I just flipped out on my dog and my husband.
Fortunately, it wasn't violent this time, but I'm sure I scared both of them badly.
I'm ashamed of who I've become, I'm ashamed of the monster looking back at me.
I don't get a break from the things going on in my head, from the problems, or from the pain. It all gets worse when I go to work, and that used to be my refuge from it all. I sobered up two years, eleven months and three weeks ago as of today, and it seems like a bad idea to go back on that, although, lately, words can't describe how much I miss the alcohol. Medical marijuana would certainly help give me a break, but that's not an option for me now, either. I can't get away from it, I have no escape and no refuge.
I have no idea how I'll survive this.
Showing posts with label hate. Show all posts
Showing posts with label hate. Show all posts
Saturday, April 14, 2012
Wednesday, April 4, 2012
Save Me
Today is my daughter's almost-birthday.
It would have been her birthday if I hadn't miscarried her a few months into the pregnancy, when my fourteen year old body, riddled with drugs my mother forced me to take every day, which I didn't need, could no longer keep both itself and a child alive.
I still love her.
She would have been eleven today.
It's been a long day, and the new therapist at treatment is most assuredly the devil incarnate.
Fortunately, I bring my journal to treatment with me- well, one of my journals- and I get more therapy from that than this woman most days.
Today, I cried- just like the last two days. The husband and I are still happy together, but the PTSD, in a combined effort with the military, is making our lives a living hell. Between flashbacks, ab responses, nightmares, blackouts, and field exercises, when we're together, we're mostly struggling just to avoid hurting one another.
I made a decision this afternoon that I'll have to make again in the morning. I'm going running tomorrow morning. I'm not going JOGGING in the morning, I'm going RUNNING. I'm going to run down the street, with my dog, around the corner, to the light and back, and if we have to stop, we will, but I'm going to try really hard to just let loose tomorrow morning. I don't want this primal side of me to be caged anymore. I can't open up at treatment most of the time, now because I don't trust the therapist, but also because of the guy who admitted to being a sexual predator and the guy who won't talk about anything but his penis and sex life. Maybe if I push myself to the brink, if I stop being scared of feeling fear or anger and just feel it anyway, and RUN like my life depended on it, maybe then the tears and sweat and pain and weakness will have a place to go. Maybe if I open the floodgate, I won't have to prod anything to come out.
I need this.
It would have been her birthday if I hadn't miscarried her a few months into the pregnancy, when my fourteen year old body, riddled with drugs my mother forced me to take every day, which I didn't need, could no longer keep both itself and a child alive.
I still love her.
She would have been eleven today.
It's been a long day, and the new therapist at treatment is most assuredly the devil incarnate.
Fortunately, I bring my journal to treatment with me- well, one of my journals- and I get more therapy from that than this woman most days.
Today, I cried- just like the last two days. The husband and I are still happy together, but the PTSD, in a combined effort with the military, is making our lives a living hell. Between flashbacks, ab responses, nightmares, blackouts, and field exercises, when we're together, we're mostly struggling just to avoid hurting one another.
I made a decision this afternoon that I'll have to make again in the morning. I'm going running tomorrow morning. I'm not going JOGGING in the morning, I'm going RUNNING. I'm going to run down the street, with my dog, around the corner, to the light and back, and if we have to stop, we will, but I'm going to try really hard to just let loose tomorrow morning. I don't want this primal side of me to be caged anymore. I can't open up at treatment most of the time, now because I don't trust the therapist, but also because of the guy who admitted to being a sexual predator and the guy who won't talk about anything but his penis and sex life. Maybe if I push myself to the brink, if I stop being scared of feeling fear or anger and just feel it anyway, and RUN like my life depended on it, maybe then the tears and sweat and pain and weakness will have a place to go. Maybe if I open the floodgate, I won't have to prod anything to come out.
I need this.
Tuesday, March 27, 2012
Women
Two people who I trusted very much- Buffalo Boy and one other- put down women, particularly female Soldiers today. It started off with comments about us receiving special treatment and turned to our perceived physical inequalities.
Then another guy, one who I've already had issues with and identified as a possible predator, drove by on his way in and whistled at me.
I lost nearly all control. I was angry after the first bit, but figured it would blow over. The second incident left me fuming, angry and enraged. As I came in from break, I yelled at the latter guy to never whistle at me again. I managed to keep my mouth shut to the guys until one of them said something about me being angry. It came out without me meaning for it to, but I told him I was still pissed off that he felt it was alright to put down women. He said he was just joking- a pretty common defense for him- and I said it wasn't a joke, and walked outside. Buffalo Boy saw me walk out, obviously upset and on the verge of tears. He came over to where I was and tried to talk to me. More calmly than I was sure I'd be able to, I told him that I was still upset over the derogatory comments about women, so I wasn't in the best mood. He got angry at me, made a comment about me and the other female in the group taking things too personally, and walked away.
