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Had to look back at the last time I blogged here and was actually surprised to see that it was just 6 months ago. It's amazing how slow life goes when you are miserable and how quickly life passes when you are actually enjoying it.

A month ago I was in a really bad car accident. He was going 50 mph, I was essentially stopped. He ran right into me. Didn't even brake. The impact threw my car out into the middle of the highway. The fact I didn't get hit again is a miracle. I walked away with a pretty bad concussion and a sprained wrist along with a totaled car.

Fast forward to a week later and I got a settlement check from the insurance company and went to buy a new car. Got it home and then had to convince myself to go out and drive it (was anxious after the accident) and not a mile from my home I was hit head on by a teenager in a truck that cut a corner too short and turned into my lane.

To say I lost it is a bit of an understatement.

I was terrified to get into a car. If I had to get into a car, then I freaked any time anyone got near me on the road. I started having panic attacks again. I got really depressed; in part from the concussion (apparently it's normal) and in part from being so isolated. I had no stamina to participate in social activities nor did I have the courage to get into a car to attend any.

I started cutting again. My anxiety got so bad and I felt so out of control about the entire situation that I just lost my grip on the coping mechanisms I had worked so hard to integrate. They honestly were not working and that just scared me more and turned me faster back to the release I knew would work. It bums me out a little to admit it didn't work as well as I remembered. I attribute that to the fact that I have lost my nerve a bit. Not a bad thing, but in the moment when I was waiting desperately for that relief and it wasn't coming the way I remembered it was very frustrating.

I have had to go crawling back to V. I literally felt like I could not cope with life without her support. I was falling apart and I needed her to save me; or rather to help me save myself. First session back was mainly to gauge my level of depression and help me get a handle on that. Only these last two have started to focus more on the trauma of this last month.

Trauma... *&@! that word...

That leads me to why I'm writing tonight. In the last two sessions I have had two diagnoses/labels thrown out in our conversations: PTSD and trauma.

Hang on while I grab a pin for my scarlet letter(s).

I never quite understood why in meetings at school, parents were so dead set against accepting the help their child so desperately needed because it would label their child as dyslexic or learning disabled or autistic.

I completely get it now. Labels take away humanity. They force you to see one thing and divert your attention from the millions of other things that are true about yourself/your child/whomever.

So to label myself with PTSD means I am that. To say I am traumatized again means that is my whole existence. You may be able to see the millions of other things, but I see only that. The shame that came with those things last time shrouds everything else in darkness.

I broke down in tears at this discussion today because I hate connecting this situation to my past. To me they have nothing in common and to connect them only further solidifies my feelings of helplessness and powerlessness. But as V was quick to point out, my prior experiences with PTSD and trauma were riddled with feelings of helplessness and powerlessness. I dealt with them the best way I knew how (aka shoved them so far down they rarely ever surfaced) and suffered the consequences of their unwelcome eruption 4 years ago. But as she also pointed out, I am so much healthier now and in a position of power in my own life to be able to process those feelings in a different environment and with a better understanding of my own self to possibly further my healing in a way I wasn't ready for before.

And you know what? I like the sound of that.

An Update On Treatment

Sorry I've been MIA for so long. Being in treatment every day doesn't leave me much energy to come home and write.

V decided last week that she wanted me to fully commit to working the program at IOP and that she would not continue to meet with me while I was in treatment. I flipped out. I was so upset I literally cried for 3 hours, but I understood why she was making this decision. I wasn't pushing myself to participate in treatment because I knew I could wait and talk to her.

Now that it has been over a week, knowing that my only chance to process/talk is at IOP, I have really been able to commit to the process and feel like I'm finally making some progress.

It is still really hard to talk about some things and fully trust the group, but I at least feel like it is starting to do some good.

I miss seeing V, but she'll be there for me when I transition out and get back to work. Right now it looks like that won't be until February 22nd at the earliest. That is still a lot of time for me to continue healing!

Worst. Week. Ever.

The past 7 days have been probably the worst of my life. I have been to hell and back.

