PTSD, aftershock, and financial issues

It’s another day of doing nothing for me – almost- but for a first time in a week, there is no hidden mounts of pressure, no insurmountable challenges and feeling of despair. I’ve just receive my next chunk of money, my next payment, and the suffocating feeling like there is a ring around my heart(or lungs) constantly squeezing, has released a little. I can finally breathe. For about 10 days, I’ve reverted back to whom I was when I was scared, panicked, in shock and generally depressed. Sure, partly for money reasons, but let’s face it, it’s not only that. Once again, I’ve went from a period of regular weekly income, to having almost nothing. Literally- nothing in my bank account or wallet. Spending my last money for the bus and wondering how I will pay the next bill. Again. It’s not such a novel concept. I freelance, which means I’m floating from periods of getting more than I need, to periods where I just have to be patient for a month or two while I am trying to get new work.
But this, it’s like a physical reaction, and I completely lose all my logic, and ability to get myself out of that situation. It’s debilitating. I’m just starting to think there’s no getting out of it, and it’s all dire and impossible, until, when I receive my money, there is a day of shock and relief, whilst I’m fighting to forget that paralyzing fear…And then I’m back to real life. Like I just awoke out of the haze(which I pretty much did) and became real. It’s like my reaction to losing weight. It’s one of the hardest because I wonder if I can ever get over it. Continue reading

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End of the Semester: About Concentration and the Fragmented Life

I’ve blogged about most of that first year after my SA and what it was for me, in a way.

But before I move on to the second year, there are few more things to mention.

Oh, and for those of you new here who are new to the story, if you scroll over “Story and Background” you can choose time period, and then go backwards in it to see what I’ve written. I’ll soon add few pages with chronologically linked posts for easier access. I’m also possibly writing a memoir book/guideline for those going through rape recovery. I’ve learned some things on the way of getting here, and although I am not an expert, there are things I learned in the past year that I wish someone had told me when I was first struggling with this. Anyway, that book is in the process of making, and meanwhile, there are few more things I would like to share.

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1. Counseling

I’ve mentioned in a previous post, that counseling somehow helped me, even though I told the counselor very little. One thing that struck me though- and that I tried to conceal from her, because I thought it made me a freak or crazy- was my inability to separate how I feel.

She started asking me things about how I feel.

I remember I mastered some answer, even though I knew that at best I’m twisting the truth.

But she kept asking me how I feel, and what was I supposed to say?

I was spending most of my time at my favorite university, with my friends, completely miserable? And despite that most of the time I am not sure how I feel? I can’t make difference between good, bad, sad, angry? Everything had somehow blended together and it wasn’t that I was running from how I felt. I had no clue how I felt. None. I ran her question through my head many times after that, for myself, and found it disturbing that I still didn’t feel in way. There was no separation of feelings within me anymore. I was an emotional time-bomb waiting to explode.

2. Fragments and concentration

Now, that is the other thing about my first year that I’d like to share. Mostly because while going through it I constantly wondered if I’m going crazy or have somehow broken my brain beyond repair. Only now, getting out of it, I can see how it was, and that it wasn’t forever. I wish I’d known that what I was going through was perfectly fine considering. Continue reading

Spiraling Out of Control

Today, I’m in a bit of a slump. Okay, so I have been in a slump for couple of days now. It’s one of those inevitable feelings that come along with PTSD and trauma and so on…either that or I am loosing my mind.

Either way, whatever work I touch those few days, it’s destined to fall apart.

I can’t work. I cry, I obsess over things, and I can’t work. Like I have switched the clock and went back few months. I know I got over that phase of recovery, so why do I feel like that again? All I know is, my life has been change after change for months and I still don’t feel like it’s enough sometimes. All the dark shadows of my life, they all wait, lurk in the corners where they belong, until I’m facing a bigger challenge, and then they all come back to hunt me.

I need to change.

I wake up on Saturday morning with that thought in mind, but I don’t know exactly how to change, before I do some work. Work doesn’t come along.

I need to change. Continue reading

Spring-Cleaning for Your Brain pt. 2

I’m one of those people that love taking over about 100 projects at the same time and complain of not having time to finish them. Time has thought me nothing.  The lesson of knowing when to say no is completely wasted on me.

Today, I order my room a tiny bit, but in a strange way, it’s a completely new, and unknown to me activity. I order in a way I never have before.

Usually, I try to find appropriate space for all, so that it can be accessible when I get to it. This time, I think first. I box everything that I can’t deal with right now, and/or for the next 3 months.

I cannot sort out all previous memories while I’m reflecting on a particular summer of my life. I won’t get to studying 4 languages at the same time. I can’t practice drawing, get in perfect shape, write, study Photoshop and graphic design, and make earrings. I can’t pull my life to pieces to get over that summer, and at the same time take on learning to cook. I can do some of those now- even a lot of them. I seem to be one of those people that love doing many things.

But there has to be a LINE. I’m learned to desire, to wish, to dream. I’m learned to research. No one has ever learned me to stop myself. Continue reading