Relapse – 123

Where have I been? Where am I going?

Things were getting better. Almost normal, it was nice…

Tense and time, they test me still – the burden is heavy this time.

Our trip to Japan had refreshed us for a year. 2016, the year of our renewal was short lived… After graduating from therapy on my own choice and moving forward with personal projects and events – I felt stronger. I was making choices for myself again.

We both were doing so well. I could almost forget about the fear of triggers or the waxing and waning of my chronic pain waves. I was falling into a new normal.

Slowly stress would creep up on me, slipping her fingers through the cracks and into my fears. My new position arrived on lipservice and lies – broken promises began to show their colours as I was denied a position I thought I earned. Only to have everything taken away from me, all I could do was watch as everything I worked for began to fall apart, there was nothing I could do because I had already lost my “power”.

Finally, as a last kick, I was denied full payment for my hard work. Work that stressed me to the point of breakdown. Payment I earned fairly, all while feeling like a failure, losing my grip on myself in the empty event parking lot- letting my friend and coworker hug me as I tried to hold on to what little strength in myself I had left.He was equally stressed and upset and there was nothing either of us could do to save it.

So I walked away. Months later… Knowing I may never see all the money they owe me. Knowing all my ideas and future projects probably meant nothing to them from the beginning.

One.

Knowing I may never bring anything I envisioned to light. I settled my heart, wanting nothing else except to find peace-  I did my best, I met people I love and care for. That was enough of an experience to push me forward despite the embarrassment.

It should have been. I should have kept moving forward despite the stress; because it was something I enjoying doing with friends I love, for the country and culture I love. It was just one stressful thing – I could jump the hurdle soon. I only need to push a bit more and be a bit more patient with everything…

Until the accident happened, and everything spiralled down out of control, again. Only this time there was no warning. Rear-ended and caught off guard. The noise of the accident, bumper on bumper – blacking out – it triggered me; but the whiplash, minor concussion had me in the hospital on a painful spinal board for hours. Later it would turn into severe back/shoulder/neck pain and constant headaches. I wasn’t broken yet…

Two.

What is “Chronic Pain”, again? Why couldn’t I just move forward in my life with the pain I already learned to live with, why did the accident have to make everything worse? How many more years of physical pain do I deserve? How horrible was my past life, how many more karma cycles must I endure the price?

Physiotherapy. Registered Massage Therapy. I’m told to get them both.

“You need time to heal.” Right? WRONG!

Instead, the ICBC Physio “Doctor” assigned to help me recover, assaulted me… he pulled down my pants to massage my bare ass… what part of my ass is healing the pain in my back/neck/head? How can a doctor in a position of authority and trust, try to see through my open hospital gown to my chest. Nothing felt right. Nothing feels right since. Is this what it feels like to break again?

Three.

How many more times must I be a victim? How many more years of emotional/psychological pain do I deserve? How many more times must I register for a therapy wait-list? How many more times must my PTSD triggers relapse? I wanted to be better, but instead, I’ve fallen 3 steps behind again. 3 blows to my healing soul, 0 protections against the darkness of my mind.

My body aches every day, I struggle to smile with such heavy thoughts drowning me out. Calling doctors offices give me anxiety now. I have panic attacks thinking about making appointments or getting on buses to get to those offices – I feel heavy and burdened.

I hate my life right now. But more than that… I hate myself.

私は引きこもりなりました…
体が痛いし、いろいろと重い考えとつらいよ。
ちゃんとがんばりたいなのに、最近元気ない、
何もできない。
やっぱり自分は嫌い、穴があったら入りたいよ。

もし自分はいないのに世界が続くのよ、でしょう?
私わ消えるがいいと思う

これらの言葉ですらいつか消えてしまいます

一 二 三

 

 

 

10 days

I’m 10 days away from flying back to Japan with the love of my life. 

Just two days ago I was still reeling from the high the mere thought of returning HOME gave me. 

So why am I depressed today?

Why do I feel like I can never go back? Like something will stop me in the end. Expecting the worst. 

And then there’s the fear. 

The fear of all the possible triggers I don’t even know I have, because I haven’t returned to Japan since the rape. The final month feels like a blur. What have I forgotten? What will I remember?

The fear of having a flashback or a meltdown while we are supposed to be having fun or in a public setting. Ruining special moments because my brain is out of control. 

The fear of seeing him would be the first thought to most minds- but that doesn’t scare me as much as the memories do. 

Is that weird?

I know my boyfriend can protect me from him physically, but he can’t stop a flashback – there is no safety in the depths of my mind. 

I’m tired of the nightmares and the crying. It’s exhausting not being able to sleep soundly. 

All I can do now is try to dream of Ikebukuro – my safe place – and hope my brain will eventually comply and bring back the high. 

10 days. 

Clear day

The fog has lifted a bit. Today was okay. Waking up sweaty coupled with bad thoughts throughout the day here and there still sucks, but overall today wasn’t bad.

Trying hard to focus on the positives in my life. It’s so hard. The pain and depression grips me so suddenly and tightly; I have absolutely no way of fighting it.

Finding a good day is half the battle.

Inner self hatred doesn’t help.

But then I think of my boyfriend, and the future we have together. I’m so excited to start my life with him, but neither of us, especially me, is anywhere near ready for that.

Patience in love has never been my strong suit. I crave love and affection from most people (I guess you could say that’s why I pursue a career in entertainment). I can’t stand when people stay mad at me, and it hurts when they just don’t care anymore. I can get paranoid about it in my dark moments. I don’t like letting go of people I love, even when the love is toxic or one-sided. My fatal flaw is so shallow.

Fear or being alone. Unloved. No friends. Forgotten. Oblivion.

But I already have the only love I will ever need, because he loves me back just as deeply, just as fiercely as I love him. It’s what my heart and mind needs the most. He’s my best friend. And I’m so lucky he’s mine. I know in my soul that he’s “The One”.

Sometimes I lose sight of that. He’s my soulmate but even that doesn’t save me from this disease. Depression doesn’t care that I found the love of my life. Depression doesn’t care that I should be happy as fuck! That’s not how this works.

But it’s nice to remind myself anyway.

Eating my feelings

Stuck. Anxious. Alone…
I’m not really alone, I’m never truly alone in the physical sense, but the feeling is ever present. Pressing on my fears.

Stuck. Can’t move forward. Don’t care to look back either. Just stuck in the minute by minute. Struggling to complete simple tasks, my brain feels trapped within itself.

Repeat. Haze. Wait.
But I don’t know what I’m waiting for. A phone call, a message, a sign… Where do I go from here? How do I change this rut? Am I going crazy? Will I ever be able to physically achieve my dreams? Anxiety builds and I’m frantic again.

It’s maddening.
I want to fix something I can’t explain or even know what needs fixing exactly. But it’s down right maddening.

In addition to this constant restlessness and chronic pain flares, I’ve been eating nonstop. I always feel hungry. Nearly 10lbs of stress munching and hormonal bloating.

Ridiculous. Truly.
It needs to stop. I feel even more heavy like this. It’s not healthy and it brings me more pain and depression when I look in the mirror.

I know I create beautiful images with photographers in the digital world of Photoshop defaults and ridiculous beauty standards. But here by myself in the real world, I’m rife with flaws and insecurities.

Glamour is fleeting.