Last Thursday I started becoming extremely suicidal. Thankfully I had an appointment with my psychiatrist that day and she put me on a mood stabilizer right then. I wasn't honest with her about all the thoughts I was having because I did not want her to admit me to the hospital. It got worse Friday and Saturday. I really wanted to die. I started feeling better on Sunday, but was still extremely depressed. I didn't go to IOP on Monday because the roads were too icy to drive, but I did meet with V Monday night. She and my psychiatrist both thought it would be a good idea for me to voluntarily admit myself to the hospital. I really didn't want to do that, but allowed myself to be persuaded to try it. V went with me Tuesday to check into the hospital and once they walked us into the unit I freaked out. Like literally lost it. They had to put me in a room to calm down. V did her best to convince me to stay, but I couldn't. I was terrified of being "locked" up there. I felt really bad for wasting her time, she was there with me for almost 2 hours, but I just couldn't stay there.

V asked me to commit to doing PHP since I didn't agree to staying at the hospital and she wanted me to get more intensive help than what IOP could offer. I didn't want to do PHP originally because it was a coed group but I went Wednesday to this new group. I hated it. I was surrounded by detoxing men and felt so out of place. I left and called my IOP therapist to see if I could come back.

I had to be re-assessed and re-admitted since I had been MIA for 3 days. By the time I got done filling out the paperwork again, the clinician came in and told me that the women's group (the IOP program I had started) was being dissolved because there weren't enough people. I started freaking out again. I had no idea what I was going to do. I left the center to go to my session with V. By the time I got to her office they called and said they had another admission and that IOP was back on for Thursday.

I was so afraid of my session with V. I was so ashamed of how I reacted at the hospital and I was afraid she was mad at me. I definitely wasn't expecting the conversation that we had, but looking back at a more stable place I can't say I'm surprised that we had this conversation.

V told me that she allowed herself to get too emotionally involved with everything going on with me. She told me that over the last 2 weeks she was making decisions more as a mother or friend than as my therapist. She said the maternal side of her kicked in and she allowed her judgement to be affected by her emotions and feelings. She was so worried about me killing myself that she put me and my needs above her own. She was frustrated with herself because she didn't realize she was doing that until she left the hospital feeling emotionally and physically drained from watching and helping me through my freakout. Her decisions had enabled me to continue running to her any time things got hard (which I was doing... e-mailing, calling, texting, sessions 3 or 4x a week) and not allowing myself to reach out to anyone else for help. I literally got to a point over these last few weeks where I could barely function without talking to her. And like her, I didn't realize it in the moment. I felt bad that I had put such a strain on our professional relationship because of everything, but at the same time I felt so loved and supported in hearing her say just how much she cared for me and did all these things because she wanted to make sure that I stayed safe. I made sure to tell her how much I appreciated everything she did for me and that had she not been there to support me, I really felt as though I would have killed myself.

We talked a little bit about how things needed to change, as far as my treatment in IOP, how I needed to step back from relying on her so much and allow myself to be open to the group and therapist and what they can offer me. She told me there are things she is going to do differently as well, pertaining to how accessible she is to me. Part of the reason I became so dependent on her and unable to do anything on my own is because I could call, email or text her at anytime and she'd always respond. That is something that is not going to happen anymore. Obviously in emergencies this doesn't apply, but if she is always there to put out my fires, I'll never be able to figure out how to apply what we talk about in sessions.

I was scared when we were having this conversation because the insecure part of me thought this meant that she was no longer going to treat me, but I knew that I was overreacting. V has always wanted nothing more to help me heal, and this is just another step in the process.

So I went to IOP yesterday with a different outlook on how it was going to help me. I did my best to push myself to be present in the moment, be vulnerable and allow myself to trust that the group and therapist were not going to judge me. It was hard. Very hard. I started to talk about my abuse and abuser, but was still too afraid to talk specifically about what happened. I wish I could have done more, but this is a process. I can't do it all in one day. I had kind of a rough afternoon, having a panic attack at the grocery store and then another at home. It's not surprising since I am opening up about these secrets, but it still sucks.

