Thunder Crying and Egg Face

Oh you know just a little cure for weakness

Therapy has been going well but I ended up pushing it too hard. I had it in my head that I'd hurry up and get all the bad out of me. I guess the hope was that once the bad was out I'd feel better. Turns out that hyper speeding through therapy is actually damaging. Who knew?

Friday I had therapy again. This was the first session I had that my body actually cried when I slumped onto the couch in exhaustion. I didn't think that hour would come the week before. There are moments where I feel like I won't make it. My trauma brain says I'll probably die. Friday comes and I don't die.

After therapy I came home and experienced the most raw intense cry I've ever had. It was slightly similar to The vicious circle of crying. The weight of this trauma was on me and I was so heavy. The moment I stopped to pick up Husby from the lacrosse field, I lost it. Right there in the car. I started pre-crying. That's when I turned on the worship music full blast. I sang that cry right back into me until home. I ran right through the house WITH MY SHOES ON. I ran past the living room, down the hallway, over to the bed, and I fell flat onto the bed. My soul opened up and the demon of cry came barreling out of me. I was like a child. Eyes shut, crocodile tears poored out of me, head back, mouth opened in contortion. All I could do was cry. Husby helped the best he could given the situation he had earlier in the week with root canals and infections. Usually I would stuff all this trauma back in me some how but not on Friday. Husby took my shoes off, got my socks off, helped me out of my clothes. All I could do was stand there lifting whatever body part needed to be clothed. He put me in his giant college sweatshirt and sweatpants. I needed juice. He put me on the couch and made fresh guava juice. All trauma wanted to tell me was that I didn't deserve his niceties. FUCK YOU TRAUMA. I cried harder.

Over the weekend I got the flu. Woke up today. Mondays. I hate 'em. Sunday night I started my relaxation rituals early. They usually start at 8pm and then sleep at 9. I started at 6. I don't know why but I couldn't stop the tension and ended up with a mini migraine. Trauma brain was in full force telling me all the horrible things about myself life how I'm fat, ugly, probably messed up at work on Thursday so I'll get yelled at first thing in the morning. I put my feet in a bucket of hot water and calming salts. Secretly put tequila in my tea. It's not until this coming Friday I get to try anxiety medications.
Sleep never goes well and this night was particularly awful. Awake at every hour. Woke up looked over 3am. slept. woke up. looked over... 4am. EVERY HOUR. The more I looked at the clock the more anxious I became worried I wouldn't sleep enough. I started mildly dreaming of not getting enough sleep and over sleeping. Woke up an hour and half later than I usually do for work. I put on wrinkled scrubs. For some reason I was covered in sweat. I thought it was my anxiety level. Got to work and took my temperature. 102. FUCK. Tylenol. Temperature again 4 hours later 99.6. Got sent home. I'm glad I pawned my old ex's jewelry for cold and flu medication.

Husby update: He woke up this morning when I was running out the door and says to me,

"baby...?? "Is it normal to have schewwling"

"Uh, no? let me see"

Husby comes through the light like a hunchback of Notre dam all ogre looking and slumpy. His eye, nose, and upper lip looked like someone put an egg in his face.

"Nope, not normal. I'm late. Call the Dr."

Psalm 107:9-21
Then they cried to the Lord in their trouble, and he saved them from their distress; he sent out his word and healed them, and delivered them from destruction. Let them thank the Lord for his steadfast love, for his wonderful works to humankind.

The Ink Jacket Massacre

" Now can I drink heavily and cry myself to sleep?"

Truama brain I am thoroughly fed up. Why you gotta be so mean to me? Seriously thinking about removing you and the more I try to the harder you hold onto me.

Today was a great day. I had the morning off. I went to work. I did a great job at work staying connected. You did a good job at not making me panic and dissociated. I spent the day aware of myself in my enviroment. Congratulations us! So what did I do to celebrate? I got us Water For Elephants I heard it was great and sad needed some time for himself instead of spending all of our time with trauma. To make it even better the movie box had Horrible Bosses as well. Two movies in hand I drove us all home. It was laid on my heart while driving that we had 25lbs of turkey that I cooked over the weekend just sitting in the fridge. It also occured to me that we haven't yet met our neighbors. The Lord nudged me to go over there. I NEVER DO THIS. I WOULD NEVER DO THIS. Why would I ever in my trauma mind think of going to meet someone I've never met before, alone, at night, after work, in my scrubs, AT NIGHT. Gasp* I already said at night this was just to reiterate the fact that it is fucking DARK. I knocked, a 3 foot tall girl answered the door with a green lolly pop in her mouth. She was missing her front teeth. Harmless.

