The decision

My decision to post my poem was not a long thought out considered one. Perhaps it should have been. Perhaps if it was I wouldn’t have posted it. Ultimately I randomly decided that it was sitting on a document in my phone and I wanted to purge myself of it. However in truth I copied and pasted it so I never actually had to re read it. I just knew that because of it’s content from before it would be more responsible of me to find some helplines from countries that seem most common on here and post them in case anyone is triggered terribly and struggles to find a helpful number themselves.

I have already written a blog entry about the pain and fall out from writing that very poem caused me in the first place. I know these fantastic bloggers on here would do an excellent link now to refer to that entry but I don’t know how!

Last night, even though I took 100mg quietiepiene (I’ve been on a lower dose for a few months now) and 5mg diazapam, I had panic attacks all night. The fear and anxiety I think of the loss of control. I have posted something that’s so painful, so deeply secret, shameful and so significant onto the internet. Am I crazy? Well, I suppose technically, yes! I do have a psychiatrist. But the thing is, I see my therapist week after week, we slough away at this menacing deep dark tumour. I’m tired, I’m miserable and I’m hurting. I don’t talk about my history. I don’t admit to anyone my painful history. When I’ve been awake most of the night with nightmares – I can’t explain why I’m so tired. I can’t admit as a grown woman why I get scared of the dark. Why I have PTSD. When those symptoms are worse. What that means for me. Why sometimes I don’t want affection. Why pregnancy was so hard for me. Why drs appointments can be so hard for me. Why my monthly cycle can be so triggering for me. Why something on TV can affect me. Why someone’s ‘joke’ on Facebook can ruin my whole day, why a news article can make me sick. Why I want therapy but dread it. Why a particular anniversary causes terrible ramifications for me even this many years later. You see so many things feel out of my control. So many things I try to manage.

But this blog – this is mine. And I wrote a horrible painful poem. I will honour that pain on here. If I decide to pull it, I will, because I can.

My life is complicated and painful. I’m not going to hide poems I write as well.

But the shame and the fear, unfortunately it’s there too. I only hope printing it minimises it. Keeping it didn’t help.

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