I woke up today ready to go back to IOP and push myself more. Unfortunately the admission that was supposed to start today to make our group "big enough" didn't show up so they cancelled it. The group therapist offered to transfer us to the other program at the center, but it's lead by a male and focuses on chemical dependency. That is not going to help me. So now I am on standby for treatment. If someone else signs up over the weekend, we'll have IOP on Monday and Tuesday, if not we won't meet again until Wednesday when the next admission starts. I'm frustrated because I am ready to be working now, and I have to wait around. Right now I still have paid days to use, but those are going to run out next week. There is a chance I will qualify for the sick leave bank from work where they will give me donated paid days to use. That would be great, but I would hate to waste them sitting at home.

This weekend is going to be rough. No sessions with V, I can't allow myself to contact her, all my friends will be at our church retreat which I planned to go to, but when I was going to be hospitalized I had them refund my money since I wasn't sure I was going to be able to go. I hate feeling so alone. I hope my depression doesn't deepen because of this weekend.

I Hate My Life

This depression is sucking everything out of me... I wish I had happier news to report, but I just feel like slipping away. God willing, he'll either take me out of my misery or make this medicine work faster because I don't know how much more I can handle.

I'm Not Dead

Well, these past few days have been so incredibly difficult, unpredictable and spirit crushing, but I didn't kill myself... so I guess that's good. It's not for lack of wanting to though. I start treatment full time on Monday. Yee haw.

Scared

Things have gotten bad enough that V had to escort me to the hospital this morning. I'm being admitted to the PHP program for women.

Lots of unknowns right now. How long I will have to take off of work, if I will qualify for paid leave, what treatment is going to be like, etc. I sure could use some prayers... Life is really scary right now.

Fact or Fiction?

I'm so glad I have another week off. Don't get me wrong, I loved flying out to California to see my dad and actually had a really fun Christmas with my mom and sister, but I need some time for me. Doing things I want to do, not things I feel obligated to do.

I've had 3 bad nights in a row stemming from a conversation I had with my little sister on the plane home from California. V had been talking to me about possibly talking to her to see if she could help fill in some holes I have in my memory immediately after I was abused. I don't know where the courage came from, but I asked her about things I never thought I would. What happened after I came out of the bedroom? What happened when we got home? What did Mom say/do? What did I say/do?

Some things I had snippets of, other things I had completely out of order in which they actually happened, other things I don't remember at all. My sister was so helpful in telling me what she remembered, which is a blessing since she was only 10 years old at the time. I told her I worried about her having to go through the same thing I have over the past few years. She asked me if I had PTSD, to which I told her the truth; yes. I asked her how she was able to go through life without having the abuse affect her as much as it did me. She talked a little bit about her own abuse, which she has never done... at least not since that day that she disclosed her abuse to me and my mom. She was spared the invasive nature of abuse that I suffered, which explains to me a little more about how she can shrug it off so easily.

She and I are so different in how we react to things. She blows up immediately and then is basically over it, I am extremely sensitive and hold things in. I think she really began to understand why I have had such a hard time with this. Why I'm afraid to be in a relationship. How hard it is to feel the pressure from our family to get married when they have no idea what it's like to carry this burden.

After we got home Thursday night and I laid down to go to sleep, I was inundated with flashbacks and vivid replays of things that were brought out and dusted off from that conversation. They invoked physical reactions and sensations that make me want to vomit. I've been so confused. Am I remembering actual events or is it my mind projecting things with this new information to fill in the blanks?

I may never know...

Life Is Just Another 4-Letter Word

Sometimes I wonder if I will ever enjoy life.

It seems as if my life is nothing but impossible task after task, never getting time to stop and smell the flowers. Or even be happy.

I had a panic attack in session with V today. Freaking fantastic.

I know finding her was God's will. She is an amazing person. I have felt so supported and respected in the last week (today being exactly 1 week since my first session with her) than I can ever remember feeling with anyone. I truly believe her when she says she cares about me and helping me get better.

