When my emotions first began to kick in--probably it's more correct for me to say, when I began allowing myself to notice emotions--I panicked. It felt out of control and scary. I was very afraid I would begin to cry and never stop. Panicking did not help.
I'd like to say I learned my lesson, but it took nearly three years to trust that most emotional states are temporary and that I'm not really out of control, simply moving through a stage necessary to gain closure/understanding/release. I still don't like it. I still don't cope with it well. But I no longer panic.
The onslaught of intensely conflicting emotions which presented themselves as I have moved through integration was unexpected. I knew they were there and assumed I would have to experience them, but I didn't realize I'd have to accept them all at once. Each time I shelved one of the emotions I didn't wish to acknowledge, I felt strongly that I was stopping a necessary process. So I would let the feeling blend with all the others, and almost always ended up feeling confused and frustrated.
I stopped mapping my PTSD symptoms when I began my newest project. I was concerned my symptoms would become unmanageable. There were times when I think they were. My chat phobia has become problematic even at work. There have been times when I've lied to a client: "My internet connection doesn't seem to be working well today--is it all right if we talk on the phone for a few minutes?" It seemed a better alternative than: "Hey--I'm feeling a little attacked/freaked out/afraid of being online and I can't tell what's behind the words you're typing, so I'm going to go sit in a corner for awhile and watch the world go by, okay?"
At this point, I think I'm beyond tired. Yesterday I realized that there are some personal relationship things I've let lapse in order to work on my latest project. Normally this realization would be accompanied by guilt and I'd do all I can to try to contact people I haven't spoken with for awhile--or to connect emotionally with people I've been talking to but not really saying anything of substance. But I'm too tired. And I'm not finished yet.
Therapist said this process would take awhile. I knew that before I started. I didn't realize though, how obsessed I would become with finishing--which is sort of stupid since I become obsessed with nearly everything of importance in my life. When I realized yesterday the extent of how I've checked out of life (with the exception of work and therapy), I awaited the inevitable guilt, which didn't come. In fact, I sort of felt that I was just too tired to care. My heart said if I want to maintain all those friendships I've been cultivating for that past few years, I needed to spend some quality time doing so. My head said every person I love has told me I could have time out if I needed it and they'd still be around when I'm finished. I'm not sure which to believe, but the point is really moot. I have no energy to do more than what I'm doing.
As a side topic, I want to talk...and talk...and talk...but each time I try, some things happen:
1. I feel crazy. Not a good feeling.
2. I feel distanced from the person listening. Not a good feeling.
3. I'm afraid I'm talking about something vitally important to me--something I wish to be important to the ones I love--but it's not. It's only pertinent to me, and my feeling is they'll listen, but they really don't care. They'd just like me to get on with it, get over it, and be me again. Not a good feeling.
Number three is probably the most daunting of that list. I've never been good at sharing things that felt life-changing to me--but I've wanted to. In the process of integration, I've encountered memories I've never wished to look at. Many of them involve me telling a parent of things that felt deeply moving and important in some way, only to be ignored or rebuffed or, worse, punished somehow. I understand it's wrong of me to project the expectation that this will happen now onto the people who care about me. It's also nearly impossible not to, given my current status.
As for being me again...it's not going to happen. I knew when I began that there was no going back. Samantha, present-day, was not whole. I am now in the process of becoming whole and I don't know what the end result will be. I believe, based on recent experiences, that I will begin to feel some emotions in a more authentic way, and some of the things I felt before will change. I don't know exactly how that will happen--I just know that it will. I don't like dealing with unknowns. I'm doing many things I don't particularly like, lately.
Darrin says a number of people have been reaching out to me lately. I haven't noticed as I should. I hope, if you're one of them, you'll forgive me and keep reaching out. Someday soon, I'm going to need all the help I can get. I can't explain now, but I will as soon as I have the words.
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