Welp, I’ve made it to the end of day two substance free. It has crazy blown my mind how quickly the constant urge to drink has returned. Conflict? Have a drink. Stressed? Have a drink. Angry? Have a drink. Overwhelmed? Yep…just have a drink. I’d forgotten after all these years just how difficult it is to battle that urge. I’m certainly trying though, and hopefully it’s said and done. Time to buck up and feel all the feelings.
Today has been…strange. It’s been challenging, long, busy, emotionally overwhelming…but it’s also been fine, productive, reflective. It feels like I’m all over the place and every moment is it’s own. Like there is no cohesive picture to capture my day.
Met with my therapist today. I am completely overwhelmed by all of the feelings, the memories, the reactions. It feels like getting constantly knocked over by wave after wave…unable to find my footing and catch my breath. I feel like I’m floundering, fighting to just try to get a grip…to find some sort of stability. And yet every time I think I’m coming out the other side of it all, I get knocked over with another wave of anxiety, fear, self-hate. It is so fucking exhausting. Like, my entire body is tired. I’ve had a constant headache for four days that reaches down into my neck and shoulders. My glutes are sore because who knew I clenched my ass when I get anxious?? That’s fucking weird and I woke up this morning wondering why my ass was so sore. But I just feel like I can’t. Like things are too hard, too heavy, and I’m too tired to try. I don’t want to try, I just want to stop feeling everything. Working on things seems so impossible.
Earlier today, my therapist asked me about my feelings about having my hubs read my journal entries…and the thought of it makes me want to vomit. It makes me so uncomfortable and feels so yucky…it actually physically hurts to think about sharing it with him, my family, anyone who knows me.
5/22/2020 11:27 AM
Aannnndddd…I’m back. So yucky (really clinical…I know). I’ve been thinking a lot about why…why does it feel so horrible to share my innermost thoughts, feelings, experiences with those are closest to me? And I don’t know. I suppose there are a lot of reasons…probably reasons I’m not even aware of. The crazy thing is, ask me to stand up in front of a group of strangers…ask me to write it out in a blog…you got it. I can tell my story, share my feelings, my experiences, even my fears with complete strangers.
But I have worked very hard to become the person I am today. The person who is solid in crisis situations…who has a bazillion layers of sarcasm and toughness. That’s what I do…and I don’t really know why. I think back on some of the most difficult moments for me, moments where I was given every opportunity to break down, have feelings, be vulnerable…and yet I wasn’t. I didn’t.
I think about when my son was in the NICU and I got news from the doctor that they discovered a brain bleed. I mean, you know it’s serious when they clear the room, close the curtain and have you talk with the doctor one on one. And all I could manage to do was be strong…express understanding, that we’d get through whatever happened. And leaving the room, waking to the bathroom and completely falling apart…alone. It would’ve been understandable, accepted, and even expected for me to cry, mourn, be upset in that moment. And yet I couldn’t.
I think about the times I was hospitalized…moments where I was clearly at my very lowest low. And moments where I should’ve been able to express the deepest feelings I was having…that it was the hardest times of my life. And instead I worked on homework. I engaged in clinical discussions with the staff. I avoided, deflected, and covered up all the shit that was happening inside. And they expected the shit to come out!
Somewhere along the way, it became ingrained in me that I just need to buck up and be strong. Maybe it stems from coming from a military family. But feelings…weakness…tears…there is no place for those things. At least that’s how it feels.