I feel safe when I'm with her, even if it is resulting in panic attacks.

Only problem is I am only seeing her 2 hours a week. 2 hours out of 168. The other 166 hours of the week, I'm praying for time to pass. Praying that it gets here fast so I can feel safe.

I am seriously considering taking time off of work and entering IOP.

I cut last night and for the first time, it didn't make me feel better. And for an instant I wondered just how much I was going to have to "up my game" to keep getting the results I wanted.

Life isn't supposed to be like this.

Feeling Like Myself

I'm finally starting to feel like myself again.

Two weeks ago I had the carpet pulled out from underneath me and had a horrible recurrence of the PTSD and depression. I have never felt as inclined to hurt myself as I did a couple of weeks ago. I ended up going to my doctor and telling her what was going on (she had no clue that I was even abused, let alone suffering from panic attacks, nightmares, etc). I've been on medication now to help lessen the PTSD symptoms for about 10 days. Too early to really do anything, but we'll see. It didn't help that last week I was confronted by A about my cutting. Given that I was exhibiting signs of being suicidal, she took the fact that I cut that weekend as an escalation because I didn't attempt to try any other methods or reach out for help. It was a misunderstanding. I don't view my actions at all as an escalation, but rather me being lazy and wanting to feel better using the only quick way I had at my disposal.

We discussed this in depth on Tuesday. I told her how hurt and angry I was that she gave me this ultimatum, especially given my state of mind at the time. I told her how it made me want to hold back on things that I'd be afraid she would use against me, even if it was in the best interest of my health. Now that I've had some time and distance from it, I understand why she had to do what she did, but I am still upset. I'm worried about the "finality" of the situation. The fact that I have to be perfect and can't ever slip up. If I were to ever tell her that I cut again, she'd refer me to in-patient counseling; which I will not do. I flat out told her that. It took me a long time to trust her enough to be as open as I am. There is no way I could do that with a complete stranger or a room full of complete strangers. It just wouldn't work. I'd shut down. She made sure to tell me that even if I do end up doing in-patient for a couple of weeks, that it didn't mean I couldn't come back and continue to see her, but the problem with that is that I won't ever do it. I can't see her letting me "come back" if I don't comply with her referral. So I feel this pressure to be perfect. It's going to be hard for me to delve into the depths of the reasons why I cut without triggering my need to actually do it. I have a feeling it's a thin line. Thankfully I have summer break ahead of me to minimize my stress levels and hopefully help me tackle this head on.

The Knock at the Door

I haven’t felt such anxiety in a very long time.

I was shaking.

The knock at the door might as well have been a gunshot. It triggered an even deeper anxiety.

I buried my head in my hands. I spent almost the whole appointment like this, crying, hyperventilating or shaking. I looked up on occasion to read her face. To make sure she wasn’t disgusted with what she was hearing.

“Hey sweetie. What’s going on?”

“I… I… “

“Is everything OK?”

“No. It’s not OK.”

“OK, tell me what’s going on.”

“I don’t think I can do this.”

“Do what?”

“Tell you what has been going on. The only reason I’m here is because it kept my counselor from putting me in the hospital.”

“Was she afraid you were going to hurt yourself?

“Yes.”

“Did you want to?”

“Yes.”

“Did you have a plan?”

“Yes. I had to leave work Friday because things had gotten so bad so fast. I don’t know why this is happening again.”

“When did you start feeling this way?”

“It started getting worse on Wednesday.”

“Was there something specific that triggered it?

“Surgery. When I found out in March that I was going to need surgery, it was a blessing. It gave me the chance to stop focusing on what I was doing in counseling and focus on that instead. Then when surgery was over I just didn’t want to go back to all that hard work. Before all of this things were getting better and now I feel like I’m slipping back to where I was 18 months ago. The panic attacks have come back, I’ve been having nightmares and these awful things that feel like dreams that I cannot wake up from, but I’m awake during them. I just want it to stop.”

