Usually this time of the year I start to think about what I want to do over the summer. It usually consists of the pool, bowling, with some job coaching I’m going to struggle with it, after what happened last year, Jenny, going to a mental hospital, and Pooh’s regression. I can’t stay focused and crying seems easier.
The whole situation has changed me in some way. I find myself more withdrawn; Getting through obstacles, I second guess myself as a parent if I’ve even done the right thing. I feel I have failed Pooh and Jenny both, not finding those answers to protect them, so it doesn’t happen again.
I feel myself reading to much into things at my job and home. When there was a day, I didn’t care what others thought of me. Any yelling of any kind puts me in combat mode. I have to put my coping skills to good use to prevent from hiding.
I’ve been thinking too much about my domestic violence days. My accuser was gone years ago, so there is no threat, so I’m confused why. Even my nightmares are starting to get a little out of hand. I feel a little sideswiped like something has just knocked me off course.
Then that’s when it happened; I went to work with significant back pain. Along with fighting with mental pain, it must have been too much to handle. I remember calling the doctor about my back and leaving early to go; even my conversation with my boss making sure I was okay to drive. But honestly, it was a blur how I got there.
My chiropractor knew there was more going on than what I told him. He aligned my back, and gave me a note to excuse me for three days and said, “That should be enough time to rest and get some additional help, you think?” All I could do was nod my head, and cry. I left knowing I wasn’t doing myself or the kids any good, so I swallowed my pride and started looking up physiatrists who could see me.
My first appointment was a little painful, that was the first time I felt very exposed about my whole life, regardless, I agreed I was long overdue for help. The intake counselor didn’t even look at me twice when I had two requests, I said no medicine, and I bring my son. I felt I needed Pooh there for support. That smile of his that gets me through anything.
After a few appointments, we are looking at Complex PTSD, with anxiety attacks. It seems everything has taken a toll on me and uprooted past trauma. That’s my warning sign; It’s time to stop and take care of me.