Woke up after a bad night of disorientating nightmares with another migraine. None of the painkillers worked. I felt sick and slow. But I wanted to attend the monthly group today as it was the first one of the year and there were people I was keen to see. Also with the looming anniversary (next week) I thought support from people that understood might help.
Instead I felt unable to verbalise my own fears and sickness. I sat there disassociating while others spoke of their personal traumas and got emotional. It was all too overwhelming. My head hurt with a ferociousness that I’ve not experienced for a long time and tidal waves of nausea made me anxious I might suddenly spew my water everywhere.
I excused myself after less than an hour. I felt so fragile and delicate and upset with myself. Both because of my physical sickness and my inability to speak openly. Plus I wondered deep down if the intense migraine was my body’s way of distracting me from the cold, hard emotion I had brewing in my heart.
As its a long weekend, I knew I wouldn’t get to see my gp anytime soon, so went straight over to the emergency department for some much needed fluid and yet another migraine medicine to try. I sobbed quietly while the meds were administered. Feeling alone, cold and anxious. I’m fed up of the pain and I hate this horrible feeling of dread. My dreams in the back of my mind, threatening to push forth memories and flashbacks.
Finally I left the hospital and met S and the kids at a park. But it was hard to relax. My legs felt like jelly from the meds and a part of me craved the safety of the house. No public breakdowns and no sense of the people around me.
I hate this month and the start of next month (my birthday, in part the reason I blame for what happened to me).
I don’t even know how to express my feelings this year. I have so much to look forward to. And though I try hard to focus, I currently feel like I’m wading through mud.
S is so distant from me. He has always been my confidante but now I know how he feels about the ‘victim card’ and the compassion fatigue. I know I can’t expect him to help me through this.
I just want to get through the next few weeks. I don’t want these horrible migraines. I wish again I could escape somewhere and be alone. I want to isolate and keep the ugliness from everyone, perhaps even pretend myself.
20 years on, I begin to dread the horrible, defeating fact that it will never get easier.