One more thing

I don’t get. I can recognise my achievements, now, I can look back and see what I’ve done but I can’t feel any pride in it. Nothing. No emotional connection. In the rare moments I do feel something that gets cut off damn fast.

It’s not like I never feel pride in what I’ve done, damn I can be the smuggest git around at times. But for small things, I’ll remember them and will bring them up to remind people in the future. However when it comes to bigger harder, life altering work, even when it’s small steps towards those goals, nothing. I just don’t feel anything.

I’ve always known this, but it’s being highlighted by the other night because I did good. But I also got really fucking lucky. When I get into a bad state what I need is physical reassurance, that means hugs and I don’t mean a quick 3 seconds with a pat on the back. Which is so difficult to explain to people who’s primary love language is not touch. This is also a bad time to live alone, when I need to be around people, I need to be held. I need to be a child, I know I can’t and that breaks my heart. But I digress.

I was in meltdown, but I managed to call the crisis line, instead of the drug dealer. But also my quasi-partner had mentioned that they were in town for a poly event, given they live a billion* miles away and don’t come into town too often, and it was for a communal thing not something private, what a stroke of luck. I didn’t know if I was going to be able to leave the house, or deal with other people but after a lot of thinking and weighing up options. The choices were crisis service or taxi mission – crowded pup – partner – taxi back… Then I realised I better check with them that they’d be okay with me stealing turning up and them for 5 mins! When I got the okay for that the decision was made, I was getting a hug. And it was worth every penny, every spoon, every word I had to speak during a non verbal time. And they were so generous I got 10 mins when they should have been hosting. I got a good long hug, had a little cry, went back home. And yeah I don’t magically feel all better now. But it did help. And the feeling from the hug is making me feel bittersweet about the achievement because I feel nothing for all that I did. I was a BAD day, a massive struggle, I was not in a good place and I did really well, yes I got very lucky with getting that hug and I am so grateful but I for all the work I did, I feel nothing.

*slight exaggeration

Nobody expects the family-ish imposition

CW mention of drugs, self harm

This isn’t the post I was expecting to write, it’s not the one that’s been sat half written in drafts for weeks. It is the one that has been tearing slices through my mind and heart, punching me in the gut and ripping it’s way through what’s left of me constantly for over a month. Until last night, when it could have gone so very badly.

A few Mondays ago… started off really well but turned sour quickly and then the shit kept piling on. And piling. And just didn’t stop. For 2 days, re-traumatising, stressful, aggravating, depressing all on top of a month that’s already difficult and full of bereavement and complicated memories.
This included contacting my mother to ask for a favour, not something I ever considered would happen. But it was necessary for what I wanted, so I did. And I did so quite easily, plain, to the point. She was unexpectedly helpful, too helpful, I think she may be trying to buy me back. Because that’s a thing she believes one can do, buy peoples love. For her love and money seem to be the same thing. But contacting her brought up a lot more than I expected it to, and having her name sat in my phone where I could see it was triggering a lot of anger and stress. I had to archive the chat. I also had to call the dentist because I broke my filling from clenching my jaw.

I was so full of nervous energy and anger that i kept moving, and moving, and doing things, so much stuff. Could not sit still, could barely sleep, even now i feel the need to move. Friends have said “you can stop” but I can’t, not really. I have had moments of peace, and plenty of solitude but not true peaceful solitude. I can’t. Do you know what will happen if I do that? If I stop? I’ll go out and buy a load of coke, cook it up and smoke it. I’ll open up that bag of blades and watch the blood flow, and not in a way that will be helpful. I do not feel safe letting go and feeling without reservation unless there are others around. Don’t even have to be talking to me, often better if they’re not, then I can catch moments to process, or do things like write this. But then there’s people around to quickly distract and pull me up out of whatever darkness was taking over that time. I feel safer letting go when there’s someone else around to stop me because for once I’d like to feel what it’s like to be truly taken care of. to be able to fully let go and not have to parent myself and be the one responsible for my own care at the same time as trying to process my trauma.
It means that I can’t let go at home. I can’t process for more than a few minutes before I have to shut things down. My attempts at disrupting it so far have ended up in days not getting out of bed until the carer turns up and reminded me I had appointments. Then going the other way and not stopping, until I pass out. Last 10 days I only went swimming and could not motivate for anything else, even swimming I cancelled eventually. Except for a renewed interest in sugar binge and a huge struggle not to waste money on crack.
Neither is good or healthy, I was constantly tense, waiting for her to get back in touch, waiting for something else to fall out of my brain, waiting for the next bullshit to come kick me while I’m down. I can’t let my guard down. I have never been able to, ever, my entire life.

I’ve put my self forward for trauma therapy, though with the state of the NHS (thanks government) it will be years. I have been avoiding it for about 15years. Might be ready for it now. Who knows, maybe after that I’ll be able to see a future for myself, if I survive it.