Finding Strength within the Confusion

I have always loved words. I’ve loved putting them together to compose something meaningful and watching how others use them to be inspiring. I’ve always had a quiet spirit, where I’d rather sit and write about what’s happening and how I’m feeling, rather than talking. I find describing my emotions verbally extremely difficult. When someone asks me a question, I need more time to process internally before I can verbally answer (which was incredibly inconvenient in University). I often felt a step behind in classes, because my brain just took longer to process all the words thrown at me. I like being able to sit and write – to have time to think and process and make sense of everything around me.

But the last few days, I have found it hard to process in any way… verbally or through writing. I’ve had 3 major appointments this week so far and my brain is tired. I’m emotionally exhausted. And I can’t quite figure out just what is happening inside of me. I feel confused. All I know is the questions of, “Is it worth it?” and “What if I don’t recover?” keep running through my head.

On Monday, I began the in depth trauma treatment with my therapist. It’s called Prolonged Exposure Therapy and basically I am baby-step by baby-step exposing myself to things I’ve been avoiding… So, my fear of leaving my house, I started by walking out the door, to my car and back. Then I walked around my 8-plex with someone on the phone. Then without. Then up and down the back alley with someone on the phone, then without. And so on. But on Monday, during my therapy session, I had to go back and relive one of my significant traumas. Out loud. As if it was happening to me right then. Over and over. For 43 minutes. While it was being recorded. Now, let me just say how incredibly thankful I am that I have a therapist I feel safe with and trust. Because there’s not too many men out there I’d be okay with sitting in their office, bawling for an hour, recounting one of the scariest moments of my life to. But even though I trust him and I knew I was safe in his office, re-living that trauma in my mind over and over was more terrifying than I thought it would be. I was 9 years old when it happened to me, but on Monday, it felt SO real. It felt like they were right there, in the room with me. I mean, I’ve had nightmares of this moment and flashbacks, but they’ve always ended within a matter of 20 minutes. But this, retelling it over and over, got harder and harder. The more I re-lived the moment, the more memories my brain released of it. I’ve been burying these memories and feelings since it happened. I’ve never cried about it. I just pushed it down. But on Monday, they all were unlocked and was it ever scary.

But along with the terror and pain came questions of blame… “Why didn’t I do something?” “Why didn’t I scream?” “Why didn’t I realize I wasn’t trapped and got out?” “Why did I let it happen?”… I’m scared, terrified and confused all at the same time.

Part of this therapy is that I have to listen to the recording of me re-living the trauma every day, hence the “Prolonged Exposure” thing. Tuesday, when I listened to it, I cried the entire time. It was like it was happening all over again. And with each re-telling as more memories were released, the more painful it got. It was terrifying. I was crying out, begging them to stop, but no one was there.

But after listening to the recording on Wednesday, I feel stuck. I don’t know what to think. I don’t know how to process this. I have all of these uncomfortable feelings and emotions that I don’t know what to do with. My therapist tells me I’m supposed to allow myself to feel them. To sit with the uncomfortable emotions and try to process them. But as I sit here, I can’t seem to do anything. I’ve been so overwhelmed by difficult appointments bringing out terrifying emotions. My heart and mind is so hurt. And its had enough.

So, I’ve returned to my state of numbness. I sat, listening to my story being told over and over without really hearing it. No matter how hard I tried, I just couldn’t focus. Couldn’t hear. Couldn’t process.

To be honest, I don’t feel much, but I can tell you I’m afraid. I’m afraid that this feeling of numbness and my body shutting down will prevent me from getting better. I’m afraid I’m re-living my worst moments and my brain and body will prevent me from healing.

I had the opportunity to see a Psychiatrist on Tuesday. I went in hopeful that he was going to help me feel better and left more confused and doubtful. An hour and a half of questions and I left with a 90 paged self assessment to do. I feel like he’s trying to put another “label” on me and admit me to the psych ward because he can. When I recounted briefly one of my traumas to him, he literally asked me, “Why did it take 23 times? Why didn’t you do anything?” Which made me feel like the trauma I had just relived in therapy in Monday WAS indeed my fault. He seemed to doubt whether my therapist knew what he was doing. Whirlwind of thoughts, feelings and emotions. I’m confused, worried, panicked, distrustful and terrified.

A Vocational Rehabilitation worker from my benefit company came to meet with me yesterday. Her job is to help prepare me to go back to work. I don’t even know how I’m surviving hour to hour. I can’t even think about tomorrow, let alone being well enough to go back to work.

My brain has experienced so many thoughts and emotions over the past three days, it doesn’t know what to do. I’m fighting so hard to try and heal, but it feels like I have no control over my brain. I want it to process and feel and heal and it’s like it’s refusing to do that. And I am so very terrified of what this means.

It’s times like these that I have to cling to my frozen moments of joy and words I connect with, to remind my brain that it won’t feel like this forever while begging it to feel again soon.

Yesterday, as I was feeling particularly numb and hopeless, Facebook Memories provided me with a status I had shared 6 years ago. It read, “Never forget that you are one of a kind. Never forget that if there weren’t any need for you in all your uniqueness to be on this earth, you wouldn’t be here in the first place…” ~R. Buckminster Fuller

It is so easy for me to feel insignificant, unworthy and hopeless. Like I’m more of a burden than anything else. But these words remind me I’m not. Even if it is to only share my story as I fight my way out of this dark and painful trench, I am still needed. Even though I don’t know how or when I will make it out, or where I’ll find the strength to keep going, I need to remind myself that I AM NEEDED. I have people to help me navigate the numbness, confusion, pain and panic. I cannot lose sight of this.

I began following Morgan Harper Nichols on Instagram a few months ago. She is someone who uses words to inspire. I often feel she is writing to me. She helps me realize I’m not the only one stuck in this hole. So I leave you with this. No matter how dark, painful and exhausting it is, keep fighting. You are NEEDED.We have more strength inside of us than we know. Our brains can re-wire. We can feel better. It is a tough battle. No matter how numb or lost you feel, fight. Find words and moments of joy that help keep you going. Cling to your loved ones. Use your supports. Just keep fighting. I need you here and so do others.

Love,

Becca

Last modified: 7:57 p.m.