Frozen
I had sex the day before yesterday with someone I've known for almost two weeks and I absolutely positively hated it. He keeps trying to push himself into my life. What makes me angry with myself is that I made a promise to myself several years ago that I would never have sex again when I didn't want to. I could have stopped. I could have just gotten up and left, but I didn't. I just closed my eyes and pretended I was somewhere else. That's what I used to do when my grandfather would fuck me and it's also what I did during the times I was raped. I'm so awesomely good at dissociating. I was super uncomfortable afterwards and I wanted to bolt so badly, but every time I tried to leave he would try to pull me back into some kind of conversation by saying, "Wait, I have something to tell you, " or something similar to that. I was so tired and not too long after the first time I tried to leave I started crying, but he either didn't mind or didn't care. I tried to hold back the tears and I tried to explain to him that I just wanted to be alone. Needless to say, he didn't understand that one bit. I sound like I'm playing the victim. I feel like I'm playing the victim. I hate myself right now. I was going to write something like, "He had to know I didn't want to and that was tantamount to rape", but he didn't rape me. I just let him do whatever because I was tired, feeling unloved and just didn't have the balls to say no. Actually, though, now that I think about it I did say no at one point. I don't know. It's all very confusing in my head. I feel like shit and I beat one of my cats early this morning so hard that she peed on herself. I feel like I'm going out of control. I'm a terrible, terrible person. I've been thinking about cutting a lot today. I'm sorry if everything in this post is so random. I really can't think well today.
Labels: health
posted by Anais Nin at
2:05 PM
5 Comments:
Please go to the nearest emergency room and ask for a psych consult. Let someone else make some decisions for you. If they and you feel you can be safe at home, that's fine and right - but if the decision leads to a hospitalization, that would be fine, too. You're not doing OK, and you deserve some care.
You're right. I'm not doing ok. I am doing better, though. Right at this moment anyway. I still feel like the biggest shit for hurting my cat. I'm not thinking about cutting so much, but I have eaten a truckload of chocolate today. When I reread my entry, it kind of sounded like I was date raped. It didn't seem like that, but my reaction to it does. I'm still sort of confused about all of that and I haven't spoken to that guy but once since it happened. I just don't want to. I don't know what I would say to him. I should have never gotten involved with him at all.
As for the treatment part, I think you might be right about that, too, but I have a job now and if I go to stay in a psych ward they will fire me and I can't handle losing another job because of my mental state. Also, being in a psych ward scares the piss out of me. I know that sounds self-defeating and that it sounds like I am totally ungrateful for your concerned advice. I'm not. I just hope you don't think I'm one of the people who get everyone concerned about them by being an alarmist and then don't take any of the good advice they get. I'm not one of those people. I actually am trying to get better.
Today, I told the girl who is staying with me that she has to be out by the end of the week and she threw a bit fit. I knew she would and that didn't help my mental state at all, but one of my really good friends called right then and I was able to talk about all that has been going on. The talking helped. Especially since my friend is completely outside of this situation. I guess what I was trying to say at the beginning of this paragraph is that once she's out (along with her cats) I'll be in a lot better state of mind. She's been staying here for nearly three months and I've been supporting her totally. I mean she has paid me nothing whatsoever. I realized this morning after I displayed such cruelty to my cat that I am totally in a state of emergency and that she had to go asap. It's mainly her being here and not helping me that is stressing me out so badly.
On the one hand, I want to help her, but on the other hand, I kept thinking, "Why does she say she's my friend if she keeps on taking advantage of me? Friends don't do that to each other." I finally realized after thinking about it all day that she's not really my friend. I've been hers, but she only wants to be around me when I can offer her something. It's not entirely her fault that she's been here three months and not paid anything either. It's mostly my fault for not making her leave sooner.
People, for the most part, only change when they have to. It'll be interesting to see how your semi-roommate changes once she has to.
I know there's lots of reasons not to go to the hospital, but going to the ER does not mean you have to end up inpatient. It may just get you some resources, some phone numbers, some direction. And frankly, I'd rather have you fired than dead.
Of course, you're right. If it comes to a choice between being fired and being dead; being fired would definitely be better. Sometimes it's for me to think that way. It's like I have to try really hard to get myself out of the way of myself. That probably doesn't make any sense at all.
As far as resources and phone numbers go, I've called most of the phone numbers around here already (been dealing with this for a really long time) and I've been in therapy for several years. I'm just not right now and I'm not on any kind of medication, although I do have some anti-anxiety pills left over from one of my last prescriptions from when I was in therapy. Thankfully,they are not the addictive kind. I had been on Klonopin and was horribly addicted to it and it took several months of withdrawal symptoms for me to get it totally out of my system. It has a really, really long half life.
I do intend on going back into therapy and getting back on meds. I know I need both of those. I'm not one of those people who want to suffer with depression, cutting and suicidal thoughts. I want to be happy and I realize that being happy is a choice and also that it's not a destination. You don't all of the sudden just wake up one day and say, "Wow, I'm happy," without some prior work in your life. Y'know? It's the journey that makes the life and I don't mind the journey. I just don't want mine to be filled with rocks I'd like to throw myself on.
I still can't pinpoint what it is about this guy and that night (besides the freakin' awful sex) that made me disappear into my apartment and into the hole of my mind this weekend. When my friend called earlier and asked me what the weather was like here, I realized I hadn't been outside in two days. This is exactly what I've done the other times I've been raped or attacked. So, now I'm thinking: "Is he a predator and he picked me out because I've been a victim so much in the past?" You know that whole thing about how predators can pick the victims out of a crowd and all. That's what I was thinking of . Or am I over-analyzing like I do everything else in my life? Was it just one of those bad nights? I mean, all sex isn't good, right? But, if it was just bad sex, why did I freak out?
I am doing better, though. I went grocery shopping tonight and bought a basketful. Having groceries in my cabinets and in my fridge makes me happy and it makes me feel safe. It's weird, I know, but I went for a long time not knowing if I was going to eat so when I buy groceries it means I'm nesting and intend to stay, so that's a good thing.
It makes total sense. When I'm at my worst - and it's been a while, thank God, but my memory is long - my biggest issue is getting out of my own way and figuring out how to think again. Not necessarily logically. Just to think, at all.
As for the struggle to get over the sex, well, one way to define PTSD is that we react anxiously and too much to perceived threats - not to *real* threats, but just what is perceived to be similar. I was with my husband, married and a mother, for probably two years before I could confidently expect to have sex without dissociating. Everyone has a breaking point.
Go buy chocolate. I can't think of much more in the way of optimism and self-care than chocolate.
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