Writing for therapy

Credit

It feels like it's been 1,000 years since I've been on this thing. I just [kind of, almost] caught up on many others' posts I've been wanting to read but not found the time until right now. I've had a lot of things I've been wanting to write about too, but I've been so busy all week. Except for today. Today, I've just been approaching Depression.

I don't even know what I'm about to write. I just knew I needed to write. And write. And write until I feel better. I'm writing for my sanity--for therapy.

I woke up angry. I don't wake up angry that often, but I did today. The main reason is because I got some awful bug bites last week. The only anti-itch stuff I could find was some junk my mom gave me, and I had an allergic reaction to it. Thus, my itching was extreme with a crazy rash all over and around my bug bites. It's not going away. It's just itching like crazy and I want to chop my legs off. I've prayed and prayed, and still no relief. Actually, I guess I did find some anti-itch stuff in our toiletries box out in the garage on a sudden inspiration, but that was like two days after my initial prayer for itch-relief (it only works for about ten minutes, but I'll take that ten minutes of itch-relief). So, I guess that is a small testament to the fact that God hears but answers prayers in His timing. Anyway, I was angry this morning because I barely slept due to the continuous itching that kept waking me up. I couldn't sleep under the blankets because the heat made it itch worse, but then I would get really cold and wake up freezing.If I rolled over in my sleep, I woke up because of the irritation of the bed against my skin.

So I woke up angry [tired]. And late. We had no running water [that's a lie. it trickled out just barely. I didn't shower, though, because I was already late, and I was not about to spend 45 minutes in the shower]. There was a crazy storm last night that caused some major damage and flooding. There was a lot of backed up traffic and accidents on the way to the Professional Development I was going to be late for. I drove on some scary roads. Then I got there, and it was cancelled because the flooding was supposed to get worse. I listened to relaxing classical and Jon Schmidt music on the drive, which calmed me, and I saw the cancellation for what it was: a tender mercy. Because not only did I have a free day, but I was able to meet and trade cars with my husband, who was driving our car that seems to be on its last leg to work because I freaked out about its issues yesterday and refused to drive it today. I got to take it in to get looked at today, and that was a blessing. The fact that we should have money to make the necessary repairs is a blessing.

The anger and depression floated in and out today. I kind of freaked out about the guy I talked to at the car shop (he might not really be stupid, but he sure acted like it). But I got over it. I was going to blog this afternoon, but I fell asleep instead. I went to my chiropractor appointment feeling okay. I went swimming right after. My mom dropped me off at the fitness center [because our car is still in the shop]. The plan was to swim and then read my Ensign while waiting for Jack to pick me up on his way home from work. Don't worry. If you're thinking that's gross because I have a rash, it's not contagious. The cold water provided a little relief, and I was hoping the chlorine would kill the rash somehow.

I changed my clothes to swim and discovered I forgot my goggles. Horrific surge of anger. Then I decided to tough it out and swim without goggles. My eyes burned. And for some reason, my body was against swimming today. I kept choking on water and not being able to breathe [I seriously don't know why]. But I managed. I swam 150 meters short of a mile and decided that last little bit was so not worth it.

I skipped group today. I was feeling on the verge of exploding, and decided I needed personal time. To think. To write. To process.

I need to write about a trigger [trigger warning!]. I can't get it out of my head. It happened two nights ago. I wanted to write about it because I felt scarred, but I really had no time to write.

We came home from swimming on Tuesday pretty late in the evening. My mom was watching some law show on TV. While Jack and I made our dinner, I saw enough of the show to be intrigued. I used to be really into mystery novels and cop/law shows until I realized I did not have the stomach for the stories. Most of them have something to do with some type of sexual assault, and, you know, with this addiction in my life, I completely can't handle anything related to sexual assault. Not to mention the fact that my tolerance for anything sex-related in media has dramatically decreased (along with violence and language). Anyway, this story was about a girl who was in a coma because she had tried to commit suicide, and she had a school-teacher who had been killed. For some reason, that sounded like it could be interesting, so I sat down to watch it for a little bit. Turns out the teacher was one who traded sexual favors for good grades. This girl wouldn't give in to him, so he, through cyber-bullying, made her out to be a slut and ruined her chances of going to college because of the grade he gave her in his class. She tried to commit suicide because she was so embarrassed. There was a part of the show that, to me, was really graphic, showing the nasty teacher trying to get his way with other students. I. could. not. handle. it. I almost started crying. I wanted to get up and scream and turn the TV off. Instead, I quietly got up, said "This is disgusting," and resumed making dinner, trying to ignore the rest of the show. It triggered me majorly. I also kept thinking of my addict husband, who was in the room hearing/seeing (unless he was ignoring) the graphics on the show. I kept hoping he was ignoring and choosing good thoughts to block it out.

Ever since that incident, I have felt out of whack. I can't think straight. Not only did it scar me as a WoPA, but it scarred me as a teacher. I had a hard time at my teacher training yesterday, and every time I looked at my fellow [male] teachers, my stomach tightened. I felt like I could trust no one.

I've carried this trigger, unsuccessfully ridding myself of it, for two whole days. It's bringing me down, people! I feel like I'm going crazy. And the more crazy and triggery I feel, the more worthless I feel. I'm fighting it, though. I am so fighting this!

I hate triggers.I hate the feelings associated. I hate the disgust I feel. I hate the fact that I can't get the sick images out of my head. I hate triggers.

On a better note, I had the blessed experience to disclose all the important stuff about my WoPA-ness to our new Relief Society president. I have never done that before. Just telling my friend a few weeks ago was a huge thing for me. I told the R.S. president for a few reasons. First, because I felt really strongly that I should. I really want to be an advocate for this stuff, but I recognize that it's not appropriate for me to be public if my husband isn't ready for that. So I'm an anonymous advocate. I talked to my R.S. president so she could understand how passionate I am about the Togetherness Project (she is going to announce it and put a flyer in the R.S binders) and the LDS Addiction Recovery meetings our stake holds. She is going to announce those and the new phone meeting too. It was so refreshing and nice to talk to her. And the understands! I'm excited to have her validation and open arms when I need her. Yay!


This is kind of a weird post. I just really needed some serious writing time. If you made it to the bottom of this crazy post, congratulations! You're awesome! :D Say some prayers for me? So I can have peace? And itch-relief?


*sigh* my legs itch real bad. I can't handle it.