I’ve tried to type this post so many times, but for one reason or another I just couldn’t make myself do it. I’m struggling quite a bit right now, and (pardon my french, but) it’s been such a mindfuck. A lot has happened since I last posted on here, but my brain has been so all over the place that I thought the best thing I could do was to just be still for a while. I’ve felt an overwhelming need to just be quiet for once. Alone. Retreated. I started therapy three weeks ago, and the timing has really been perfect. I didn’t feel like I was in a place where I needed it, but then I started having some PTSD issues all of a sudden, and knew it was time. In my last post, here, I talked about how I wasn’t feeling prepared for the fall weather because the little signs of fall approaching was making me feel very anxious, and I was right because those feelings have only intensified. I’m now having issues in the car particularly when we go into sharp left curves; my chest gets tight and I feel like I can’t breathe. Then the nightmares started where I wake myself up screaming at night, which is actually slightly funny because my damaged cranial nerves make my screams sound like something that would come from an injured goat 🙄. (I would know, I have four.)

It took me a while to see the signs more clearly, but I knew things were getting more complicated when I figured out that I was actually scared to go to bed. My sleeping habits were steadily worsening as a result of staying up way too late every night to keep the bad thoughts at bay for just a little longer. As long as my mind is occupied by a project, the tv, or a chore, then I feel mostly normal; but just as I cover myself with a blanket when I lie down at night, so do the crippling waves of depression and anxiety cover my brain. Then the tears come, and later, the screaming.

“Hey, I’m feeling tired
My time, is gone today
You flirt with suicide
Sometimes, that’s okay
Do what others say
I’m here, standing hollow
Falling away from me
Falling away from me

Day, is here fading
That’s when, I would say
I flirt with suicide
Sometimes kill the pain
I can always say
It’s gonna be better tomorrow
Falling away from me
Falling away from me

Beating me down
Beating me, beating me
Down, down
Into the ground
Screaming some sound
Beating me, beating me
Down, down
Into the ground”

Korn

Along with the sleeping issues came some new food issues; more specifically, not wanting to eat. Granted, I could lose a few, but it was a noticeable change in eating habits. My therapist, Amanda, says that this is all part of the grieving process. What exactly am I grieving? The loss of a former life. Even though my recovery has been remarkable, it’s been remarkable because my injury was horrific and almost always fatal. Every aspect of my life is different. All of it. Some of it ACTUALLY for the better, but I feel like a stranger to myself a majority of the time. Almost like a state of… dissociation. (Or that could just be the edibles kicking in now 😉). Either way, Amanda is getting me ready for EMDR therapy. It sounds weird, but is supposed to work well for trauma, so I’m open to try it. We did a session with sandtray therapy last time, and I found it weird at first as well, but ended up liking it. I was looking at all the objects not expecting to connect to anything, but in about ten seconds I picked out an army tank, handcuffs, and a house that was on fire. Then I had to describe each one:

• The tank was the accident that came in and caused so much destruction
• The handcuffs represented me being trapped
• The burning house is the severe burning pain I have in my feet, and a metaphor for the constant fires/problems we have to constantly put out because of this accident.

If you’ve made it this far, you must think I’m close to a gun in my mouth, but I promise that’s not the case. My family is incredibly supportive of my writing and going to therapy; they understand when pain prevents me from being able to do something, and they have never complained about how much slack they’ve had to pick up for me through this ordeal. In fact, I am quickly approaching the first anniversary on October 8. My husband and I are celebrating with a week at the beach, reflecting and relaxing. I think a change in scenery will be a good thing even though I can’t get in the pool or ocean (whole other long, boring story). Apparently while I was still in the ICU, my neurosurgeon, Dr. Godzik, said that he wanted to see me on the beach drinking a Mai Tai in a year. I don’t remember it, but it has been especially important for my husband to get a picture of that Mai Tai on October 8, so that’s what we’re going to do!

By the time you’re reading this, I will be on vacation and probably very distanced from social media, so please don’t worry about me and start blowing my phone up because that will just cause me more stress. It’s going to take a lot for me to hit the ‘publish’ button on this post, so it’s going to be a virtual “ding dong ditch”; I’m gonna smash that publish button and run like hell. Probably throw my phone in the garbage too.