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And somehow I’m back here

August 23, 2014

It’s been years since I’ve written on this blog. Consequently, I’m fairly positive that nobody reads it anymore. And that’s okay. I don’t need anyone to read this. I really don’t. I just need a place to release my head before I explode. I don’t want to write it in a journal, I don’t want to type it in a word document. I don’t want it anywhere where my fiance or anyone could find it and tie it to me. I just want it out, but I want it private. And this is the only space I have.

I am struggling. OCD has reared its head, probably the strongest that it has in over a year. Oh, I’ve had anxiety, panic, tough times. But this is really really fucking hard. And scary.

Thoughts and beliefs I haven’t had in years are back. I am afraid, I am panicking, I’m not sleeping well, I’m needing to take some meds to get through the day, I’m crying, I’m yelling, I’m arguing. I feel crazy. And that’s possibly the worst part.

I have spent a lot of time this summer with a new friend, a coworker that I have gotten extremely close to. Because we share a lot of the trauma memories. We have a lot of the same past experiences. I’ve never had anyone in my life who gets it the way she does. So we’ve spent a lot of the summer talking. It started as me listening to her, because she had never, in 40 years, spoken honestly and candidly about the horrors she endured. But it ended with me sharing, too. And now it’s a dialogue. And things are coming up for me that I haven’t really thought about in years. I was naive. I thought I was past it, over it. But I guess I wasn’t. I guess I dealt with it years ago when I needed to, but I now need to deal with it again. I told her things that I have never told a single soul, used specific words and phrases that I have never written, let alone said.

And it’s been so helpful and wonderful. And also very anxiety-provoking. And as I should know by now (blah stupid compassion nope not now) when anxiety rears its head, it’s a perfect time for OCD to swoop in without me realizing it. And grab hold before I even realize its presence.

My thoughts and fears right now are mostly in the “realistic” category. That is, I’m not worrying (today) about being a racist, or a murderer. I’m only slightly worrying about being a sexual deviant. I’m more spinning, tangling, obsessing about my fiance leaving me. About my new friend leaving me. I told her about OCD, I was candid about my thoughts and spins. And she assured me she doesn’t think I’m crazy. And I do believe her. But I also don’t. And I’m also scared. Because even though it was years ago, so many fucking people have said that they would be there and then they weren’t, and I’m afraid. I’m afraid she thinks I’m a burden. I’m afraid my fiance is going to decide I’m not worth it. I’ve spun to him, cried to him, I cried so hard Thursday night to him, after such a shitty day, that I was dry-heaving. He told me to breathe, he hugged me. But all the while I just thought, This is reinforcing to him how crazy I am. I wanted to self-harm that night. I haven’t done that in years. I didn’t do it. But I wanted to. I really felt crazy.

I want to check, to text every single friend I have and apologize for being a burden, apologize for reaching out too much and talking too much. I want to ask them over and over again if they’re upset with me, and never stop asking because when I stop asking, the fear just grows back. I want to get down on my knees and beg my fiance to not leave. Beg my friends to not leave. Tell them over and over again that I’m not crazy. Although just by saying that, they will think I’m crazy. I can’t win.

I’m struggling with sex. It is hard for me to even write that. It’s been in my brain for a while, knowing it, but I haven’t spoken about it. Because if I speak about it, what if it means that I don’t love my fiance? That there’s something wrong with me, that I’m a lesbian, that I’m attracted to someone else, that my traumatic experiences fucked me up more than I realized? That he would deserve better, that he should leave? So I’ve ignored it, pretended it’s fine. But with everything going on, I need to talk about it. I need to. But I don’t think I have anyone I can talk to about it. Well, that’s not true. But I can’t talk about it to those people without worrying they’re going to think those same thoughts. So I either hold it in and explode or talk and then spin and spin and explode.

I felt crazy driving today. I was afraid of hitting something.

I’ve had the urge to check the apartment locks a million times.

I really am trying. I am I am I am. I’m stretching and going to yoga and talking with my friend when I can and coloring and sleeping. I’m trying to be gentle with myself and trying to breathe.

But I’m still scared, I’m still tangled, I’m still spinny, I’m still terrified.

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