It’s funny how 2.30am seems to be ‘My Time’. Most other folks are asleep, there’s very little traffic noise and I love the peacefulness.
I’m sure most people would wonder what you could possibly do at this time? Truly the answer is everything. I never seem to get projects finished, or started. My email inbox I think has a few thousand emails, the floor needs swept, kitchen could do with a tidy and I want to watch a tutorial video on YouTube! Decisions, Decisions!
Tomorrow at 9am I have an appointment with my Counsellor who is helping with my PTSD.
Sidenote PTSD from a crazy hallucinatory reaction to pain morphine in Hospital
Normally the appointments don’t really doesn’t cause me sleepless nights, truth be told I know they are a necessary means to learn how to manage how it affects my reactions to everyday things. Tonight it fills me with dread, I truly feel as if theres a tonne weight in the pit of my stomach.
My fear since the first PTSD episode is that I will lose my temper, and either verbally attack someone or physically attack someone causing them harm. To date I have only ever once felt that I was out of control and was verbally agressive to someone. I hate that it’s even happened once.
I have no rhyme, reason or excuse for my recent reaction to a lively conversation I was having with a friend via Skype. She to my mind simply refused to listen or follow logic and in the moment decided I was responsible for her always being wrong……… you can imagine how that all went. Normally I smile and nod, and say, ‘Ok, as long as that makes you happy, we’re all set’
This time for some reason I refused to take the highroad. I was ready to engage in verbal warfare. I can catergorically say there WAS NOT a ‘red mist’ event, as I was perfectly calm, but my frustration grew as she didn’t remain calm, or logical. Instead it escalated into her deciding she was upset and telling me to go ‘F*ck Myself’
The words had no sooner left her lips, when I had changed gear and was in decimate mode. I never swore, I never raised my voice but I raised hell. I was the argumentative Bugger you cannot get any sense from. The asshole who you knew was going to have to win no matter what it took. I never insulted her, called her names or expressed how upset I was. Instead I fought back with cold, calm, logic and passive aggressive rhetoric.
‘You tell me to go Fuck myself?
Have I ever spoken to you like that?
So you care about me, but you would speak to me this way?
Is this how you treat everyone you care about?
So that makes it ok? etc etc you can just imagine how it went, spinning further and further into the depths of an ever widening, bottomless chasm. The exchange must have went on for a good 30 minutes, ending in her silence and I needing to let the pups out for a bathroom break.
I walked calmly into my own bathroom, and instantly was so overwhelmed with pure fury and hate that like an asshole I punched a concrete wall as hard as I could. I should preface this with ‘Yes it was an idiot thing to do’
In that millisecond or few seconds I was incensed with raging frustration that she even though admitting she was wrong, she told me I should like it or lump it, that I knew what I was getting into with our friendship.
What the hell does that even mean? For the first time I genuinely experienced feeling unsafe. Here I’ll explain, my Counsellor has meade reference to this in our past sessions. I thought she was over exaggarating, NOPE! She was right on the money! I felt unsafe for mutiple reasons.
Would I hurt my pups ?( I could never)
Would I hurt me by doing something stupid?
Would I leave my home and go looking for trouble to get into?
Would I drive my car and hurt someone else?
Would I destroy something I valued?
Would I say something I would regret?
Would my words hurt?
This list could go on and on at this stage cognitive thought had taken a vacation and I was in full 2 year old tantrum mode. At the time I will admit it felt more like going 10 rounds with Tyson!
My mind is thundering down a speedrail that I can’t stop, adrenalin is egging my fury on. As of yet I hadn’t felt any pain in my fist from the wall I punched. Normally in the past this would derail the speeding jauggernaut, adrenalin thou art a heartless bitch.
This must have been the crisis or the crash she had talked about, I felt unsafe and to be honest a little bit outta control and for a control freak that wasn’t the most pleasant of places to be. In my frustration I punched the wall again, this time it punched back………
My fist felt as if it was on fire, worst of all I knew the pain would slowly start to register with my brain and there was also a very good chance I just busted a knuckle or two. The pain arrived, and my fury ebbed away to be replaced with silent internal screaming as I fought back the tears that were now stinging my eyes. I’m trying to slow my breathing, and avoid gasping for air like a landlocked fish. It felt as if hours were passing, truthfully it could only have been minutes. My fist, hand, and arm hurt beyond my vocabulary to describe. I felt like an absolute idiot for giving into the raging fury, here I remember chuckling thinking how intoxicating it had felt as well as feeling wrong. I was devastated I had for what seemed like no particularly good reason had lost my temper. Adrenalin was still licking around my body like flamed tongues. My hand by now is doubling in size, the throbbing was bouncing, and I wanna crawl into a ball, pass out and wake up after all these emotions and flashbacks were spent. Yeah! That’ll work.
Grown woman, broken knuckles, I hadn’t hurt anyone except me but all I could think about was the what if? What if? What if?
I felt a little wet nose nuzzle into my hand, my madcap puppy had came to check I was all good. I dread that I will ever see fear in hers or any humans eyes that I have caused. She crawled into my lap, chewed affectionately on my ear as if to let me know, it’s going to be ok, we’re going to make it. I had images in my mind of tantrums thrown by my Great Neice and how my family revell in telling me how that was how I was. What would they think now?
What would any sane person think?
So my dread is that I get to confess my loss of control. I get to shamefully admit I’ve been to embarassed to go have my hand xrayed and how if any of my friends had asked what was wrong with it I had lied and told them I had fell.
I know this is a process I have to talk through to get through. I know with my Counsellor it is a safe place and a place without judgement but What if?
I know I didnt hurt or injure anyone but me, but I feel like such a shameful failure. This is a label I give myself. I just can’t shake it. I’m hoping tomorrow my tears stay away. I don’t think crying is weak, unfortunately in my past it’s just not something that was ever allowed or safe to do. I would love to miss my appointment, but I know it would further hurt me and allow my spinning thoughts to pull me into a spiral.
………but What if?????