I realised the other day, what a fucked up year its been for Me. By fucked up, I mean good and bad. Not all fucked up is bad 😉
I’ve been tired. Sick. Sick and tired. Generally worn down, and out. Its felt never ending. So, yesterday, I reassessed as I do:
Picked that shit to bits and went over it with a fine tooth comb.
Turns out, I should’ve done it earlier. Which kind of goes with my whole point to myself: That it’s been a funk … a tired monotonous fucked funk.
I was trying to remember when and where I had been feeling pretty content. Cos I know there was a time, quite recently, where it felt like shit was pretty good. Not ‘happy happy joy joy’ kinda good, but … ‘ahhh, I can do this’, kinda good.
It was before my sister died.
I know I had learnt how to calm my farm and breath deeply. I had learned how to manage myself when I went for my walks – and I was enjoying that. I know I had learned how to voice my concerns and not do what I didn’t want to do. I know I had learned when I was on the verge of a panic attack and how to bring myself down or stop it before it blew up. I know, I knew how to deal with shit, Immediately: and not put it on pause.
Pausing, does not agree with my constitution.
Then somewhere between my sister dying, which I handled pretty well, and just after my birthday … shit got worn down. I remember having two extremely unpleasant and surprising panic attacks. One was when I was talking to the ACC wankers on the phone and trying to walk to the shop. I knew when it happened I had fucked up something, but wasn’t too sure how to remedy it. Well I know now what I fucked up.
I lost control. Not just physically, resulting in the panic attack … but the entire situation from the get go.
I let them control my situation. I felt beholden to their times, their phone calls, their delays … because I needed the assessment (or so I thought), and I needed the extra money (or so I thought). So I Let Them metaphorically, bend Me over and fuck Me up the asshole. I did what I knew I shouldn’t: and shouldn’t, because the long term effects are violent.
The other big ass, take it’s time, panic fuck, was prior to the assessment. I was already fucked. Fucked because of the waiting. Me and waiting also don’t really do well in cohabitation.
And from the phone panic attack till the assessment panic fuck, I had days of shaking, headaches, stomach aches, dizziness, anxiety and panic .. I took more anti anxiety meds during that time than I had in the previous year. I couldn’t breath properly and the sleeping was fitful, again, and full of shit nightmares and waking flashbacks.
But somehow, I just managed … and denied the obvious. That I was crumbling.
Add to all this, my father and his ‘way’. He has unceremoniously fucked with my world in the last year. And I’ve written a shit tonne on him.
But what has dawned on Me, with regards to him, is the hurt that comes with knowing that my father does not love Me. Does not understand Me. Is unwilling to know who I am.
His interest in Me was only as a replacement for my sister. He wanted Me to be like her. But I can’t do that.
It did make Me realise too though, that there are not many that know Me, and my ‘support’ is little to none. Not because it’s not offered but because the offer-ees really don’t get Me and I frustrate them.
It is easier to try on my own. Except when I get worn down.
I’m going to have to start from the beginning again, because I have gotten to the place I was at a couple years ago … where leaving the house is hard. It’s not as bad as it was, but I can feel myself heading there pretty rapidly.
So in my reassessment, my daily goals have been simplified and adjusted. I need to do only what I want to do from here on in; at least until I can gain some momentum. Because theres a huge difference, for Me, between Not wanting to do some thing; being forced to do something and wanting to do something but being afraid.
Much to my disgust, I’ve started taking my anti anxiety meds to take the edge off. I’ll be utilising them more to actually get Me out of the house and past the letter box. I tried it tonight, so I could get down to the beach.
I love the beach.
After taking 1/4 anti anxiety med I was still nervous and shaky. I did the headphones and music; took water and extra meds, and my walking stick and camera.
I’ve missed the beach, and the sunset. I’ve missed going alone.
I got there tonight; slightly wobbly and hazed, but in one piece.
And I smiled my ass off once my nerves subsided. I even talked to a newly married couple that were from South America.
So Slow and Steady is what I’m returning too.