Sunday, December 11, 2011

Not this again...

The time is 3:35am. It's cold. It's December. The only way I travel around the house is by the glow of Christmas lights hanging on our house. Last night was a rare event. Husby and I drank adult eggnog and bourbon while watching several classy Christmas movies to drink to. I fell asleep in his lap around 9pm. He had a comforting sort of delirium about him. I got plenty of bourbon kisses and he woke me up to help me get to bed. I was sleeping just fine. My dreams weren't sticking, I wasn't completely wasted, our room is very comfortable, and Husby was especially cuddly. For some fucked up reason however, I am sitting here wide eyed and anxious.

Glass of water in hand.

My mind is having a hard time compartmentalizing lately. Events in my life have large impacts on my brain. The smaller the even the more I feel I can't figure out how to cope. Example: I had an argument with Husby and went to work kind of sad and red eyed. I was emotionally distracted because I didn't know how to put that feeling into me and lock it up. A coworker of mine asked me about myself, how I was doing, etc. I spilled that we had had a rough morning and I'm feeling like a doormat. My coworker exclaimed that indeed I was a huge doormat with no self esteem. Later she gave me advice/counseling about how I need to work on developing more as to not be a wet blanket. I just stared at her because again, I don't know how to handle that sort of thing especially from someone at work. That night I wrote a text message to her letting her know it was nice she was thinking about me and was nice and friendly to offer advice. I'm struggling in that area so her advice didn't really work out for me in that particular situation.

Then, I busted up my hand at work that same day. Work told me to take a week off because of it being a workplace injury they didn't want a liability around until my hand healed. I'm having a hard time with being asked how my hand is doing. When I say I'm OK to come back, work says no, not yet.

Online I read this coworkers status who gave me the advice that states:
you must be mistaking me with someone who cares. Buck up, quit cryin and face life's challenges with less whining and get on with it. And you mothers out there, keep doin what you're doin. We get peed on, puked on, drooled on and cried on, and we keep doin it daily and don't complain

#1 isn't that complaining? #2 is this about me? #3 usually when I have to ask is this about me it's usually not and I understand that. My TRAUMA brain however, seems to think everything is danger especially making people upset. This particular person has not talked to me, not responded to anything I've said to her. Prior to the incident she offered to buy me and my Husby dinner out. She has offered for us to come over for dinner. I want to say she is dealing with something and it's seriously not that I came to work over a week ago sad. Trauma says otherwise. He says, "She hates you, clearly she wrote her status update after your text about the advice. Why should she care about you? There's no one that cares and you put burden on them with your problems so really girl you need to stop sharing with people."

I hate Trauma. He just likes to stress me out. Especially at this crazy stupid early hour of the morning when I'm trying to compartmentalize and SLEEP!

Other news: I made a pot call to my connection and didn't get any. I am reevaluating that idea of smoke pot and your life will become better. My life is pretty far from pot solving all my issues. I couldn't sleep because I started this roller coaster ride of all my issues. Trauma is super helpful at pointing it all out to me. He sometimes even remembers the darkest corners of repression that gets my nausea going. Which brings me to the present moment where I felt so sick I had to get up and wander around the house with a glass of water.

NOTE TO SELF: It's fucking scary as shit when you're on the verge of a complete flashback marathon, to walk ALONE through a dimly lit house, naked, safe for a giant blanket that sneakily knocks things over!

1 almost heart attack later, sleep is still not coming back to me. I have this sense of deep pain in my chest like the sad is stuck in there but there's not a way to let it out. To better explain and picture what happens to me I prefer to give Sad and Trauma human characteristics. They are kind of best friends because Trauma forced sad to tag along with him. Sad is stuck inside of me and usually cries

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