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.


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…


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?


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.




一 二 三




“Freeing yourself”

Authors Note; the site got a bit of a facelift with widgets and the like… I hope it’s slightly less depressing to look at XD

Nothing but silence since the face off…

No admission or confession, no denial or excuses, no pleading vehemently that I’ve got it all wrong. Nothing.


It’s a weird feeling. A bit surreal, a bit reassuring? Not sure what I expected to happen, but I suppose silent cowardice really isn’t that surprising in hindsight.

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Reality slapped me across the face this morning.

Today an old friend I really needed to hear from, reached out to me (thanks wifey). But then so did the man who love swindled me…

Talk about ultimate high to the lowest low. Mood crashed hard.

Just simply – “what’s up?” In a very impersonal and informal text. Instant panic attack and urge to puke from adrenaline rush. Puking from the outright betrayal or anxiety? I’m not what it was, but just one look at his picture and I felt so sick. I know my suffering won’t end anytime soon. So I puked. I was angry and them I felt helplessly sad.

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Writing the panic out

It feels like a hand is clenching my heart and twisting me from the inside out. My chest is tight, I feel trapped in my own lungs. It hurts but I can seem to pinpoint why anymore. Maybe it’s anger, but the fear and the dread is louder. The painful lump in my throat won’t go down, no matter how many times I try to swallow it. The panic claws at my body. It wants to devour me.
Smoke it out.
Drug it down.
This never lasts though. It cycles, coming and going as it pleases. Each time feeling as painful as the last. It never eases or dulls. The pain is always the same.
But still I fight it. I have to. I don’t want to hide anymore. And above all, I don’t want to be a burden to those I love. It hurts, but I will face it.
I want to breathe again.