Today is a write off. My throat is tight so air feels minimal. I feel unsafe. Although I didn’t have nightmares in the obvious sense I had clear dreams about losing control of my body, nearly falling overboard on a ship into black water, getting trapped in a small room and having to claw my way out of it, pulling it apart piece by piece – yeah, my brain made it easy on me to work out. But the feelings in the dream weren’t comfortable. Fortunately my husband was able to drive the kids to school. He had not long left when the first tidal wave of anxiety hit me like a freight train. In this instance I went for the diazapam.
Throughout the day I’ve suffered a debilitating migraine, panic attacks threatening to come on, only controlled by keeping up diazapam. At one point memories seeped through my brain and the sense of darkness and despair and the insidious shame was too much. I fleetingly considered self harm. I pictured myself doing it, the blade, the release, but after so long? I know how hard it is to stop doing that once you go down that track. I want an escape, a release from the pain – conversely, I can’t stand the memory and the shame. The sense of suffocation. But i retreated to my bedroom. I have spent the entire day in my bedroom. The laundry isn’t done, the dishwasher isn’t unstacked and reloaded. There were things I was going to do today. But I failed. I just want to be in my bedroom right now.
Have I failed? Have I let it get to me?
I feel afraid. I feel alone. I feel scared of my own shadow. I feel angry. Why don’t I get to live my life?
My breathing is rapid again. I’m sad. I’m in pain.