The nature of the beast. Last week I tasted the sweetness of what I thought was healing. I saw and felt the sun, I felt positive, I felt happy. I allowed myself to believe this was the start. I smiled, I felt the shifts beginning inside of me.
My psychiatrist had been away working nights, so on the Monday after not seeing her for a couple of weeks, I looked forward to showing her this improved self. More like myself.
However, this was not to be. The beast took its grip once more. Reminding me that to extent I am it’s mercy and I can never become complacement.
Sunday night I had a succession of cruel, violent, shocking nightmares. Unlike anything I have experienced for long time. I have no idea what prompted this. Each one woke me up in panic, terrified, upset, rocked to the core. I was able to sleep again, but then another nightmare. Equally as shocking, vivid, violent, graphic. I felt ripped apart.
By morning I was just a shell of myself. I could barely think/move.
By the time i saw the Dr, I couldn’t fake the mood I’d previously been in. I sat there with lank hair, no doubt the 1000 yard stare, I was anxious, jumpy, sad, I just felt terrible. I tried to tiredly and without much enthusiasm sell how id been the previous week. It sounded unbelievable. I WAS happy, I WAS content, I WAS feeling better, it’s just the nightmares you see.
Clearly she struggled to imagine anything past the state I was in and increased my medication again.
The following day, I heard news about someone from my past. The information was volunteered in a bid to make me feel better.
But here’s the thing, for some people, closure comes in knowing other people are suffering. And that’s fine. I can understand that, and respect that. For me, when the devil has come into my life, I don’t want it to come back into my life. Ever. Through any form. Particularly through the someone I care about it. It reinforces it’s insidious, dark nature, that it can always get to me. That I can never be free. There is a part of me, the dark curious part that wants to know, but that’s just natural human curiousty, I refuse to give into that. It’s that same curiosity that wants to look at a car crash. It’s morbid.
I feel miserable. I’m wondering if I can get through this. I feel weak and tired. Last week I’m sure was a promise and not a cruel joke.
Damn these stupid nightmares.