My Darlings

There is a welcome quality about the darkness this morning. It is very cool for July, and a light rain falls, and sprinkles the cat's backs with drops. They are misty, when they come in to feed. The dog is happy to sleep in today, and he is lovely in sleep. He simply wants belly rubs, but not too much, and then head rubs, when I move, and disturb him. Georgia, again, tries to occupy my lap, as the love vacuum that she is. 

I am not sure what to write this morning. I have been feeling a bit "iffy" for several days. Just some depression and bad dreams about sexual assault. Yesterday morning, my PTSD (post traumatic stress disorder) was triggered. http://www.nimh.nih.gov/health/topics/post-traumatic-stress-disorder-ptsd/index.shtml

I have some stressors that have increased noticeably in the past month. But I haven't tried to untangle all of the emotions and thoughts involved. So yesterday, I spent the day huddled, turtled, in my apartment. I had flashbacks, and moved into a defensive position: I called the unicorn meat eating cats inside for the day, loaded the dog onto the sofa, locked all the doors, and watched tv. No foodbank, no group therapy.

I don't want it to sound pathetic or weird or odd. If you felt someone waited outside your door to attack you, you wouldn't go out, would you? Of course, I know that no one is out there, other than the drunk next door, and therein lies the rub. The drunk next door came over to borrow a cup of sugar, and some cigarettes. He is not, in reality, particularly physically threatening. As they say in these parts, I could open a can of whoop ass on him, no problem.

It was simply the knowledge of his proximity to me, along with those increased stressors, that sent me into a tailspin. And there I stayed, unable, unwilling to leave the apartment. I did polish the the mahogany of the chairs, and the cherry wood of the tv stand. I washed every dish in the apartment, and scrubbed the sink in the kitchen. I de-cobwebbed the walls, and cleaned the glass and frames of the pictures: these are all things that make me feel like I am ready, for whatever life has. If I can control nothing else, I can control how clean my apartment is.

I don't feel as if I am in hiding, but rather, tightening my perimeter.

Of course, I used my phone to call my support network, and got an appointment today with my shrink. It's incredible that he has an opening. Right after that, I have a visit with my therapist. If I think too much about leaving, I will not be able to go to either of those. So I am done writing about it, and am down to living one moment at a time.

I will have to pretend, as AA would have it, "As if...". I will have to act "as if" I am not afraid when I go out today. I will have to act "as if" I am a regular person going about her regular day and run errands. I will have to act "as if" I am not holding my breath, or racing to get home after the doctors' visits. I will have to act "as if" I am not hyper vigilant, and hyper alert. Instead of my usual careless approach to my appearance, I will wear makeup today, and put on jewelry, all the finishing touches. I will dress boho rich, as if I still had a home and status and money behind me.

That's enough of that. I have just grounded myself with a phone call, and I feel able to move on with my day, as planned. Sometimes finding your safe place and staying there is the answer. But I cannot afford another day, curled up inside: it is too dangerous, so new in recovery as I am, again. I cannot control the outside world. I can only control my reactions to it.

So I want to hold your hand for a moment, before my day begins. I need you, more than you will ever need me, my darlings.