Pardon me but…

Fuck this.

I’m sorry, a little harsh?

I’ve been having a hell of a go at it (Here is where Matilda says “you’re alwaayysss having a hell of a go at it”). But, honestly, losing our dog threw me off course. Tremendously. I was already sliding in a downward motion because… Bi-Polar. Losing My Moose just greased the slide. From then on out it seems like everything and ANYthing has poked me. Rage electrifying my body from the inside out, panic attacks just about daily to remind me “hehehe oh hey don’t forget you have a whole Panic Disorder” on and just the utmost chaotic switch between 3 different alters in the matter of minutes. (As fascinating as it was to be co-conscious for this, it was exhausting). Now my body has had enough, it has kept the score.

My whole childhood is was “sickly”. Meaning, often I was home from school because I felt ill. My face would be flush, I’d have sweats, couldn’t keep my body warm, then suddenly burning up all with this never-ending feeling of nausea. Exhaustion, lack of interest and the inability to focus on top of pains throughout my body made just being alive difficult. It was like I always had a flu or stomach bug but not completely. I would crave cookies, pizza, soda and other junk foods. I’d have a full appetite at times which would turn into my stomach doing flips with a simple sip of water. No rhyme, no reason. As I grew older I learned to power through these days, self medicated or would be sent home from work (on the outside I appeared sick. There was no doubt about it) But I wasn’t sick, I’m not sick now. Not with anything contagious. Trauma, trauma is what I have.

Today is better than 2 days ago when this started. My bones felt as if they were each, singularly being grounded to dust all while still trying to hold me up to give me structure and stability. I was dry heaving, nauseated to the point of exhaustion, freezing cold or piping hot. I couldn’t even focus on what I was saying as I was saying it. No rhyme, no reason. I even had to request to cut my virtual therapy appointment short. I just couldn’t anymore. And I truly enjoy my therapy sessions. I woke up crying in pain at 2:39 am (random) yesterday morning and that set the precedence for my day. Yesterday dragged. Yesterday was a week long, the pain was numbing and yesterday was a group therapy day. I wanted to participate so badly, but I couldn’t. Not much. My lips weren’t moving, my brain wasn’t sending me information. So I participated where I could (I’m really enjoying group sessions too) because there was no way I was going to miss it.

Today started with me, while not paying attention, trying to make coffee with no grounds and not closing my iced coffee maker (insert sarcastic looking smile here). And well… here we are. I’m currently crying over a song I just heard, with a hoody over my head and a blanket on my lap. But I’m here and I’m trying.