Category Archives: trauma

Under the table

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English: Wooden kitchen table and chairs

Today I told Doc what I learned from Cate last week. He listened, and then I just heard the world “trauma” and I started shaking badly. He then asked, “Is someone having a hard time? What can I do to help?” I could feel that “the little one” wanted to get under the table next to me, and I told Doc that I was aware of this. She really wanted to get under that table. But I resisted. It was weird, not normal. Loco. Loca. Loony. No! We will not get under the table.

But she insisted, and the more she insisted, the more I shook. The more I dug my heels in, the harder I shook. Something had to give. Then Doc said, “I invite you to get under the table if that will help.” You get to a point sometimes in life when you run out of the plausible normal-sounding options. When you reach this point you are at the end of your rope, and you start entertaining those options that seemed crazy and insane because you are desperate for some kind of peace. This was that kind of moment for me.

I leapt for that table like a lifeline, so much so that I almost hit my head on the table. I feared getting under the table because I didn’t want to “lose myself.” I was afraid of having a dissociative experience that I would not recall, like I had last week. Surprisingly, what happened is that my body became peaceful the very moment I got under that table. I felt peaceful, and then very sleepy. I could have slept under that table  for hours.

We continued our session with me under the table. It was weird, but it worked, and I shook a whole lot less. If someone told me this morning that I would end my day speaking to my psychiatrist from under a table, I would have laughed at the improbability of that scenario. You just never know what works.

(Photo credit: Wikipedia)

measures of success

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Measure of Success

I shouldn’t be on here writing. I really need to be grocery shopping and getting ready for my work meeting tomorrow. But I found that I’ve been staring off into space for at least 3o minutes, so I might as well be somewhat productive by writing.

It’s been a tough handful of days, but I think today has been the hardest thus far. I wasn’t able to get to sleep until after 5 am! Then I slept until 1:20 pm! I think I was terrified to sleep because I’ve been having nightmares, and it’s also the dreaded anniversary time. Tuesday is the actual anniversary date, but I can feel the build up. I’ve known peeps that have said to me, “Well, don’t acknowledge it. Let it be any other day.”

Brilliant! Why didn’t I think of that? Let’s just find the automatic shut-off system to my brain. If it were only so simple. I would welcome the opportunity to let the day pass on by like any other.

I can tell I’m losing time here and there. For example, yesterday I needed to mail a book back that I rented. I told myself I needed to get the packing tape and book out of my office to package the book to mail it back to Barnes and Noble. I went to my office, and could not find the tape and the book. I then came back out to the living room to see both items sitting on the coffee table. I had just been sitting near the coffee table when I got up to go to the office.  Seeing both items on the coffee table gave me the heebs. I have no memory of retrieving those items. Dissociation time is upon me! It’s a scary thing to feel that you cannot trust your brain.

Everything is in slow motion today, like the fast forward button on the DVR is stuck on super slow. Today I managed to get dishes in the dishwasher, and that felt like a ridiculous victory. Then I picked up my laundry from the laundromat, and felt victorious again. Kinda funny since I didn’t even wash or fold the clothes. I just picked them up, but that feat took me 2 hours to complete. Waking up, making myself get out of bed, talking myself into facing the day, getting ready, etc. All of that took two hours!

My measures of success change depending on how I’m doing.

(Photo credit: hijukal)

I don’t pretend

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vintage bridal shower invite

I don’t pretend. It’s a gift and  curse rolled into one. I received one bridal invitation, and I am anticipating a second one soon for another person. The two gals, Anita and Anastasia are the brides-to-be. I work with both of them. Anastasia and I are not close at all. We’ve never been kindred spirits. We pretty much keep to ourselves and our own crowd.

However, Anita and I used to be very good friends. In fact, she was one of the first people I opened up to about my sexual assault four years ago right after it happened. Unfortunately, she was less than a friend about the whole experience. Her first words to me were, “I’m sorry, but I can’t handle this.” These words were devastating to me, and it took me a couple of years to understand that there was a very personal reason for her that caused her to respond this way that had nothing to do with me. I can now understand and respect a person feeling this way. What made it worse was the fact that she carried on after that as if nothing happened with me. She would not ask me how I was doing, and as soon as she realized I was no longer the “fun girl” I used to be she moved on and out of our friendship. We’ve tried to mend this fence, but we’re left just feeling awkward around each other. We have no ill will towards each other, but we also no longer have the friendship kind of love that used to connect us.

My point is that I won’t be attending either bridal shower. My logic is that I am not friends with either one. Some of my friends think I should go, especially since I work with both of them. Screw that! I don’t play politics. I don’t do obligatory crap, and I don’t pretend.

I pretended for so long in my life, and it’s no longer in my bones to pretend. I pretended to care about my parents long after the love had died, and it ate at me. I pretended to be fine while I drank and had sex addictively, so much so that those addictions played a part in my sexual assault.

There is no more pretending. I am not an actress. I am me, and the beauty and upside of that is when I tell I love you, and that you mean a lot to me in my life you know it is true and real. When I hug you and greet you warmly, and ask you how you are doing you know that it is real and sincere. You never have to wonder if I mean what I say.

I don’t pretend.

(Photo credit: lulubrooks)