I didn’t go for coffee with Straight Girl. Instead I had a chat with Pip about what’s going on and how I’m struggling with the inside of my own head, and then I went and sat in my car for an hour and cried. Cried hot, hard tears. I’d text her before to tell her that I was sorry but I just couldn’t put either through whatever this was, that I couldn’t be someone’s sexual experiment. I told her I was sorry that I was sending it in a text but that I’m justbin a really shitty place right now and that even if I could find the words to go in to it that I propbably wouldn’t be able to say them out loud. She said it’s ok. She says she understands. I don’t know if she really does. Probably not. I’m not sure I care. Probably not. The tears I cried weren’t for her. The tears I cried were a real mixed bag, a lot came bubbling to the surface, like a pot of forgottern pasta on the stovetop, everything just started to spill over. I booked an appointment this morning for a consult for NLP & Clinical Hypnosis, I think that maybe pushed me a little closer to the edge than I had bargained for. The tears were a mixture of pain, anguish, anxiety, fear, relief and hope.
The majority of my memories hurt. When she asked what my issues are I told her the diagnosis’ list; Anxiety, Depression, PTSD, OCD and Panic; then I told her the main issue, I have a long history of trauma that has never really been properly addressed. The DV that I experienced with Jay was and the emotional abuse I had from my mother growing up has, as has the PTSD but nothing else has, not really. I genuinely can’t think of a single happy memory from my childhood past the age of 7, and there’s only a few from before that; each one is a memory of my grandad. Once he died, all the joy went from my life. Once he died the family imploded and the flags of everyone’s true colours were hung up to fly in the breeze of conflict.
Literally every fibre of me is screaming that going for NLP and Clinical Hypnosis is some sort of trap. That somehow I’m going to relinquish all control of the mess in my head over to someone else. I know that logically this stems from fear of the unknown, but can someone please explain that to my OCD? I know that it will be nothing like the projections my mind is replaying over and over but at least it makes a change from what normally is played on repeat. That’s something I guess?
It must be nice to live without anxiety. Personally, I’ve lived with it since I was 4. I had my first panic attack on my bump up day for primary school. I remember it not so fondly. We were sat in the school hall, I was on this bench, the bumpy bits digging in to my leg. To my right was the assistant head’s office. The room started to spin, I felt so overwhelmed. I couldn’t breathe. I started to cry. A teacher came over to comfort me, but as always, my parents weren’t there. I wanted my parents. It was then that I realised that I was pretty much on my own in this life. Ma often says I was such a lovely little girl until I stepped foot inside primary school. I’ve told her why but because it doesn’t fit the narrative that she wants to believe she simply brushes it off. To this day I have high functioning anxiety, but don’t be fooled by the high functioning bit, it can cripple me in seconds if triggered, and the prospect of being out of control of my body, mind, life is a major trigger.
I think that as much as the whole idea of next Tuesday scares me rigid, the good vibes from her on the phone cracked me open just enough to tell a complete stranger that I need help and ask them to help me. I told her more in that phone call than I did in the three sessions I had with my last therapist. That’s definitely a step in the right direction, and it’s made the load a little lighter.
Despite being so massively overwhelmed at having taken this one little step this morning, I have to admit it’s given me hope. I have hope that this might actually work, I have hope that this might actually help. I need to hold on to this hope, it might be the only thing that gets me through the next 5 days.