I’m all better now.
THUMP. Hard to see the sunny, blue skies when my nose keeps ending up pressed to the pavement.
Ok, made it past that hurdle. Life is great! It’s awesome!
Can I just hide in bed for today?
Found my silver linings, it’ll all work out.
Oops. Hi there floor, haven’t seen you in a few days.
And so on, and so forth. Overall life is doing great. I’m slowly whittling down the piles of bills. Been seeing Guy (after this many months, calling him ‘New Guy’ doesn’t seem quite appropriate). Finalized my readmission for returning to school in April. Have an interview for an awesome job that would be suitable for the next stage of my career – that is next Wednesday (the wheels of bureaucracy have never spun so smoothly).
I can’t decide if my anxiety is cropping up now that I have the mental space to pay more attention to it, or because my PTSD is trying to warn me that THE OTHER SHOE IS GOING TO DROP, GET OUT OF THE WAY STAT, IT’S PAST TIME FOR MORE SCARY SHIT TO HAPPEN ALREADY! Or even, perhaps, I just have no idea what to do with all the good things in my life. I feel like I’m missing something, some monster that is stalking so close behind me that I can’t see it no matter how quickly I try to turn and catch a glimpse of it.
Oh, right. That’s essentially what anxiety is, isn’t it?That prickling along the back of your neck. The pounding of the blood in your veins. The rapid breaths, struggling to escape the vise someone managed to clamp around your chest without you noticing. All because your senses are telling you something is there, and it’s going to get you.
And, well, it could also be contributed by the fact I suddenly, ridiculously, (ahem, STUPIDLY), decided I didn’t need my daily meds anymore.
I know. I know. I’ve spent enough time taking care of others with health problems that I know stopping my anxiety meds cold-turkey was probably a dumb thing to do. Logically, I get that. Rationally, it smarts and is embarrassing to confess to, because I know how that is setting myself up for failure. I can’t really explain all the emotions that tie into it. I know all the things I’ve said to others. I know the answers. And for some hare-brained reason I did it anyways. Addressing that with my doctor next week, so I can get all the necessary refills that expired.
And two weeks after that very poor, lazy choice, I finally began the work on renewing my protection order. So this last weekend, in addition to being blindsided by some information on my ex’s statements in January, I had to force myself to delve into the worst moments of the past year and arrange my facts and information into a narrative that showed my ex is still a loose cannon, not taking responsibility for his actions, and is irrational.
Ever walked through a dark hallway in the middle of the night, and stepped in a cat’s vomit? And then, did you ever jump forward onto your other foot to get out of the vomitty, cat-food, hairball filled mess to find yourself smack dab in another one? And then you are dancing around on your toes, feet covered in slime and much, trying not to spread the mess around. (At this point, it’s futile. You’re screwed.) Going through the e-mails, my first protection order, the recent things that have turned up, the worst moments of the divorce… and you have me practically dancing and sprinting down a hallway filled with cat-vomit and no end in sight.
I would apologize for the graphic description, but if you’ve never dealt with PTSD and anxiety, that’s the closest physical approximation to what it felt like, emotionally.
So I do all that work, but I, apparently, have missed one little detail. Which the very sweet, patient clerk at court this morning pointed out to me.
“Your protection order is good until 2017.”
“You don’t need to do anything for a year.”
“Say what? Really?”
It only took two more sentences to convince me. And a fresher copy of the protection order, to replace the one worn nearly to shreds by constant interaction with the contents of my purse. There, stark black against the white paper, was the year “2017”.
So, it’s been a hell of a week. Emotionally, the rollercoaster sent me all over the place. Ups, and downs and loops and everything in between. At least it’s ending on a high note. Especially, after all the emotions stirred up in my protection order… not going to lie. I was a little terrified of having to face my ex in court. Now I have a year to deal with things and pray he stabilizes and moves on enough that I don’t need to make a big fuss and stir things up again in court. (I know. Probably will need to get it renewed, as I know how that man holds a grudge. But it’s okay to let me have this little fantasy for a few months.)
I know over-all I am doing a lot better. I think sometimes I get discouraged, that once I reach the top of one mountain, I have such a better view that I start seeing all the other mountains I will need to conquer to reach that place where I am healthier, and wiser.
At least, at this brief moment when I’m at the summit of this particular mountain, I’m going to kick back and admire the silver linings on the clouds I’ve been walking through all week. See? There are some glints of shiny in there, reflecting the light of the sun now that I am above the cloudline.