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




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.

“You are not alone”

Been having horrible nightmares this week, mostly I’m running away from people who want to hurt or kill me (usually men I don’t been know).
Eventually I dreamt of /him/. He wasn’t chasing me, instead he was complaining loudly about how horrible I treated him…

I woke up crying and mad (I think the first shred of fleeting anger towards my rapist). I should be the one complaining loudly! But I can’t! Here I am, suffering from anxiety and stress-induced chronic pain every fucking day, and he prob doesn’t even know he raped me.

How sick is that?

When can I scream? When can I find my lost voice? Just telling an additional three people about the rape feels very scary.

I don’t want to burden people with such heavy emotions and vulgar images, but I honestly don’t even know who wants to help me.

I’m reaching out to old friends, nostalgia and love soothes the anxiety. I find comfort with people I feel safe around, but maybe that’s too selfish of me? I mean, everyone has their own life, their own stress, their own problems- I begin to feel selfish for dumping my heaviest problems on them too.

I know rape is not an easy thing to talk about. There isn’t much a person can say or do to make either of us feel better about it; after all, nothing changes the past. But I’ve begun to realize when I surround myself with people who can make me laugh and forget about the pain, I finally feel free. I guess that means I can only feel peace when I’m not alone.

It’s sad.

Monday is the start of therapy. I’m not sure where this journey will lead or how long the healing process will take me, but I am committed to facing these fears and facing myself.