“Hun, we need to see about getting you some more help. You aren’t safe this way. This is eating you up. I can see it right in front of me. Your body can't handle much more of this.”

“No. I don’t want any more help. I’m already going to counseling. That’s enough. I’m not going to the hospital. I won’t do anything else.”

“What does your counselor say?”

“She wants me to take medication. But I don’t want to do that. I just can’t.”

“Why can’t you? It will make you feel better. I know you can’t see it now, but anything you can do to help yourself feel better is going to be worth it.”

“I don’t want to have to rely on medication. I took Lexapro last year when this happened the first time and it worked fine, I guess. It made me very numb. Everything was always fine. No emotions. It made it harder for me to focus on the work I needed to in counseling because I wasn’t able to feel as much. I saw a psychiatrist once and it was awful. I won’t do that again.”

“What was awful?”

“I don’t know this person. I don’t trust them. I’ve been coming to you for over 4 years and haven’t ever been able to tell you what’s happened. I’ve tried before, but I just couldn’t do it.”

“Why can’t you?”

“Because it’s too awful. I don’t want people to know.”

“Sweetie, you need to tell me what happened. I’ve heard everything. I promise it is not going to surprise or shock me. I’m here to help you. That’s my job is to take care of you. You can trust me.”

“After my grandpa died something inside of me “snapped”. I just couldn’t hide anymore.”

“What were you trying to hide from?”

“My childhood.”

“It’s OK. You can tell me what happened.”

(insert sobbing, shaking, hideous quiet here)

“My dad’s friend sexually abused me.”

“How long did this go on?”

“I was 13. He was living with my dad after my parents divorced. I told my parents what he did to me.”

“What happened to him?”

“He didn’t go to jail. I just couldn’t testify against him. He got probation. But after that my parents pretended it didn’t happen. I wasn’t allowed to talk about it.”

“So you never got any support or counseling afterwards?”

“No.”

“Honey, I am so sorry that happened. So you said this was first triggered by your grandfather’s death? That is very common. I’ve seen it quite a bit with a few of my other patients. It’s not surprising that the surgery triggered this again for you. Your body has been through a lot lately. Please, will you let me help you?”

“Help how? I don’t want to be put on medication. I don’t want to rely on that for the rest of my life.”

“No. Not for the rest of your life. Lots of people come off of their medication. We just need to get you better now. You can’t stay in the state you are at. I can see how much this is eating away at you. I won’t let it do that. Will you let me prescribe you something just to help you through this? I promise it’ll be so small you probably won’t even notice you’re taking anything. Will you do that for me?”

(defeated nod)

“Just promise me that you’ll take it for the next two weeks. I want to see you back here then and we’ll talk again. Seriously. I’m going to hunt you down in two weeks. (laugh) We’ll get you past this. Things will go back to how they were before. I promise I’ll get you there.”

All in all, my doctor spent almost 30 minutes with me. I couldn’t have asked for this appointment to go any better. Every time I got the courage to look up at her, I was met with a face that showed concern, caring and sympathy. I couldn’t have confided in her if she wasn’t someone who had those qualities. Part of me is glad she knows now, because she’ll really be able to understand the stressors in my life and how it affects my overall health. The other part of me wishes she still didn’t know. It already feels like this has taken over my entire life. Having another person monitor me feels like more pressure.

I left her office in a complete daze. I’m surprised I could remember so much of this appointment. Normally when I am this ramped up, I don’t remember what happened. My anxiety right now is maxed out. I’m sluggish, but yet my body is one door slam away from jumping out of its skin. I just want this to go away. I have to go back to work tomorrow and it’d be nice if I don’t feel so worn down. Counseling is going to do enough of that.

I sent A an email on Saturday pleading with her to understand why I broke one of the parameters of the contract she put together for me (cutting). I didn’t want to sign it because I didn’t think I could live up to that part. I also didn’t feel I had a choice. It was either sign her contract or go to the hospital. And I wasn’t about to do the latter. I don’t know what type of reply I was expecting back from her, but I ended up lashing out at her. I was so frustrated with her, with myself, with this entire god-forsaken situation that instead of appreciating the one person who is there to help me, I took it out on her. And now I have to face her Tuesday. Fantastic. Someone tell me how a little pill is supposed to help with that.

