I recently have tried to make my blog more positive. To stop ranting. Because I get a shitstorm of bad comments when I complain. Too damn bad. I need this rant today.
First is denial. I ignore my limited energy and do everything I want to do. Then I end up lying on my brother's couch unable to move and he and his roommate have to drive two cars three hours total to get me home.
And I feel guilty.
Then I try to ration my energy. But I'm filled with complete saddness because of the things I can't get done.
And now there is anger. So much anger I'm hurting myself again.
Maybe I need to cut back. But I can't. I love doing everything I'm doing. But the emotional rollercoaster is killing me.
I don't want to talk about the trauma. When you get me started I can't stop and I end up asking my brother to sit on my bed and sing me to sleep so I don't have any more flashbacks.
I never want to talk about it again. I feel like I should write every single thing I can remember from beginning to when I snapped out of the PTSD fog in 2005. And then through when I fled my hometown in 2006. I'll write it all down and hand it out like a pamphlet. Because I want people to know what happened; I just don't want to talk about it.
I think I need my therapist. I need intense therapy because I'm really messed up right now.
I'm so angry that not everything is organized. I'm angry I live by myself. I'm angry because I thought now that my lungs are doing so much better I would have more energy. And I don't.
I'm angry and sad and frustrated that this isn't like what I thought it would be. I'm not where I thought I would be seven months out from IVs. I should be celebrating.
I should be celebrating. I want to be celebrating. I don't have the energy to be celebrating. I'm finding it hard to find the energy to be myself. And I'm mad about it.
Rant over. Anger still lingering.
-- Post From My iPhone
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