I slipped away for a bit, dipped my toe into the darkness. I didn’t even know I left until I started to return.
Dropped the kids off at Grandma’s house on Friday night. I became aware on Tuesday that I was still in the same clothes as Friday. No shower? Guess not. Check my hair, it was a knotted matted mess. Check the time…2pm and I am not out of bed, had not eaten. Did I eat yesterday? I see an empty bag of chips. Oh. And a mound of candy wrappers. Oh no.
Depression got me. 3 days in bed with half watching tv and half sleeping.
When I dropped off the kids, I also dropped off my reasons to get out of bed apparently. I knew I was only living for them right now, but this is scary proof of how true that is. I am not living for me.
I am starting to think this ‘progress’ stage of my therapy is not really progress at all, but an upward swing of my cycle. Meaning I have been here before. Do I really know more this time to prevent a future suicide attempt? Has anything really changed?
How can I measure PTSD recovery progress in a real, meaningful way with metrics and goals?
What do I want?
I want to feel safe. Alone. In a crowd. In bed. In a relationship.
I want to sleep. At night. Every night. Without nightmares.
I want to trust. Others. Myself.
I want intimacy. Closeness. Connection. Friendships. A social network.
I want to require less control. Live and breathe. Be free.
I want to enjoy affection. Human touch. Be comforted by hand holding and hugs.
I am not any closer to any of those wants. Which leads me to the next one.
I want to stop wanting to give up.