I can't even... I just can't. I'm done. So very, very done.

I didn't sleep last night. (I should be trying to sleep now, but the pain is hammering away at me and I'm thoroughly distracted by it.) I was definitely at a 10 on the traditional pain scale, and having a full body twitching episode to boot. C held me while I cried. Well, ok, I dozed some eventually... but I kept waking myself up with cries and moans of pain and alarm. My PTSD symptoms have been escalating gradually over the past few days, and I'm not sure why. They've been interrupting my sleep, and last night was particularly bad. I've been anxious, too... jumpy. Whatever.

Anyway, I wasn't able to drive because I couldn't lift my arms or turn from side to side, but a friend picked me up and took me to my doctor's appointment. While there, the endocrinologist proceeded to exclaim over how I've gained 17 lbs in the past 3 months.

Great. Thanks, doc. I knew I'd been gaining weight, and I'm trying to eat healthy so as not to gain unnecessarily, but I'm pretty much in enforced sedentary mode, here. Not to mention that the Lyrica made me gain some weight, and I never lost the weight I put on from eating all those damn cookies (oh, those delicious cookies!)...

So anyway, I went in feeling crappy and exhausted and miserable and in pain and came out feeling even worse about myself.

I'm so done.

I'm sinking lower and lower into the pit of depression that I recognize oh-so-well... and I feel like I'm too weak to even try to pull myself out, or slow my descent at all. If anything, I welcome the abyss. It's familiar and painful and maybe this inner pain and shredding self-hatred will distract me from the physical pain that is leaching the color from my life and the life from my soul.

Playground school bell rings again
Rain clouds come to play again
Has no one told you she's not breathing?
Hello, I am your mind giving you someone to talk to
Hello

If I smile and don't believe
Soon I know I'll wake from this dream
Don't try to fix me, I'm not broken
Hello, I'm the lie living for you so you can hide
Don't cry

Suddenly I know I'm not sleeping
Hello, I'm still here
All that's left of yesterday

It's been a busy few days. I've been working quite a lot (for me, anyway). Wednesday was regular work, but I was flaring very badly due to medication changes, and I was thoroughly exhausted by the time I got home. On Thursday, I attended a training on working with domestic violence and childhood sexual assault survivors, particularly pregnant and postpartum survivors. It was really good, and actually led to some epiphanies for my own self, but I'll wait until I have a copy of the presentation to go over those, so that I can make sure that I actually get the specifics down. My brain fog has been so bad lately, I end up stumbling around in vagaries when I try to tell C about my day.

Thursday evening was the Homicide Remembrance Vigil, and I worked the welcome table for that. I've experienced many kinds of loss in my life, but never the loss of a loved one due to homicide. Judging by the talks I heard and the faces of the participants, I can only imagine that it is excruciating.

Yesterday, I met with one of the victim advocates/therapists for the Marine base here in town, as I'll be speaking to a gathering of the commanding officers next month to kick of Domestic Violence Awareness Month. The meeting was good, but I had to work on my talk and come up with the pictures I was going to use so that I could email them to her ASAP, so I did that in the evening. The combination of the past few days of training and vigils and exploring my own story again triggered my PTSD, unsurprisingly. I didn't expect it, though, and it caught me off guard. I became increasingly distressed as the night wore on, but I was able to use some of the coping mechanisms that we teach the girls in group to maintain my grip on reality. That's not to say that I didn't do some crying and freaking out, because I mean, who am I trying to kid? But I didn't go into full scale meltdown, which is serious progress. I'm damn proud of myself.

Juneaux seems to sense when I'm in great distress, either physically or emotionally/mentally, and he acts accordingly. He followed me into the bedroom last night when I finally settled down to try to rest and cuddled right up next to me, purring loudly and pressing his warmth up against my side. It relaxed and comforted me enough that I was able to drift off to sleep several times, though I did wake up gasping in sheer panic and terror when C opened the bedroom door to come to bed. I could not stay asleep, though, even with the security of C's solid presence next to me, and I woke myself up several times by tossing, flailing, mumbling, crying out, and even once with singing! Finally I removed myself to the couch about 5 am so that C could rest undisturbed, as he is pulling a 12 hour shift tonight. Out on the couch, Juneaux curled up with me again, and I was able to sleep for a few hours uninterrupted by anything but crazy dreams.

So today I still feel in a funk of sorts, but I know what's going on, and I'm just going to go about my daily business and not freak out about freaking out. I mean, considering what I'm up against, this is a totally normal response. I tell other people that all the time, and I know the same applies to me. It is heartening to see how much progress I've made, too. I wish I could just never have to deal with the junky trauma ever again, but I know that's not how this process works. I'll always have to deal with my past in some ways or another... but I can certainly do it in healthy ways. Even if I do feel weirded out and on edge. By continuing on with my life, I deny G any power that he thought to exercise over me. I am bigger than him, I am stronger than anything he could ever do to me, and I have won. I may still feel funny, but I have won, and I think that's worth a lot.