Sam found a trauma specialist, she is a private practitioner and I’ve been there twice. I admit I have agonized over the cost because I do not have an income aside from my book sales. I haven’t sold many books. All I want to do is write, writing is not profitable at least not the way I am going about it. I have entertained the possibility of teaching a creative writing class but I have no idea what kind of credentials I would need since I don’t have anything to recommend me. I also love inspiring people. Speaking of writing I have selected all 100 poems for the new book. I have to read through them before I send them off for editing. I am proud of what I have written, not because it is exceptional, but because I have written what I wanted most to write.
The room is different. The new therapist has a room full of instruments and art supplies. She even has a xylophone and I am a natural xylophonist according to a middle school music teacher. Oddly the only instrument I can play is one I have only played once and I assure you that was a fluke.
She seems nice. I always say that because everyone is nice when I do not know them well enough to have an opinion. She seems kooky, I like kooky. I have not told her much about my trauma yet. We are working on building trust. She gave me some questionnaires about PTSD and Dissociation. No surprise that I suffer from both. I rank very high on the dissociation scale. That’s not surprising but it is scary. One of my biggest fears is developing DID. The type of trauma I have is more or less a recipe for its construction. I have always bottled up my emotions. Pushed them down by either bulldozing through (staying busy) or by simply disappearing. When no one is around I let them out but there never seems to be an end. I really do think I could cry forever. I am afraid that when I can’t “hide” I may “fracture”. I don’t like the idea of someone else using my body, fucking up my shit, messing with my loved ones. Right now I don’t seem to be anyone when I am dissociated at least not generally. Generally I am just offline, like a mannequin that walks ferociously if highly agitated. The walking thing is kind of concerning because I do get lost and a body without a brain can get into trouble.
The last two days I have been extremely depressed. Working on the book keeps me going and Sam’s love and support keep me “alive” but I am in a very dark place at the moment (Sam is sweet he came home early with flowers and sweets when I told him I was sad and he picked me up from therapy for a cuddle). I am just really sad, weepy, guilty, irritable. I imagine that is the therapy at work, there is no way to escape that part, it is part of the healing process. I am not good with emotional disclosure. My body is vicious at the moment, a lot of pain, pain is how I cope with stress apparently. Not how I want to cope with it but when I get stressed my muscles get so tight that they pull my joints out of place and tear themselves.
Speaking of pain. My appointment was early this morning and I could not get Isadora to cooperate and get ready for school. I had to take a shower and it is a 30 minute walk to the therapist. It was also raining a bit. Well I had to run part way but the graceful creature that I am, I tripped over my own pants. My pants are always too long and my boot got caught in the cuff anyways I went down face first and I went down hard. Somehow in the fall I pivoted my hips to avoid my knees and turned my head to save my nose. I took the impact on my left calf and left wrist I landed in some weird pushup and kept my weight up so my breasts didn’t get smashed (I think reacted as I do to my HIIT training). I have a bruise on my calf but it was my left wrist that took most of my body weight. Nothing is broken I have bones like rubber bands. If I don’t break anything jumping out of a car at 25 miles an hour, falling off roofs, or rolling down countless flights of stairs I am probably not going to break myself falling on the sidewalk. Oddly no one noticed they all seemed to be looking somewhere else when I decided to plow the pavement. I think I sprained my pinky though it bends of course but it is sore. I might have also slept on it wrong because it didn’t hurt at all until I got up from my nap (which was several hours after my accident). I often injure myself in sleep. It would be funny if I took a fall that hard and then hurt myself during a nap.