Life on the hill: April 2013

Wednesday, April 24, 2013

Sunset.. Sunrise... All the same to him

I miss this place so very very much....

But my little man taught me a valuable lesson last week. He woke early, came into my room and said "Mum have you seen the sunset? Want to come and look with me?" (Sunset... Sunrise, it's all the same to him. It involves the sun.)

Beauty is everywhere. Sometimes you just need someone to remind you to look for it.

Posted with Blogsy

Like a ball in pinball machine...

I said it aloud today.

I am afraid.

The fear that has been rolling around in my head. The fear that shot out of the ball chamber, ricocheting off alarms, pinging off buzzers, like a pinball machine. Except there is no exit. The ball of fear just hits another bumper, spinning off on another tangent, hitting another alarm.

He is going to be released, and he is going to come looking for me.

I wish saying it aloud, writing it down, made the fear feel less. But it doesn't. It feels very very real. It clutches at my throat, makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up, my skin crawl within.

I want to run away. Disappear. Change my name. Identity. Place.

How can he still create so much fear in me?

Posted with Blogsy

Can't see the forest for the trees (and other cliches)

image credit

Even though I like to consider myself a relatively intelligent person, sometimes I can't see the forest for the trees.

For the last couple of months I have felt like the medication that I take to help keep my anxiety disorder under control, hasn't been doing its job. I've experienced this before, and have usually undergone a med change. It seems that I am one of those lucky people who a particularly type of anti depressant works effectively for 12 to 18 months, then, for whatever reason, it stops working.

After hitting the wall last week I knew I needed to make an appointment with the doctor. My reluctance to do so before now is part of the whole anxiety cycle for me: anxiety increasing because meds are working - anxiety about having to change because changing over is such a pleasant experience - anxiety that I have to take the fucking things at all!

Its wasn't until someone asked the right question that I was able to make the connection between an event, and how I have been feeling. As I spoke to the doctor, explaining how I have been feeling, he asked me what had happened in the last couple of months, what had triggered the change. I answered, thinking aloud, I've started working and juggling that has been interesting, but I love where I work.... I'm having problems in my relationship but my anxiety was spiking before that started.............

My breath caught in my throat, my chest constricted, tears tipped over my eyelids... Fear ran ice cold through my veins.

The parole hearing. That was when anxiety started shadowing my every move. When my limbric kicked. Again.

FLEE... FLEE...FLEE...

Such is the joy that is Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.

The demonic monster that resides within

Sometimes, no matter hard you try, the fake-it-'til-you-make-it veneer cracks, and the raw, ugly, confusion, sadness, anger, and any other damn negative emotion that you have been desperately fighting to keep in, erupts.

Slowly at first, a trickle, tears sitting on the rim of your eyelids, that you frantically blink away. Then you head starts to thump. Probably from all that gritting your teeth you have been doing for the last few weeks - a grimace that you pretend is a smile. Noise, even the tapping of the key board, starts to make your skin crawl from the inside. You rub at it frantically, but the sensation doesn't stop. Your agiatation increases. Questions from the people you love and care very nearly turn you into the scary monster that you work so hard to keep at bay.

Mum where's this? Mum can you ...? Mum, he's ... She's...

for fucks sakes just LEAVE ME ALONE

The crack widens to a gaping hole. The force of pent up emotion spews forth like water bursting through a dam. You recognise that the monster within is about to swallow you up and replace you with it's spitting venomous ugly prescence. You battle with it, running frantically to your room to let the monster bellow and spit it's poison, hissing at the people you love as you flee.

Anxiety. The demonic monster that resides within me.

Posted with Blogsy

Worlds and atlases

No pretty pictures.

Just words. Words that will probably make no sense.

My veneer is rock hard. Underneath, I'm shaking. The internal dialogue is rife with questions and anguish. Punctuated with a lot of shhh... Shhh... Breathe....

I'm heart sore. Again.

I think I must be attracted to dodgey salesmen. Ones that promise the world, but deliver faulty atlases. At least if it was a decent atlas I might be able to use a map to navigate my way out of this mess!!

Being with your best friend, feeling alone, and missing them madly all in the same beating moment is soul shattering....