Falling apart

Tomorrow is a difficult day for me. I can’t even manage it into words right now, but I don’t mean to be cryptic. It’s just grief stuff. I actually wish alcohol was an effective coping mechanism for me, because then I could at least escape for the day, but it only makes me hyper, wired and eventually sick.

I woke this morning with the final straw. I sat up from bed, leaned back on my left arm to get my blankets off and had a sudden sharp pain in my shoulder. My right shoulder was already surgically reconstructed and is starting to fail 7 years after. Now my left is in as bad shape as the right had been before surgery. Even if a doctor was willing to operate (which they are not), that surgery was terribly painful and traumatic for me. I had never felt so helpless and physically limited. You do not realize how much your shoulders play a role in all movement until it’s pinned at your side with compression bandages for weeks. I’m in bed right now because even with my sling, I keep moving my arms in ways that make the pain so bad, my vision goes wacky!

What I hadn’t taken time to share until now is that I’ve recently uncovered even more details of abuse that occurred as a child and have talked about it in therapy. I check out mentally so often now because I’m being flooded with flashbacks and pieces coming together that create awful images. Memories would be better off left in the past, but the truth is there’s so much I’ve felt for long and I can’t remain in denial. Unfortunately, this is is weighing on me more than able to cope with despite twice weekly therapy. I live in a house with a person who ultimately allowed this abuse to take place and someone who rages out daily and they both battle daily, too. I can’t escape.

I actually told my therapist that she should “cover her ass and send me to inpatient.” If you’re new to my blog, I was sexually assaulted by a medical professional at the last inpatient facility I checked myself into for help. Yes, I’m obviously desperate. The fighting here is so triggering and I have to hide my reality just to get by. I need to be out of this house. I need appropriate medical care and I need to take a step back. Until then, I’m just a big open wound that salt is being constantly poured into. It’s too much to bear.

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