A Moment of Clarity

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By Kirsty

This is crazy…

It just hit me now, whilst sat on the stairs. Watching my daughter draw chalk dinosaurs outside the front of the house and thinking how wonderful, clever funny and sweet she is whilst also feeling like shit. Physically knackered from a *self inflicted* late night and busy couple of weeks but increasingly mentally exhausted in general too.

Never Letting Go

For ten years I have fought. I have kicked and screamed and scratched and cursed. Then I just gripped on for dear life and held fast with grim determination, afraid to let go. Held fast to what was dear. Held fast onto love. Held fast to what is damaging. I’ve compulsively partook in unhealthy habits, now outdated, that helped me feel safe-then-and so have continued to help me feel safe in the years since. Having them may have helped me feel safe over the years but do they actually serve me now? Of course they don’t. If anything they might be damaging me further. Certainly, they hinder recovery

And that’s the true Crazy. The clinging to things that no longer serve me -if they ever did at all! Things that have damaged me. Things that prevent me from healing

And when I’ve not been outwardly fighting I’ve been fighting internally with my thoughts. Re-living the past again and again and again and again and again and not always even consciously. And of course the traumatised brain literally relives the traumatic memory, responding in much the same way from the memory despite the absence of the actual trauma. Sometimes I’m just faintly aware of a sensation of fear in the deeper most parts of myself. Sometimes I’m not consciously aware of it at all. Occasionally, I’m triggered and that fear flares up and it’s so terribly draining.

And it’s me tormenting myself, at least on this issue. Not deliberately of course. I cant even help it really. But it is self torment non the less.

The Torment

And that’s the other Crazy. The tormenting of oneself. Truly, it’s madness.

And then I’ve just been fighting to get through each day. Living moment to moment and living for the flashes of joy and happiness when they occur. Happiness that has so much more meaning for me now it’s a scarce commodity

This is crazy

The constantly feeling haunted by the past; perpetually swirling in the recesses of my mind. Feeling Her presence constantly. Living in fear of the day when She might show up in some form or another again.

And that day will come. I know it will. Time has proved to me again and again that it’s inevitable. It will happen again. It may take years but It always does, eventually

Why am I forever waiting on tenterhooks like this?