I tried to clear things up with him, sending him a carefully-worded text message explaining why it upset me. I told him: "You'll always be my brother far as I'm concerned, and maybe if you were the only person pointing out our shortcomings, I wouldn't feel like I needed to defend myself. But there isn't one person or form of media that hasn't shown bias, either intentionally or without even understanding that they are. I'm sick to death of feeling like I need to be protected and taken care of and tired of being scared because men are bigger, stronger and faster. I'm done believing that."
He responded with another "you're taking everything too personally and blowing this out of proportion" bit, essentially saying that I was making everything about me. I told him I had tried very hard not to put him down or be disrespectful in my text message, and I wished he'd done the same.
I am done wishing I could be stronger or better or safer. I'm done being scared. I can't continue to live this way, because this isn't living anymore.
It's time to make a change.
Then another guy, one who I've already had issues with and identified as a possible predator, drove by on his way in and whistled at me.
I lost nearly all control. I was angry after the first bit, but figured it would blow over. The second incident left me fuming, angry and enraged. As I came in from break, I yelled at the latter guy to never whistle at me again. I managed to keep my mouth shut to the guys until one of them said something about me being angry. It came out without me meaning for it to, but I told him I was still pissed off that he felt it was alright to put down women. He said he was just joking- a pretty common defense for him- and I said it wasn't a joke, and walked outside. Buffalo Boy saw me walk out, obviously upset and on the verge of tears. He came over to where I was and tried to talk to me. More calmly than I was sure I'd be able to, I told him that I was still upset over the derogatory comments about women, so I wasn't in the best mood. He got angry at me, made a comment about me and the other female in the group taking things too personally, and walked away.
I tried to clear things up with him, sending him a carefully-worded text message explaining why it upset me. I told him: "You'll always be my brother far as I'm concerned, and maybe if you were the only person pointing out our shortcomings, I wouldn't feel like I needed to defend myself. But there isn't one person or form of media that hasn't shown bias, either intentionally or without even understanding that they are. I'm sick to death of feeling like I need to be protected and taken care of and tired of being scared because men are bigger, stronger and faster. I'm done believing that."
He responded with another "you're taking everything too personally and blowing this out of proportion" bit, essentially saying that I was making everything about me. I told him I had tried very hard not to put him down or be disrespectful in my text message, and I wished he'd done the same.
I am done wishing I could be stronger or better or safer. I'm done being scared. I can't continue to live this way, because this isn't living anymore.
It's time to make a change.
Wednesday, January 25, 2012
Forget
Today, I got angry.
I was angry the whole morning in fact.
I calmed down after an anxiety attack forced me to take a benzo chill pill.
I was proud of myself after that. I went to the office and to my fathers, just me and my service dog, without my husband, for the first time in months.
Then I got lost driving home. I tried to take the route I take every day. I still got lost. I couldn't remember/figure out where I was for about fifteen minutes. I got scared, angry, and cried. I eventually found I-10 and found my way back.
I cried after I got home, and apparently fell asleep doing so. I woke up a bit later, fed the husband and the dog.
I went into the closet to get something, something fell, and I got so angry I threw something- narrowly missing my husband.
I really hate who I am today. I don't know who I actually am anymore, because if your actions don't define who you are, what does? I'm not a good person anymore. I don't even want to look in the mirror. I try to dress nice, I try to force myself to do things for myself, but, really, if it's not doing something for my service dog or my husband, it really doesn't seem like there's a point anymore. I'm angry, anxious, and I keep causing more problems for myself and everybody else.
I don't want to be this person anymore.
I was angry the whole morning in fact.
I calmed down after an anxiety attack forced me to take a benzo chill pill.
I was proud of myself after that. I went to the office and to my fathers, just me and my service dog, without my husband, for the first time in months.
Then I got lost driving home. I tried to take the route I take every day. I still got lost. I couldn't remember/figure out where I was for about fifteen minutes. I got scared, angry, and cried. I eventually found I-10 and found my way back.
I cried after I got home, and apparently fell asleep doing so. I woke up a bit later, fed the husband and the dog.
I went into the closet to get something, something fell, and I got so angry I threw something- narrowly missing my husband.
I really hate who I am today. I don't know who I actually am anymore, because if your actions don't define who you are, what does? I'm not a good person anymore. I don't even want to look in the mirror. I try to dress nice, I try to force myself to do things for myself, but, really, if it's not doing something for my service dog or my husband, it really doesn't seem like there's a point anymore. I'm angry, anxious, and I keep causing more problems for myself and everybody else.
I don't want to be this person anymore.
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