Friday, June 24, 2016

Helpless and Weary From Despair - Part 2

This is part 2 of a four part series.  Please read part 1 first.

I contacted a lady who I had been to for healing sessions in the past and obviously the years had started to get to her.  She barely remembered me and her coherence came and went.  It was sad because she was someone I considered to be a friend and important part of my life.

I tried to contact someone else that I knew, hoping that they would help me find my footing.  The call went unanswered.  The voice mail messages went into oblivion.

I felt lost and alone...

At this point, I felt lost and alone.  I had my partner and two cats, but for the most part, I felt like no one else gave a shit in the world about me.  It isn't uncommon for me to experience this because that's the experiences I endured one too many times throughout my life.

Sleep became difficult.  Body pain in my shoulders and arms grew with intensity.  It was difficult functioning and doing most anything, but I trudged on.  I was tired and worn out.  I barely had enough energy to get up each day and wait for the hours to pass before I went to bed at night again.

I really didn't care if I went on.  I knew that ending my life would hurt at least one person I knew far too much and so I just kept trying to hang on from second to second.  The depression came in full force.  Anxiety was quickly becoming my go-to-device.  Depression and anxiety became me and I became them.

I felt nothing but sadness...

I felt almost nothing but sadness.  I just wanted to hide.  I wanted no one to be close to me.  I shut off everyone that I could.  It was safer and much easier for me to deal with than allowing anyone else to hurt me further.

My business stopped.  There were no clients except the ones that wanted to use me and I just ignored their calls.  Why go back to them I questioned?  I felt like a failure.  I felt hopeless.

I waited to see if anyone would contact me, email me, text me or call me.  There was silence.  I waited and hoped, but once again, there was nothing but silence.  I sunk deeper into depression and despair.

Then the snakes showed up...

Then the snakes started showing up in the yard.  I remember the day when I almost stepped on one as I walked out the door.  I could barely catch my breath.  I could barely speak.  I froze in fear.  Then, one after another, I kept seeing snakes almost every day.

The nights turned into one horrible nightmare of seeing snakes the minute I tried to shut my eyes.  My anxiety was so high that I could barely go anywhere without feeling a full rush of fear come over me.  I was scared of every noise.  I was scared of the thought of a snake getting into the house.  I was scared of the word snake.  I was scared of walking out the door.

I was scared of going to the store or letting anyone see me.  I was scared of going to the office because what if one of those people were waiting to just hurt me and abuse me and use me some more.  I was scared of being scared.

My pulse rate soared...

My pulse rate soared to a constant 99 and my body felt like I was sitting in a furnace all day long.  All my energy was wiped out from me.  It was as if I no longer had control of who I was or what I was or what I even cared to be.

I wanted to reach out, but to who?  I wanted to reach out, but I was afraid that I would get silence in return.  I wanted to reach out, but I could not deal with any rejection, not even one tenth of an ounce.

The house was cold and so every day, I was triggered back to the days of my past when I was beaten and spanked and whipped for having cold hands in the cold Iowa winters.  Yes, my father was an evil man.  Yes, the body of this little boy has a hard time forgetting what he did.

I didn't care if I ate...

I didn't care if I ate.  Food was not appealing.  Sugar and chocolate were the only nutrients that seemed friendly too me.  I struggled to force myself to eat.  I struggled to make sure that I remembered to eat.  If it wasn't for the daily routine of our whole food smoothies, I would probably have been very sick.

Then I saw how sick my father had become from what my brother posted online.  He's banned me but I still have ways of seeing it.  I could really care less if my father leaves this world for all that he did to me growing up.  Yes, I'm a survivor of child sexual abuse.  I really don't care if my older brother would leave the world at the same time, for he picked up where my dad left off.  Those two are the most evil people I know and my anger grows at them when I think of them.

Yes, I know forgiveness is crucial, but my memories continue to haunt me.  My memories continue to keep me from completely letting go and I despise how the memories get triggered and show up at times when I can barely keep going.

I'm angry at what I've been through.  There is never a day that my body doesn't remind me.  I long to forget, but I can't fully remember what it is that I need to forget.  I long to distance myself from them, but somehow in this day and age, we're still connected.  I have tried to create my own family, but you can never let go of the biological connection.  It is there whether you think about it or not.

This continues to Part 3 - posted on 6/25/16 of a four part series.

(click here for Part 3)

 

 




Blog Post And Images (c) 2016 by Don Shetterly
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