I haven't been blogging, or even writing, which I know has not been good for me. But getting myself to sit down and actually write has been difficult. I've been not wanting to, and not making myself.
On top of all of that, and maybe partly due to some of the ways I've been feeling, my thoughts have been dark. I find myself feeling like, and thinking that, I don't care, and that I don't want to be anywhere. I could care less whether or not I am alive.
A friend of mine suggested that I call my therapist. I have been having some strong urges to SI. She said that if I really need to talk to Dr K, to call her. But that is hard for me.
Talking to anyone when I am in crisis is hard for me. And from experience I know that talking about my urges to SI often get blown out of proportion. Trust me, having the cops come check on me would be a mistake.
I've been trying to stay busy, and in doing so, I think I've gotten myself a little run down. There is a bug going around my area, and I have caught it. And maybe keeping myself so overly busy has gotten my defenses down, and made it easier for me to get sick. But I am also going through this trauma processing, and I think maybe how I am feeling while doing this therapy has made it easier for me to get sick.
The trauma processing is so much harder than I ever imagined it would be. Confronting the words he said I have found to be so much harder than confronting the physical part of the rapes. Although I have been dealing with body memories.
Yesterday was the 23rd anniversary of that night behind the building. And I didn't sleep, not really. I fell asleep, then woke after a dream, and I was just up.
And most of my nightmare was his words. Those things he said to me, what he said I was, what he said I wanted. What he said I deserved.
I just keep thinking, if I quit now, if I just give up, stop therapy, that somehow everything will be better. Will be ok. That I can just live my life and not have to go through this. That I won't have any anxiety, or depression, or nightmares, or get triggered. But then I remember...I tried that.
From 1989 until 2008, that's what I did. I buried it all. I tried to live my life as if I hadn't been raped. And for some of that period of time, I was ok. And the times that I had nightmares, or felt anxiety or depression, or had memories, those times I was able to push back into the recesses again, and then just go on with my life.
And I know that, today, here and now, I can't do that anymore. I don't think I will ever be able to effectively push any of it back into the recesses again. Which leaves me feeling stuck.
I was hoping writing here would make me feel better. I'm not sure that it has helped in any way. Right now I am just so anxious, and still feeling depressed. And not wanting to sleep tonight. Not wanting to even try.