Darkness. Frozen. Numb.
While I don’t remember the abuse, my body obviously does.
But I didn’t come to this blog to convince you that something happened to me. I am here to practice admitting to myself that something happened.
(sometime in 2015)
no no No!
No! No! No! NO!
I’m in my bed, in the dark, wrapped up in a blanket, hugging the life out of my stuffed bear, and screaming. Screaming at the top of my voice. Screaming like I’ve never screamed before.
No one is there with me. I was just screaming at the room, at the world. I had been crying without an apparent reason (which happens to me sometimes) and I felt I needed to yell the word “no” over and over again. It felt like the right thing, like something I absolutely had to do. I needed to yell that word and sob.
I remember this particular sobbing not because I hadn’t cried before but because I had no memory of crying like this before. It felt different, like I was really deeply feeling a pain that I didn’t know I had inside.
I have been working on learning to form my own preferences and identity and a part of that was allowing my feelings to pass through my consciousness. I wanted to learn to observe them, like clouds, instead of immediately judging them. So, this helped me experience that epic sob-fest without understanding why or where it originated.
The other thing that helped was being on meds. Being on mood medication drew me out of the fog of depression and anxiety. My brain felt safer and it started revealing flashes of memories and feelings that I wasn’t capable of feeling before.
That’s not to say I understood what was happening. Earlier this year, I stopped my meds because the meds alone were not fixing the problems I had. Now I’m wondering if I stopped taking them because my subconscious was frightened of these new things bubbling up and I didn’t have a therapist or a plan or any way of dealing with them. Whatever.
Now I have professional help and I’m back on meds and sh*t is about to get super real.