Category Archives: depression

The pool

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swimming pool

The pool scares me. I just stare at it, and dip my toe in, while I try to figure it out.

My particular pool is a new friendship. I don’t get a lot of social invitations. Between my PTSD and depression, I’ve not socialized on any grand level in a long time. I do get out to see friends, but only a choice few, and not on any regular basis.

Jack is a new friend. He was originally a match.com date where we both mutually decided we weren’t right for each other. Then, shortly thereafter, he asked me via email  if I was interested in a friendship. In that moment I remembered asking Carlene in girl scouts if we could be friends, and she just gave me this uncomfortable look. In that moment when I read Jack’s email I thought to myself, “The rules changed? It’s ok to ask for friendship? Where have I been?”

I was invited over for dinner, and you would have thought my elation meant I had been asked to the ball. Something as seemingly pedestrian as a dinner invitation does not come around very often for me. When I was actively alcoholic I was known as the “fun girl” and I had plenty of social invitations, but the transition into sobriety has not been smooth socially. There’s no other way to say it. It’s been lonely.

We made dinner, and talked. We really talked, not just news, weather and sports bullshit which bores me.

I enjoyed his company, but I didn’t want to like it too much. I think I’ll stay in the shallow part of the pool for now.

(Photo credit: freefotouk)

work, work, work …

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Today is a discouraging day. I have a different job from the one I had when I was re-traumatized back in 2008 with a sexual assault on the job. I’m lucky in the sense that I still have a similar salary to the one I had before, but I no longer work in human resources. I left human resources in 2011 so that I could focus more on getting better. In my previous job I traveled a great deal, and it was hard to be consistent in keeping therapy appointments.

However, I find myself wanting to go back to human resources as I miss doing that work. But I’ve had trouble getting interviews. It’s a small HR world where I am, and my guess is that people likely know what happened to me. It’s just a guess on my part. I have no way of knowing if my perception is real. But before this happened to me I never had trouble getting interviews.

It feels like I will never walk out of the shadow of what happened in 2008. My drinking played a role in what happened to me in that I was not able to keep myself safe.

I’ve been sober for almost four years, and I know that having a job I loved helped to keep me sober.

After breaking down crying at work last week I wonder if I’m suitable to work. I want to be, but I find myself questioning my own capability now.

Tonight I am scared about my future. I want to be better, and need to be better. But, I guess Rome wasn’t built in a day.

To my sister Cate …

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Cate,

I don’t know how to start this except to say that I miss you. I’m sorry we’re not close anymore. I know my PTSD scares you. Well, it also scares me as well. I know it stressed you out the last time I visited you two years ago, and I became anxious and shaky at your house. That must have made you feel bad, and responsible for my being triggered. But, it was not your fault, not at all. I asked Cindy, my therapist, why I got so triggered because I love visiting you and the kids. I was very happy to be there. Her theory is that sometimes I get triggered around you because you are a reminder of my trauma because you were there, you were present. We were in the trauma together. I would give anything not to get triggered around you, anything.

I know it freaked you out seeing me crying in the guest room. I have no words for why I felt such despair when I was visiting you. All I can say is that it is not a reflection of how I feel about you. It is not a reflection of the fact that I love spending time with you and the kids. It does not reflect the fact that I love you.

You prefer not talking about all of this. I understand that. I’ve tried to engage you in a conversation about this, and every time I attempt to do so you insist there isn’t a problem. But, of course there’s a problem, as you haven’t had me visit since that last visit 2 years ago. I used to visit twice a year. I don’t think it’s an accident or an oversight that you have not asked me back since then. I understand your reluctance. I just wish that we could have a conversation about this.

I miss how you would text me human resources questions. It was actually flattering that my big corporate executive sister would compare her HR’s assessment of issues with my assessment of the same issues. I loved that you would call or text me to get my opinion on the latest HR issue in your division.

I also miss how everyone thinks we look alike, but you and I are convinced that we don’t look alike. So we roll our eyes at each other when people say, “Oh, sisters! You guys so look so alike.” Remember the time we did summer theatre and we were sick of everyone saying we looked alike so we dressed exactly alike for a rehearsal when we were working backstage? And, remember how it drove everyone crazy because we were constantly mistaken for the other through out the rehearsal? The director just shook his head and asked us, “What is this? Guess who I am day?” We just laughed at him. Mr. B was such a jerk. I’m glad we gave him a headache that day.

I hope some day we can reconnect. But, if not, I still love you.

Love,

Beatriz