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i faced my nemesis’.

these cunts …

And when I say ‘faced’, I mean that literally.

Yesterday had its cunty moments, the least of all being a 7.5 panic attack. Brought on by the impending arrival of roadworks on our doorstep.

In hindsight, I lost my shit cos the buildup to the ‘event’ was rapid and the circumstances that changed as all this impend-a-ment was happening, was also rapid … and was what I imagine a swift kick in the nuts would feel like.

By 1030-11 I was hyperventilating and crying and then sobbing (yah know that ugly fucken sobbing … with snot and incoherence …), walking round in circles trying to find my drugs that I had put away cos I had thought  … “I got this … don’t need those”.

I found the drugs. Continued to hyperventilate and snot everywhere … all the while, literally saying to myself … ‘it’s just a digger … it’s just road works …’.

But I’d lost it lol.

Soooooo

I rang my Mama <3

It occurred to Me a little while back that while my resources are limited – ok, fucken limited – I do have some. My Mama is one who is on my side.

I rang in tears lol and told her what was happening and asked if I could just talk for abit … she was willing to pick Me up if I needed it … but I wanted to Be Brave. Lol. As fucken ridiculous as it sounds; and if you’ve never experienced anxiety on any level let alone pts(d) on a cunty level … Being Brave means a little something different than those who idiots who chose to jump outta plans with parachutes on lol.

This is a different kind of Brave.

So I snotted some more and cried down the phone at my Mama and when I hung up I decided to go check the status of the digger cunt.

They were one house away.

I was feeling braver than I had prior to my convo with Mama, so struck upon a new strategy.

I parked myself on my bed, which faces squarely out the front window onto the road. I opened up my computer and my blog and started finding the posts that made Me feel good … the encouraging ones … the ones where I had tried, failed, succeeded, and tried it all over again. And they all made Me smile.

And as the diggers rolled to our house, the house started shaking abit, but not too badly. The roadworks crew piss assed around and peered through the window at Me staring at them.

They looked awkward as fuck! LOL. And the whole scene made Me laugh out loud.

I felt like some kind of stalker watching them doing their thing … but I also could See the progress, or lack, and could figure out how long they were going to take.

The unknown is the bitch that gets Me and the thing that heightens the anxiety and panic. The noise and shaking sets off the pts(d). Watching them and their work unfold, surprisingly made it bearable. And it was funny as fuck watching them be all awkward and shit!

Soooo … I faced My Fears.

I felt scared but Brave. Not enough for a medal yet, but pretty close ;)

Love and light and fluffy bunnies too Me!

xx


 

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to wait or not to wait

from pts(d) expression series #53: Dec 11, 2016 @ 08:04

#throwback Nov 11, 2015 @ 20:16

Interesting re-read indeed. What I like about this re-reading shit (and yes I’ve said this before …) is realising how far I’ve come … what’s changed … what still needs tweaking …

I guess it’s in my nature to learn the ‘hard way’ … but I’ve also found it’s my bestest way to learn. The victories are mine just as much as the defeats were ;)


Part of, actually a large part of, the anxiety that precedes a panic attack and relates heavily to my state of ptsd-ness, at present…is waiting.

I hate waiting. I hate waiting in line…physically or on the phone… I hate appointments and meetings…deadlines. I hate…I just hate waiting.

Anyway…as I was pontificating today, as I do…a little veil lifted slightly and I got a peek at my insides. Not always a welcoming feeling, having some sort of realisation about yourself that inevitably sucks ass. But anyway…as I caught a glimpse, my pulse started racing and a felt a sense of dread…a familiar sense of dread…cascade down my rather un-sturdy spine. Yes, I’ve turned into somewhat of a pansy in recent years…and before anyone goes all “there’s nothing wrong with weakness” on me…just let me say…I agree with that, I just don’t like it when I’m talking about my vulnerability.

So what did I see?

I saw me…waiting…

Waiting…waiting to be picked up…waiting for the door to open…waiting for a loud voice to shout ‘leave her alone’…waiting for courtesy…waiting for kindness…waiting for them to listen…waiting for them to arrive…waiting for the present he promised…waiting for my name to be called…waiting for the bus to come…waiting for morning…waiting for tomorrow…waiting for the questions…waiting for the answers…waiting for the reasons…waiting for the money…waiting for the ride…waiting for the next time…waiting for the choke…waiting for the dark…waiting for the screaming to stop…waiting for the screaming to start…waiting for the wind to blow my way…waiting for sincerity…waiting….waiting…waiting….

And I know what’s coming…and when its coming…

Nothing and never.

But I still wait.

And with that waiting comes anxiety…and with that anxiety comes dread. Then dread and anxiety…and then panic. Panic to be waiting…but also panic that I’m waiting for nothing. That there is nothing to wait for. If something bad doesn’t happen, then I’ve waited for absolutely nothing.

So I stop waiting, would be the logical thing to do to fix that state of affairs right.

But if I’m not waiting…what if I miss it?

And if I miss it…what will I do?

Who will I be?

Who will I be if I’m not waiting?

And if there really is nothing to wait for, then I’d have to say I’ve wasted my time waiting…for nothing.


 

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photo taken: Jul 27, 2015 @ 11:47

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taken: Sep 28, 2015

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