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Saturday, February 5, 2011

"The hardest battle you're ever going to fight is the battle to just be you." ~Leo F. Buscaglia

It's been about two weeks since I've written anything here. During the first week I didn't even think about it. I was having difficulty navigating almost every area of my life and blogging did not occur to me even once. This is a little bit odd since, for the past five years, I've used this as a place to unwind, look at things rationally, spew self-pity and melodrama, and record ideas and experiences. Writing has been a coping device. Two weeks ago, I forgot it.

The level of disinterest in people I love and in my life, in general, has increased dramatically in the past fourteen days. I've been trying to "fake it", as instructed by Therapist (Faking it = continuing normal interaction with those closest to me including initiating conversations and allowing physical closeness, and pretending I like and have interest in both those things). I've been trying to be honest with those closest to me. This is what I've learned from doing those two things:
1. Faking it makes me cranky.
2. Faking it makes me stressed.
3. Faking it causes intense panic attacks.
4. Faking it is increasing the non-interest and numbness I feel toward people.
5. Faking it is a very bad idea.
6. Most people don't like it very much when a spouse or parent or best friend is being honest and says she doesn't really care about them anymore.
7. Most people are sort of stunned/hurt/angry when such honesty is imparted.
8. Most people don't really know what to do next when I honestly tell them what is happening with me and they don't address it ever fact, they don't really want to address anything with me anymore.
9. Honesty, in this particular case, might possibly fall under the auspices of Too Much Information.
10. Honesty might be a very bad idea.

I'm doing those things anyway, bad ideas or not, because I don't know what else to do.

I talked for a long time with Tolkien Boy a couple of weeks ago. I have to hand it to him. He allowed me to rant and argue and try to explain all the reasons why I just need to give in and let this happen (translation: stop fighting this overwhelming disinterest and apathy toward people I'm supposed to be in love with). Then he told me how he felt about my current emotional state. Funny, I forgot that he might feel something about this situation. By the end of our very long conversation I felt almost "normal" (my normal, of course, which is still wildly abnormal, but I was feeling like maybe I could have deep feelings for people again without internally combusting).

But then I didn't talk with anyone again for awhile.

And I spent tons of time alone.

Although, I do have to admit, I tried to contact people. Apparently my social availability schedule does not coincide with anyone else's.

Thursday I decided it had been too long since Jason and I have talked, so I called him. I didn't want to, but I rarely want to do anything lately--nothing new there. And I told him about the newest developments inside me. This time though, I didn't feel concern about offending him with my "I don't really care about anyone--you're included in that global feeling, or lack, as the case may be), as I had when I talked with Tolkien Boy. And it had nothing to do with Jason being someone different--it's just that that's how far the numbness had progressed.

Thursday night I finally talked about this with Darrin. He just stared at me and didn't say anything. Finally he asked what I wanted to do about it. I said nothing. He said that didn't seem fair to anyone who cares about me. Sigh...  fair...

Two days ago I realized I haven't checked the email address connected with this blog for more than two months. So I did. And I found a lovely comment for my blog that needed to be published (thanks, Debbie), and some personal emails from people I've never met before who have visited me here. 

This morning I decided that regardless of how I might be feeling, it's rude of me to not respond to emails, so I sat down and read them again. And I wrote back. 

I'm not sure what happened during that process. It could be that I realized some people have difficulties exceeding my own; or maybe I realized that one sweet wife loves her SSA/abuse survivor/PTSD husband so much that she has spent months reading my entire blog, hoping to find answers that will help sustain their long, beautiful marriage; or maybe a bit of the love those writers have for the people struggling in their lives made its way into my own struggling heart--I don't know. 

What I do know is that I found myself weeping, understanding the hurt and the loneliness, recognizing that people who love me would probably express similar words about wishing they could help me, strengthen me, comfort me--somehow guide me through the latest stress that is turning my life upside down. And something inside me reminded me that I'm not a spouse, or a mom, or a friend because people just grant those things freely. I've worked with the people closest to me to build relationships, to grow love, and to learn how to receive it (still working on it). 

I'm not ready to lose that. I'm not willing to give in. I'm not going to just not feel.

Sorry PTSD. You lose.


  1. Do yourself a positive. Drop the therapist like a bad habit. Once I finally stopped listening to my therapist's crap life became worth living.

  2. I'm happy you're feeling better about life--whatever that may mean (not knowing your background, this is rather assumptive, I understand). However, I'm guessing you've read this one blog post only.

    While I often get angry at Therapist, he has been one of the greatest forces for good as I've sorted through mess left over from rape and abuse. And the most wonderful thing about him: If I told him today I was stopping therapy, he would wish me well, congratulate me on my hard work, and tell me he knows I'll be successful.

    Basically, I call the shots in my therapeutic work. Anyone who knows me understands there is no other possibility for me. Therapist understands this, as well. He might suggest things--but that's the extent of it. If I tell him what I think I'd like to do, he lets me know if he's trained to help me, or if he feels I need help from another source. He doesn't say I should or shouldn't...

    So until I'm ready to go it on my own, I think I'll keep him around. While I don't always like what he says, I'm smart enough to understand when it's good for me to try anyway. And if I fail, or switch courses, Therapist will work with me within the auspices of my comfort zone.

    He reminds me at every visit that his goal is for me to stop paying him...and he'll miss me when I'm gone. :-)

  3. Faking it is tricky--I think occasionally it's helpful, but too much of it makes my relationships feel, well, fake. I hope you feel better soon.

  4. Thanks, Brozy. Also--thanks for chatting yesterday. When I get a non-crazy day (I think I will schedule one, as the chances of one just happening are nonexistent), I'm calling you so we don't get interrupted by my stupid work day.

  5. I have a hard time faking it too, Sam, and not everyone likes my honesty about me. Some people, when I tell them I'm having a hard time, just want to fix or correct me, instead of listening and empathising. I'm glad you're reaching out to others. Keep doing that! Try reaching out to God too.


  6. Debbie--I get that from some people, too. It's a little frustrating sometimes. As for God...well...I wouldn't be here today without Him. We talk throughout the day and He is my very best friend. Thanks for the reminder of the Being who holds my heart.