And now I fall apart.
I can’t move, just can’t seem to get my shit together. My lungs hurt more than usual at the two rib sites, my head is buzzing and the crying comes and goes. E.’s gone with a friend for at least a week so it’s ok. With R.R.’s release, there is a Nicoles Law restraining order in effect so she’s safe.
The area between the heart and the head has always been my battle ground. If there will be a place I fall, it’s always there. Discerning boundaries in that netherworld between the two is so difficult for me. It’s become easier just to lock people out except for my very close family members. Living as almost a shut-in is no way to find health but it’s just not possible to move forward. The floor is glass spanning a deep cavern between two mountains and not to be trusted. The few times I have, I misstepped off the edge and took innocent people with me. Even if it is just me, it’s a long, long way to fall and I’m too old and too scared. Still clinging to the wall from the most recent attempt, I can’t get my foot out there. I just can’t do it. There are more nasty people than good out there, you know it, I know it so let’s not write trite but pretty words saying otherwise.
Where do we go from here? How do you walk on as if you haven’t just been accosted, mauled internally? This alone was horrific all the way around, in too many ways to even type out; for E., for her life, for seven to nine years, what of her future and so forth; for me, the constant state of panic, the non-stop looking for answers, the guilt that eats at me … and then we have the years before, all the years before that already gave me a diagnosis of P.T.S.D. from physical violence. I feel it all falling down like when the waves would turn from the playful ones of the day to the sucking, pulling, crashing ones of the late afternoon of a day spent at the beach. You would be sunburnt, salty, tired and suddenly, without realizing it, unable to fight a wave and have to let go until it bobbed you to the surface, take a breath and look to see if you could put your feet on the floor. It seems like you live with it and then when the silence hits, when everything clears, the shaking starts, the “What the fuck happened here?” begins and you hide under the bed.
Obviously, I have no answers. One direction is to see if I can still be in therapy, I’m sure I’ve missed at least one appointment with my head being in such a whirl. I know I’ve missed one med appointment.
There is my coldness, my ice. This is my anger, the damaging anger. My anger that hurts people, not that the people who receive this kind of anger aren’t deserving of it (This type of rage only comes out to the very selfish, unkind or damaging. Typical anger comes out to others and that blows out in two minutes.) but it is encompassing me. I look at the world, those not close to me and they are all dangerous to me now in my mind. That alone is making me cry huge tears. I love people. I honestly love people but I have walls, impassable walls that even I can’t get around let alone others.
I’m sorry World, I’m so sorry that I love you but can’t be in love with you anymore.