Tag: Flashbacks

Post 1792

by Midnight Demon, posted in Bipolar Disorder, blogging, chronic physical pain, depression, mood disorders

Post 1792

I had therapy today and it went okay. We didn’t talk about anything we didn’t talk about yesterday. She wanted to know more about my “Purpose” blog, but I changed the subject. I have a knack of throwing her off a subject and only if it’s really pressing to her does she come back to it. She is concerned about my REM sleep as it happens very quickly. I don’t know why I can go to REM within about 35 minutes of sleep but I do. Today, for example, I took a nap at around 1110. By 1140 when I woke up, I had a dream. I don’t remember what the dream was about now but it was again, weird. I kind of wanted to tell her about my dreaming about my father but held back. I will one day, if it become more troublesome. Right now I am ignoring him in my dreams so it’s not like I am doing something or he is.

While I was at Starbucks, I was listening to a Rascal Flatts song about a father that had been estranged from his daughter for like 30 years. He then calls her when he is dying and then they both “forget the past”. It set off flashbacks to the last four days of my father’s life. He just deteriorated that quickly. His breathing had changed Friday and he was dead on Monday. Images kept flooding my brain, mostly of how he looked and had, in his last day, a glassy appearance to his eyes. I’ll never forget the look or the sounds he was making.

I texted my therapist that I was having flashbacks and if it would be okay with her to talk to the grief counselor. I think if I see the counselor, it will free up more time for other things to talk about in therapy. I just feel like all we do in therapy lately is just talk about my father. I know he was a big part of my life and he is gone now but there are other things going on in my life, too. Like managing my time, self-care, and handling my illness. I am seeing an ankle surgeon tomorrow for the boney formation that is near my Achilles. It is kind of freaking me out because I think I will have to have surgery to remove it. I know I will have to have an MRI before anything is done. But I am just worried that the stress of surgery and what it will do to my “bad” ankle if I have to put weight on it because I don’t think I can bear weight on my “good” one. It’s going to be tricky. I will weigh the benefits and stuff. But I just don’t want to damage the Achilles further, if it is. X-ray doesn’t show soft tissues so I don’t know if this bony formation has. I know she isn’t a medical person but talking to her about this anxiety is what therapy is about.

I know talking about my father is important too. I just think talking to someone specific about grief might be helpful and let me deal with it more. It’s been almost two months and I still haven’t cried or grieved him. Days I don’t have therapy, I just space out. It’s affecting my writing because I am just so sad. I want the sadness to go away and I don’t know how.

Afraid to Write

by Midnight Demon, posted in Bipolar Disorder, blogging, chronic physical pain, depression, mood disorders

Afraid to Write

I was talking with a friend of mine tonight. Somehow we got to talking about this month being an anniversary month. She wanted to know more and it brought up some painful feelings. I told her briefly what went on and that was it, my PTSD symptoms were activated. She wanted me to write or to talk about what happened. I told her I did. But now I am afraid to write because of my fears.

My sister brought up the night about my father and my cousin a couple of days ago. It hasn’t left my mind. They were there when my father flipped out and took out his gun. Though I don’t know where they were in the house. I was in the living room trying to watch TV and failing. I don’t even remember the show that was on. I was too into what was going on around me and frighten about what would happen. Never in a million years would I think my father would become so violent as to pull a gun on someone. Never. Sure he made threats to kill someone every now and then but I never thought he would go through with it. He was an angry man and still is.

I texted my therapist that I keep having flashbacks/intrusive memories. I know she is going to want to talk about what happened. I don’t know if I ever told the story in detail and I have had so many therapists that I thought I would be over this shit by now. Why is it affected more this year than any other year? Last year it didn’t bother me, not like this. I am afraid to write about it for fear of being pulled back and not being able to get out of 1991. I was 15 then and that was a long time ago.

Pain is keeping me from sleeping. Every time I lie down, my pain increases. If I sit up, it decreases. I wish I could sleep sitting up but I can’t. My back starts to ache and I need to lie down to relieve the pressure of sitting. I just need to wait till the pain meds start to kick in and make me drowsy enough so I can sleep. I am already tired so it shouldn’t be long. But then I never know when the meds will take effect. But if I my anxiety is up, forget it, like it is now. I have no chance of falling asleep.

I haven’t written in my journal for over a week now. I don’t know why that is. I keep staring at it and it stares back. I am afraid to write because I am not sure what feelings are going to get stirred up. If I describe my flashbacks, it will be too scary and I know I will not sleep. Best to avoid that kind of shit this late at night anyways. But my night time writing has always been my solace. It helps me to sleep. I just can’t trust it tonight, not when I have to be functional tomorrow to deal with angry father. Oh and if you are reading this, he is NOT my dad. Never was and never will be. He is my father and that is how he is to be named. Though lately, I prefer to call him fuckface, but that is my calling him that. No one else can.

Jack, my angry alter, came out the other night. I don’t know what triggered him but boy was he angry. I didn’t think he was ever going to settle down. He usually is mad at my therapist but I have had contact with her since Thursday. He thinks she is tired of me. He doesn’t trust her. I don’t blame him. He has been let down by so many therapists. He wanted to talk and they just shut him down.

For good measure, I took some Ativan. That ought to hold off the intrusive stuff. I really don’t want to talk about it with my therapist. It’s too scary.

feeling like shit

by Midnight Demon, posted in Bipolar Disorder, blogging, chronic physical pain, depression, mood disorders

Feeling like shit

I have been yucky all day. I had wanted to run an errand for my mother but it never happened. I will try again tomorrow. I came home from my father’s. He didn’t want to go to the ER because he thinks he will stay there all weekend. So we left. As I was walking down my hallway to the stairs to my bedroom, I got another attack of dizzy spells. I barely made it up the stairs. Now I am getting a migraine. I am seeing the doc next week and I hope that this can be resolved. I ate while I was at my father’s so this isn’t a blood sugar issue, unless my sugar is too high, which is doubtful.

I didn’t get up till 1500 today. I think this is the first time that I slept so late. It was a broken sleep as I was awakened by phone calls. My mother called me twice to see where I was. My sister called to let me know about my father. Then my other sister called for something else. And of course, my father called wanted to know what to do about his condition. He still thinks he is having surgery on Monday.

Physically, I feel so drained. Migraine isn’t helping. I only took two doses of pills today (at different times) and I feel like I took more. I don’t know why I feel so out of it. I also feel weak. The dizziness isn’t helping either. I am glad I didn’t go to the ER. I might have had a bed next to my father. Man that would have pissed him off. The attention would be on me instead of him and he would have had his underwear in a twist.

Mentally, I feel like I should be dead. I have a heaviness on my chest that is making it hard to breathe. I just don’t feel like living anymore. Everything is so dark and gray. I just want to sleep. I have no interest in anything except keeping this blog going. It’s been so hard to write lately. My sister brought up the gun incident today and I nearly had a heart attack. Apparently, my aunt thinks my father would have shot my mother had my cousin not been there. Where she got this information, I have no fucking idea. Now I am having flashbacks/intrusive memories of that night. This has been a hard week for remembering this shit. Some years are better than others. I don’t know why it’s affecting me more this year than any other year. I just know I rather die than relive those awful memories.