Today Was Awful

Got my sign-up time mixed up and showed up 45 minutes late to my interview.

Consultation with the surgeon. Will have to have surgery to remove my gallbladder.

Tried to hide the scars during the exam, but she saw them. Then proceeded to ask about the PTSD.

I completely shut down. I don't know how I kept from crying. I asked (begged?) her not to make me tell her why. I felt the panic wash over me and take me some place else.

I left feeling this big.

I hate being so powered by this shame.

Session tonight should be a train wreck. Perfect way to end this perfect *#&(*!@ day.

December Beware

I'm not a huge fan of December. 2 years ago is when my walls came crashing down and I no longer could hide from my abuse. I was diagnosed with PT.SD and depression and barely was able to manage a normal semblance of a life.

Last year, after surviving another meltdown in late October, I spent much of the holidays in a fog. It was a time where my attempt at denial had come full force to knock me down, take away all my defenses and make me feel as though I wanted to die.

This year is different, although part of me is on edge expecting something huge and awful to happen again. I am still finding that my moods are very erratic, but I am attributing that to stress more than anything. My sadness this year is coming from missing my cousin and hurting for my family. Her death is still so painful.

This week has proved to be a test of my strength and ability to focus on my recovery. Tuesday I let my exhaustion override my desire to heal, and basically wasted my time with A. The only thing I think I really gained was that I was able to communicate that with her and realize the actions that led up to it, hopefully so that I can keep it from happening again. Part of what kept me from pushing myself is that I have been feeling very alone lately. I do not want to push myself into things that hurt as bad as they do without having someone there to comfort me. It's a vicious cycle. It is very hard for me to trust people with my emotions, yet I want them there.

As part of my homework for the week, I was asked to think of ways I can start reaching out to others and allow them to begin seeing my emotions. Trusting people with facts is one thing, trusting them with how you feel is something completely different. As previously written, I reached out to a friend at C.R. who has been very supportive. She has helped me feel as though I am not alone in this world, even if it is only once week for a few hours.

I went to C.R. on Thursday and sat in the back. I just wanted someone to notice me alone: a non-verbal way to describe how I was feeling. I was nervous about small group because I knew I needed to let some things out, but did not want to cry in front of everyone. I listened as others shared, taking bits and pieces of things that I could relate to and dreaded my turn. Finally, all eyes were on me and I began talking of how hard it has been for me in the past week to not push. I am not trusting God to put that person in my life, and I am trying to play God and do it myself. I think I do a pretty good job of letting my life flow the way it supposed to, but there are times that I am just convinced I am being short changed and will just push until I have no strength left. This is definitely one of those times.

I moved on to what I had recently discovered about my relationship with my dad. I explained to everyone that I had come to terms with the fact that I was not going to have the relationship I wanted with my dad a long time ago, but that I was just now realizing it was OK for me to be sad about that. And not only that, that I could also be hurt and disappointed for things he had done in the past. I told them of a paragraph I wrote in this letter to him about how excited I was when I found out M was going to move in because it meant that he didn't have to be alone, but it also meant that someone was going to pay attention to me. M always did, my dad rarely did. Realizing that if my dad had been there for me before M, I wouldn't have needed him to save me from M.

I didn't do such a great job holding back the tears. I imagine I was somewhat incomprehensible throughout my time, but I think I did a pretty good job letting others see my emotions, instead of just the facts. Baby steps.

After small group, our women's leader pulled me aside and asked me if I was coming to the leadership meeting. I believe "Hell no" was what went through my head, but I'm pretty sure I responded with "Uh.. no way!" I am not a leader. My main fear is that with a leadership role, the expectations that would be put on me would be too fast and too much. I see what the leaders do in this group and I am NOT ready for that. I told her that and she insisted I come anyway. I am by far the youngest person at C.R. (with the exception of one other guy) so it was very obvious that I stood out in that meeting. I kept asking myself "What am I doing here?!", while we were waiting for the head of the church to arrive.

