Woof I really didnāt expect this week to be harder than last week. I thought things would start to get easierā¦ instead the sedation is so much worse physically, and the chorus of āI want to die!ā is so much louder in my head. The despair and exhaustion are palpable. I feel back in that place where it feels egregious and infuriating and devastating and shocking that anyone would expect me to work and function like a normal person when Iām dealing with flashbacks and grief related to birthing and losing my child in horrific abusive circumstances when I was only 12 years old. Like the fuck? The literal fuck? You expect me to be a person?
Except most people, especially most work people, have no idea what Iām going through because it would either be inappropriate to tell them or it feels like way too much to tell them. Even my work bestie, who I feel like Iām close friends with even outside of work, told me that my disclosure about e just made them dissociate and that they werenāt really taking it all in. Thanks for that. Thanks for reminding me that this is too much, too big, something people donāt have space for and donāt know how to comprehend or respond to. Thanks for solidifying my aloneness.
It is the most miserable thing to be crushed with the worst pain imaginable and yet have no choice to go on like normal. I will lead a staff meeting in 45 minutes and pretend like nothing is wrong, pretend like I didnāt wake up with CSA body memories that havenāt abated, pretend that I donāt feel drugged and hungover from a night of phantom abuse from years past. And it will be the loneliest thing possible.
