Last week was truly one of the worst and one of the best weeks of my life.
On Monday night I went to see Ms. A. As usual, I went in with the idea that this would be a light, happy session. We would just chill and chat like old friends.
What happened was something far different. We started out by talking about some dreams that I had, and it all kind of went downhill after that. I started immediately disconnecting from feeling horrible inside. Whatever happened in that session, I was not going to cry. NOT going to cry.
We started discussing my parents, and how they never really seemed to notice that I was a person too. They never really noticed that I was hurting. They never really understood my night terrors. They never understood my headaches. They never understood why I wanted to be in my room and never come out. In fact, I don’t think they understood much at all about me. I won’t say that didn’t care, because I guess in their own way, they did. But it was more of a caring because I was impacting their lives.
Anyway, as the session comes to an end, I’m already so anxious and withdrawn. It’s all I can do to sit still while she is talking. I was not hearing anything she said really. I was just there, thinking about leaving. I was thinking about needing to be away from the pain that was making me want to cry.
As soon as she opened the door, I ran. Literally. I had to get out. But what happened next, wasn’t my brightest moment. I ran to my car, but then just didn’t get in it. I ran another two miles or so. My adrenaline was in overdrive. I was trying to get away from what felt like overwhelming sadness. I was trying to get away from having a meltdown in my car. I was trying to get away from Ms. A seeing me in that condition.
I ran to our downtown area and stopped by a lake. I laid down on the grass to literally try to ground myself. I looked up at the clear sky, and asked God to please help me. I started thinking that I didn’t want to worry anyone or worse yet, have Ms. A call someone for help. So I got up and ran back. I slipped into my car and drove off.
As I’m driving home, I feel so much shame and disgust at myself. I feel like a child running from reality.
I got home and sat on my bed. I’m still shaking and not breathing normally. I’m still trying to figure out how to relax and let it go.
But what I did next, is shocking even to me. I’m still going over in my mind why I thought it was a good idea.
So I took some nail scissors that I had and began to remove my nails. I’ve had acrylic nails most of my adult life. It was the one thing that I did for myself. But at that moment, I needed to release the pain I was feeling. So I dug at them until they were removed. My finger tips were sore and even bleeding a bit. The whole process took about 45 minutes. My nails were ugly and scarred, like me. I then laid back on the bed and started to breathe again. I could finally relax.
The shame I felt at that moment was awful, but it was too late. It was done.
I didn’t want to go to work the next day, but I had to. But the next morning, I began to forgive myself. Such progress for me. It would have taken me weeks before. It would have thrown me into a downhill spiral that would make me withdraw and hide.
But, what it did was make me more determined to heal. I’m more determined to get this story out. I’m more determined to have a “normal” life.
The rest of the week got gradually better. My new job is amazing and I’m really connecting with people there. I’m connecting in a genuine way. Not worrying about wearing the mask that I always had at every other job.
The other thing I did is start to take my sleeping pills regularly. I think it has made such a difference. Not sleeping for days really changes my behavior and makes me do stupid things. I have fought against it though, because sleeping means nightmares and night terrors. So it was a catch-22.
Now, I’m refocusing on my projects. On my goals. On my dreams of being a new person. It’s been a good ending to a very bad start.
Until next time – I am being MJ every day.