am forced to be all of the things that I hate–a silent, aching girl, who cannot say the words to explain where the pain is coming from. Continue reading
I have uttered those words at various times throughout my life.
Please! Don’t leave me…
Each and every time this has happened, I have been filled with absolute panic–absolute desperation.
I can’t help but wonder…where does this fear of abandonment come from? Continue reading
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
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