Why can't everything be easy?

A friend told me yesterday that it has been agonizing to watch me claw my way through all the conflicting emotions I feel. She said she can tell when I'm overwhelmed by them. She said she wishes she could help. I have never confided in her about what I feel, and I've told her very little about the things that have been happening in my life over the past 18 months. I was sort of offended that she would make a personal comment like that when I have never invited her to be a part of my life. I was also a little bit gratified that she cared enough to notice--more conflict.

I recognized, about three months ago, that I was experiencing less clarity of thought, decreased ability to make decisions about my emotional needs, and huge conflict in my feelings and desires. It was, and is, not unusual for me to feel simultaneously the need to be held and comforted along with an extreme desire to be left alone. I'm dying for help from someone--anyone--and more than likely I'll end up slapping away any metaphorically outstretched hand. "Agonizing to watch..." said my friend...imagine how it feels.

I'm trying to understand why this is happening. I know it's not emotionally healthy for me to say, "Please care about me deeply, and then go away and leave me alone." I've allowed more emotional intimacy with more people this year than ever before in my life--not just virtually, but also in person. I've allowed physical touch from people other than my husband--not just quick hug-and-step-away stuff--but real, honest, communicative touch. I've even allowed hand touching for longer than a Mormon handshake, with one person. And what my therapist(s) have told me is true--there is greater communication when people touch while talking. It's not that I've never touched people before, I've just never allowed them to touch me.

So now I'm trying to process all this emotional intimacy/non-sexual physical touch stuff, and it's messing me up inside. For whatever reason, it seems impossible for me to just accept that certain things are. I have to know why, what it means to me, personally, and how I will use it in my life. So I've been digging around, trying to figure things out and I've come up with exactly zero answers.

In the meantime, I believe I've been taking my frustration out on my friends. So I'm going to explain my feelings--and then, if you're one of those lucky people, you'll know why I'm acting like a crazy person:
1. I feel that for the first time in my life, I actually need other people.
2. There are specific needs I have for each person in my life. These may include needing to feel loved, accepted, respected. They may even include a desire to be hugged or held. I have not felt these needs since I was in my early teens. To have them return now is disconcerting.
3. I feel horribly guilty that I need these things. I want to be able to accept any friendship offered and just float along until we get bored of one another. I don't want to muddy the waters by "needing" anything--especially when that might make the other person uneasy or uncomfortable. I also feel that there's something wrong with me because I want something, emotionally, from a friend.
4. In the midst of all this, I feel an extreme need to be independent. If someone offers to help, I'll probably say no--even though I'm dying to say yes.
5. Because of all the guilt, neediness, and assertive independence, I feel a compelling need to isolate myself--perhaps on a desert island until I die.

After reviewing all the evidence above, I have come to the only possible conclusion. In spite of the chronological and physical data to the contrary, I have just turned three years old. There is no other explanation for my behavior and feelings. And don't argue with me about this...three-year-olds hate to be wrong.

Post Traumatic Stress Disorder

I have it. I don't want it. When I was first told it was mine, I just assumed it was a nice way to say I'd experienced something out of the ordinary--duh! I had no idea that it was an actual illness that anyone can contract. It has symptoms and side-effects and people who have it often become addicted to drugs and alcohol to escape it. I was assigned to watch more than one video about addictions and how to live with them. I told my psychiatrist I didn't feel that would be helpful, since I don't drink or abuse drugs. He said addiction, in this case, refers to any behavior that is harmful, and cited cutting, anorexia, and compulsive exercise. I watched the videos.

I left the hospital with a list of assigned research projects. The one to which I'm supposed to give priority is learning more about PTSD. It doesn't make me happy. Apparently, because of this, I'll be in therapy for the rest of my life. Not once monthly type therapy, but intensive therapy for as long as it takes for me to learn how to cope with the ups and downs in healthy ways. But once I figure out how to be a real person and live, I'll still have to have checks every two to three years to be certain I'm coping healthily and not having flashbacks or uncontrollable nightmares. I'll be checked on my phobias and isolation tendencies, on my family and friend relationships, and outlook on life, in general.

I'm not sure how I feel about all this. For sure, things could be worse. The psychiatrist said that, given the extent and duration of the abuse I've endured, I'm pretty healthy and he said that's because I'm very strong. It makes me want to cry a little bit. I'm not sure why--gratitude? frustration? sorrow? Regardless, life goes on and I intend to enjoy it.

Last night I spent an hour jumping on a trampoline with my kids and their cousins. It beats the heck out of a night in the psyche ward.