Recently our C.R. group has gone through a lot of changes with our coord.inator being laid off. Ever since then the feeling has been different, to me at least. Things were not as organized. So with the shift of power was the need for a new team to be put into place. Once everyone arrived, we were told who was going to be in charge of C.R. now and what her goals were for our group. Using the CR group manual (as provided by Saddle.back church, the original starters of C.R.) she went through the 4 different teams that needed to be formed to make everything run as smoothly as possible. Immediately I looked at those teams and wanted to RUN AWAY. Most carried a year long commitment which freaked me out. In comparison to everyone in the room who were a good 10+ years into their recoveries, I was just an infant. How in the world did anyone think I was ready for this? The man sitting next to me was new to our C.R. group, only in attendance for 2 months and he spoke up. He said he was there because he wanted to help, but did not feel that he was seasoned enough to help in the ways that most jobs required. There was one job on the list that had very few requirements as it came to the intense work of helping others, and that was the job of the "Greeter". He volunteered for that position and said that he was looking forward to just being able to help the group by volunteering to be the smiling face at the front doors, telling newcomers where to go and introducing them to everyone.

God was giving me my window. I chimed in and thanked him for saying exactly what I was feeling. I volunteered for the same position and felt this huge weight lift off of my shoulders. It was replaced with a sense of connectedness and acceptance. I might not be ready for 95% of the jobs on that list, but I did know I could do this. God gave me the chance to take a risk. I had my mind and heart open to it and now I am feeling less alone than I have in a while.

So far, I'm liking this December.

Does a year change everything?

So it's been almost a year since I've posted.. and not much has changed. Life as I knew it completely fell apart the last 2 weeks of 2007. I could barely function, having constant panic attacks and extreme depression. I was put on medication and was able to pass as "functioning" to most people. Only C really knew what was up... and had she not been there for me, I probably wouldn't be here today. January, February and March were awful still. I continued going to counseling and made some progress but it was so hard. I never felt really connected to her, so I didn't share a lot of things I should have. April and May picked up and I started feeling more like myself. I was in Europe for half of the summer, and Cali.forn.ia for the rest. I finally started feeling more like myself! No panic attacks, no depression!

August rolled around and I had a new challenge. I was moved to a different department and had to "find myself" among a new set of co-workers. Thankfully they are a great group, and I absolutely love it (when I swore to myself I was going to hate it!!). Things were going good (as good as denial can be) until my grandpa died. C warned me that death has a way of bringing back things you think you have buried, but she was right... the PT.SD came back with a vengeance and I started having panic attacks again. I knew I needed to get back into counseling, but with someone new. She helped me research people who were trained in the type of trauma recovery I need, and I started seeing a new counselor the last week in October. Somewhere in the mix, I've found out that the PT.SD/anxiety has started triggering physical reactions. I passed out at work one week after having a sudden onset of rapid heartbeat and spiked blood pressure. Went to the doctor, bloodwork and MRI produce nothing. Had the same thing happen last week, had an EKG today and it came back completely normal but that leaves my subconcious triggering these physical reactions. I talked to my doctor about possibly being put back on anti-anxiety meds (since I stopped taking any medication in March) and she recommended I go see a psychiatrist. I'm going to think about it...

November was rocky... I hit one of the lowest points ever and contemplated checking myself into the hospital. I should have been talking to C, but I just couldn't. I'm sick of only having these awful, depressing conversations with her. I want to be able to be happy and not unload my burdens onto her. She has a lot on her plate too. Things are somewhat stagnant right now. I have good days and bad days, although this week has been touch and go. I had to excuse myself from a meeting to go in the bathroom to ride out a panic attack. Those days are not fun.

Christmas can't get here fast enough...

P.S. I've joined a new gym and will be working a new circuit in hopes to lose more weight. I've gained 15 lbs since I started my career in 2006 and I absolutely hate my body right now. Ugh.