I don’t feel well.
I wish it were PTSD, I can handle PTSD.. I know how to cope, I know what to do.
This though, what am I to do with this? Each day I wake hoping it will hurt just a tiny bit less. It doesn’t though, it gets worse, it gets harder.
My soul is aching, my heart is broken. I am devastated. And I am fighting with everything I have to not feel, to not cry, to not allow this to happen. I don’t care if it good for me, I don’t care it I need this, I don’t care- I suffered enough.
I am feeling things I have never felt before. It is as if my own feeling dial has been stuck on the lowest setting, even at times on mute. And the last two years I have been working towards getting ready to start turning up that dial.
Except now I have reached that point and turned up the dial at least some, I find myself wishing I could turn it right back down.
I feel more than I have ever felt before.
There are positives, I feel more love than I thought possible. I adore my family, my love for my husband has grown immensely. I feel joy even when I think of my children, a joy I didn’t know existed..
But Oh, I hurt. I don’t even know what all these feelings are. I don’t recognise them, they are not familiar to me. Some of these are things other people my age have probably been feeling for years. Most though I am sure are feelings no one should ever have to feel.
I am lost and out of my depth.
The scariest thing is, that dial has only turned up a notch, my feelings are still somewhat muted. I am still holding back. If it can get worse, how will I cope?
I am not strong enough, I am simply not strong enough. I feel confident of that. I didn’t feel for a reason- so I could survive. How do I survive if I let myself feel now?
I don’t want this, I don’t want to feel the reality as well as know it. Knowing was enough. I do not want to remember. Oh how I wish I could un-remember.
I am a wreck, I can barely sleep, when I do the nightmares seem constant. I don’t want to eat, nothing tastes how it should. I hate working, I hate leaving the house. I feel almost aggressive to a co worker who makes me remember while I should be working…
I don’t care about my job, about turn around times, deadlines or completions. I don’t care about being on time, I don’t care. I want to lock the front door and never leave my home again. Yet at the same time, I want to run, run somewhere I don’t have to think, somewhere I don’t have to remember anymore.
I know too much. I have seen too much and now I feel it. Sometimes I wonder if God is trying to destroy me. Is that crazy? Am I crazy?
I am fighting this as hard as I can, but I am feeling it anyway and I know I need to be heard. Friday seems a long way away. I need my T, his support, his guidance, his calm and gentle voice. I need to talk.
I need to tell how hard it was, I need to explain what it was to be a victim, how terrifying and lonely a place that is.
I need someone to know those scary thoughts that I am tapping into right now. I need to be understood, I need others to know how it is to feel that way. I need someone to know what it is to remember how badly I willed my life to end back then. It’s a terrifying place to be.
So I am holed up in my husbands office, waiting it out, while he tries to work and the children play in the next room. Waiting to feel better. Waiting for it to end.