I’m trying to be OK but I don’t know that I’m managing to be. I’m not in my head; I don’t know where I am but it’s not in my head. I have yet to be able to get in touch with mental health out of hours or (long story short my family see me doing that as me telling the world they’re not taking care of me. No matter how I’ve tried to explain that would be far from the case, I’m just not allowed the landline -you have to call from a landline and they call you back, it’s all such a rigmarole).
I am OK. Day to day it changes, as it does for everyone, I know. Nights are ...interesting, we shall go with interesting... Very erratic and dependant on so many factors, of which I have zero control.
When I manage to drift off it’s so horrible that I wake myself screaming -and my family, and possibly the neighbours and goodness knows what animals are thinking I’m some other creature’s dinner...
I’m trying to be OK but I’ve become more of a burden than ever. I most definitely don’t like the fact that everything seems so far-fetched that it cannot possibly be true; if my life over the last few years had been a soap plot line for one character there’d be mass outrage at the insanity of it. (Yet when it’s being lived there is no public outcry... Good God! Not that I’d want that! I just mean... I don’t know what I mean...) I’m sorry you know stuff. I’m sorry to add to the toxicity of this world by just being in a room and people knowing things. It feels like everyone knows everything but I know that’s not the case. Very few people actually know and I’ve not spoken about it (with the exception of having given a statement-where two police officers and an appropriate adult(!) appeared at my door and I dissociated so badly that I have almost no recollection of any of the SEVEN HOURS I was with them!)
Dissociation is both good and bad.
My inability to recollect specifics is telling me he is a stranger; my ‘dreams’ are not...
No comments:
Post a Comment