"Is mom or dad home?"

From the kitchen I hear,

"Dad's home who is it?"

I said,

"Um your neighbor to the left".

I kind of sort of chucked the hunk of turkey at him and said we have a lot and I thought we could share. Then, I sort of ran away. He hollered that maybe we should all get together for dinner. He had a black hoodie with soap and water on his hands from doing dishes. He was heavily tattooed from wrist to who knows where. I got inside the safety of my own home. Popped in Water For Elephants and low and behold it said, "NO DISC". I blew on it old school Nintendo 64 style. "NO DISC" ARGGG I tried and tried. Then, I picked up my phone to call my Husby who fixes things sometimes. I noticed a text message on my cell. It was from the Boss lady.

"Who used pink sticky notes today?"

I am one for telling the truth always even if it means I get in trouble. Why? Because God is watching us. I wrote back, "Me, What's up?"

Then, Trauma brain woke up. Panic. Chaos. Panic. The thoughts began. Trauma started slowly but violently.

"You stupid fuck you know they've had problems with items going through the wash"
No trauma I checked my pockets. "
Not good enough obviously you suck".
No I checked, besides the machine is still tore up because of the pen incident which wasn't my fault.
"Totally was your fault".
No it wasn't truama I didn't do the laundry that day.
"Yeah you put them in the dryer though".
So, that doesn't mean anything.
"Does to, you ruined everything."
How does this having anything to do with sticky notes?
"You must have done something horrible they are texting an hour after work"
Shit, where did I put them all? I threw that one away...um I left one for the other assistant...I swear I have a record of every last sticky note and where it ended up.
"You aren't good enough you can't remember"
Yes I can, I did put them on the table at the end of the day by the phone maybe they dislike them there?
"Maybe your sorry ass got confused and side tracked and you put them in the wash"
Fuck. Maybe I did. How am I supposed to know?
"They are taking their time texting you back because they are furious with you"

I got a reply text message after my trauma had stiffled my ability to figure out a way to watch this movie that was supposed to be a treat to myself for doing a good job today.

The text reads:

"pink sticky notes, two pens, and Rebecca's name tag were put into the laundry while ***** was literally completing the $300 ink repair on the dryer(including jacket orders)"

I wrote back some stupid response. One, because I'm functioning in trauma brain mode and this is all I could come up with through the tears.

"Seriously? Dang, I swore I checked. Thank goodness we didn't start the laundry without checking."

My sane mind is telling me that I made a mistake by putting my lab jacket in the hamper without checking my pockets. The second thing my sane mind is telling me, is the protocol is to check the pockets while you are putting them in the wash. When I do laundry, I pull all sorts of things out from pockets. I even pulled a pen from *gasp Dr's jackets before. Do I say anything, NO. HELL NO. I just make it right and wash the laundry. Dr. is angry because someone made a mistake and ended up with a big mess. #1 I know we didn't buy a new dryer. #2 we cleaned out the dryer. #3 we had someone related to the Dr. come in for FREE to open it up and fix it. During the fixing time there was a strange man in the break room. My trauma and I don't do well with a new strange men appearing suddenly blocking my path to do what I routinely do. My routine was busted up and I couldn't remember where I put my shit. Apparently I freaked out and tossed it all in the laundry. Low and behold NOW I'm getting ripped a new one via text message.

Truama brain says I'm going to get fired for damn sure. However, sane mind tells me that nothing bad happened and especially nothing will happen because we will all check our coats now. I can see why she is angry but there was a lot of angry there that shouldn't have been at me. Why are they doing laundry anyways? I thought that was below them? "That's an assistant's job" is usually said at these moments.

Anyways, my evening is fucked and I don't think I'll find sleep tonight. I'm feeling very drawn to drinking the rest of my Christmas vodka and taking a long bath of tears.

I sent one last text message:

"I'm sorry I was lax on my removing items. I know the damage and stress involved in the pen incident and don't mean to create more of that for you."

Sometimes I wish I wasn't okay to be in society and I did spend my life huddled up in a black hole of disrepair and self loathing. Drat. I'm still here. I still have a job, I still have a DVD player telling me I can't watch my treat. My Husby isn't here yet. These are not happy moments to be alone.

PS: I got written up official style and everyone in the office now has to have their very own sticky pad color. My pen now has a label maker name on it. The write up said "If it weren't for ____ standing at the washer you would have just thrown in your jacket with all these items in it." Right like you can predict the future!?