Coping mechanisms: TV addictions and other disasters

  There is this moment today, when I have a panic attack, yet again. The panic comes from the fact, that the natural progression of taking few months to recover, is a lot of work past deadline, that I feel ashamed for not finishing. Either way, I am so panicked, that it’s absolutely besides me to be able to work well.

     But today, I choose differently. I take the evening off to relax, and leave the solving for the morning, when I have clear head. Continue reading

Advertisements

6 months in

There is this moment, that was probably the greatest moment for me that first year after the rape. It’s that moment you know. The moment you have been waiting for. The moment in which you look into your friends eyes and know you are finally home and nothing has changed.

It took about a week for it to blow up in my face.

*

This is the moment I fly back to my country, about 2 months or more after the rape.

I’ve waited to get back for all this time. All that kept me going through the too little work hours and the nights waking up each hour, was the thought about a home. I have home, friends, family, university, future, all waiting for me to get back.

I crave that moment every day, this is the moment keeping me going.

I deny access of everything and anything bad to my brain, and it slowly grows under my skin like a tumor. I smile widely, I think positively(or so I say to myself). I push all the bad memories down, because I can’t fight for job and survival and deal with them too.

Even as it becomes clear that I won’t make enough money that summer, going back home is what keeps me going. It’s hell., but it’s a temporary hell. I can do temporary.

Not getting the money I need means also that I need to take a leave of absence at my university. As I think over that, it makes me feel weak with relief. I love university. My friends are there. It’s my home. I like even the classes and the little sleep. I love it. So that feeling of relief catches me off guard and I’m not able to explain it for a while.

*

September comes, and I am back where I belong, at home, and everything that happened in the summer is safely an ocean away from me. This whole first week goes in euphoria. I have been in hell, and I am out of it. And for a second, it seems everything is right again. I am at home, I have my friends and family around, I have the university. It feels like I’m on top of the world. I have struggled with classes and other things during my university years that far, but now they all seem so much smaller than what I went through during the summer.

If I can do that I can do anything….right?

Wrong.

About 10 days later- 10 really great days of sleeping, resting, and seeing friends, my past finally catches onto the distance. The happiness wears off and I step into the reality. The reality of not having enough money to return my debts, not being able to tell great stories of my over-seas adventure, not being able to sleep or make the money I need.

I tell myself I am trying that fall. I am trying really hard. I keep repeating. I was through the worst, I am here, I can do anything. But it doesn’t work. I don’t have any strength to make it work, no will, no hope. I am so drained, even getting up in the moment feels pointless. Yet, I can’t explain that to anyone, I don’t want to. I just want to forget and move on. So I push myself.

Be positive. Try again. And again. Be positive. Forget. Find a way to turn things around. I don’t turn things around that semester in leave of absence. I just live through the months. I don’t even live. I simply exist. Most of the time, I cry in the bathroom(I feel that I don’t deserve to do it, so I can only let myself feel that way when I’m alone) and get in fights with my mother for no reason at all. I keep lying to myself. There’s no way I can explain the truth about that summer to anyone, so I lie to myself, force myself to be happy and try to find a way to turn things around. Which, considering the fact that I am having very silent, invisible, breakdown- can’t really happen. You can’t fight for a life you want if you can’t find a reason to even keep breathing. And all this time, even with my friends, I push the unhappiness down and I don’t let them see anything is wrong. I have been through the worst and I need to be invincible. I go through that fall the same way I went through the summer- thinking that the moment I get to the spring everything will be different. In the spring, I am going back to my university, which is in another city. Everything I was before is waiting for me there, or so I think.

Meanwhile, that fall, to everyone I know, I have few empty months. My parents want me to get a job, my friends expect me to get an internship. I can’t do either, and I am angry at all of them for no reason, all the time. And all this time I can’t explain why I am so deeply unhappy with everything.

But, unhappy or not, I somehow make it to the end of January, and that means a new semester. And getting back to normal. Fresh start. Or so I say to myself. Because I feel fine.

It’s that moment you know. The moment you have been waiting for. The moment in which you look into your friends eyes and know you are finally home and nothing has changed.

In that exact moment I know, nothing has changed, but I have.

There’s nothing left from the old me, that I can remember.

My life as I know it has changed forever.

And there is no going back.

“What little girls are made of…”

“…gunpowder and lead.”

I haven’t been here more than once a week for the past few weeks- too lost to even write, trying to start a new life- but now that I’m back, it’s hard to stop myself.

Even though the story from the song isn’t exactly my story, this is one of the most powerful songs about abuse I have heard. I love the lyrics, they always made me feel powerful.

One of the worst things in abuse is feeling like a kid that has done something wrong. Like you are being punished, diminished, and there’s nothing you can do.

But kids or now, we are powerful. And all of us who have known any kind of abuse  in our lives, we might struggle, but we will still end up powerful again.

About breakthroughs and all that

This post I won’t add a positive thing for the day, because the whole post is about positive change. While I’m still weary about not recovering as fast as I’d wish to, I do have 2  pretty big realizations this week.

Sometimes in life, we have to work towards realizations, but sometimes they just fall upon us. So these 2, just came to me. Ok, no, I would like to think I have earned them. I have spend 4 months going over details of my past, I would rather not relive. I relived them, thought over them, and fried in my own special hell in efforts to reinvent my life.

So here I am today, with some good progress on the horizon, finally. Continue reading

Honesty

Honesty is brutal.

Honesty can be dirty, nosy, so bad that we simply turn away and run. But what I have been going through for the past 2 months is more cruel than honesty, it’s more hard. Living 2 lives can be tough. Especially when someone asks you why are you not doing something, and you can not answer them, because the answer is so deep, so personal, that it would break you, to even say a word. Continue reading

Between two worlds

Lately, I’m living 2 lives. I have done that before, I have. Only then, I was living my real life- job, classes and friends and all that, dreaming about a life I couldn’t get, because I thought I was damaged forever. And those 2 lives, the made cracks in me, and in those cracks I began to look back in the past, and I couldn’t be in denial anymore.

I am starting to live 2 lives again, only this time, it isn’t a bad thing. Things in life are always the same, but it depends on where we are coming from how we are going to view them. Last time I was lost. May be looking back at the past wasn’t such a bad thing, because I needed to do it, but it did hurt. All these time, 2 years, I kept thinking, I didn’t have faith. I lost my faith, I lost my ability to dream.

I didn’t lose my ability to dream. I always knew exactly what direction I wanted to take, and felt no remorse for taking it, even when it was hard. Now, even in my worst moments, even when I couldn’t make sense of things, I still knew what direction I want to take. I just couldn’t do it.

That wasn’t loss of faith. That was loss of life force. Continue reading