I don’t remember much of my childhood.
The memories I do remember are best kept hidden deep inside.
They swirl around my insides like a whirlpool of dead stars into a black hole.
But my dear reader, I can’t hide them anymore.
It’s all too much.
These dead stars poison my body and soul.
Please take them from me.
Reach into that black hole and hold them for awhile.
And then, please stay awhile.
I cannot be left alone with them, again.
my brain is lacking dopamine
everything feels like a dream
in the mist of serotonin–noradrenaline
i start to wonder who really is genuine
Over the last year, after losing my Mom and my two cats all within the year of one another, I have had nightly nightmares that have me re-live the worst times in my life thus far.
My dreams consist of seeing my mom pass away, become sick, or injure herself.
Last night, she choked and had a seizure in front of me.
My dreams consist of nightmare scenarios: being stuck in the ocean, shark attacks, losing friends and loved ones, falling from high altitudes, plane crashes…..
Last night, I fell through the sky, off of a skyscraper, and I felt it. I felt the roller-coaster feeling for a long time.
Will I ever recover? Will these ever go away?
I’m stuck in my trauma, awake and asleep.
I am sorry you felt the need to binge tv shows nightly and eat fast food to soothe yourself.
You stopped seeing friends except on the weekend when you would get wasted.
I am sorry you slept with numerous men who did not care about you.
(Remember the one who slept with you, took your cigarettes and then left and never talked to you again? Shout out to Kyle from Longmeadow, Mass. You reignited my trauma, yet I feel sorry for you. I saw those sadness in your eyes. I hope you are ok.)
I am sorry you let your mother, who loved you and who you loved very much, to control your emotions like a light switch….so badly that self harm and disordered eating became a part of your life.
I am NOT sorry for these experiences. They taught me lessons.
I am sorry for the hurt they caused my sensitive soul though.
Now, we will heal, but it’s up to me when.
When?
I don’t know.
I am unsure if I will live through these addictions. The addictions of life. These addictions keep me going, keep me living, keep me surviving. The happy moments I have had these past years has been manufactured by a chemical substance. How will I ever be able to experience something that instantaneous happiness that GREAT again?
What is it like waking up under no influence of a pill, an herb, or a toxin? What is it like waking up like when I was a little girl?
The little girl before trauma. The little girl who wanted her bottle, her blanket, her Baka. The little girl who was robbed of her childhood and yet forgives those who robbed it from her.
Oh, that little Kayla was such a sweet soul. She had no hate in her body. She had love. The hate came later on disguised as rage. Rage against being forced to grow up without feeling completely nurtured.
Sadly, I do not see waking up as my natural self ever again in my lifetime.
I have been trying to get off of the fake love of my life, cannabis concentrate, for the last few years.
I have worked with substance abuse teams, therapists and group sessions.
I am now in an intensive DBT program at this place I’ve received all of my care. In order to be in the program, it is required you see one out of three of their doctors.
I’ve been seeing Dr. I* for over a year. Overall our relationship was cordial. She has a heavy accent and sometimes I can’t follow along with what she is saying, and I end up letting it brush by because, well, I have social anxiety.
Today, I came into the session planning to inquire why she dropped by antidepressant dose in half overnight, and maybe that is why I am struggling weaning off of 1gram of cannabis concentrate.
My partner was sitting next to me when after I approached the subject and let her know my feelings politely, Dr.I basically said “we have tried everything and at this point we are back at square one.”
Square one? I’ve been busting my ass getting clean. I gave up nicotine and alcohol! Why does she just seem to always tell me, “you just need to stop.”
That doesn’t work. Period.
To Be Continued.
“I do not sleep because I am not only afraid of the monsters at my door, but also of the monsters my own mind can conjure. The ones that live within.”
Samantha Shannon, The Priory of the Orange Tree
When a mental health professional that you’ve been working with leaves, it can feel devastating.
These people can provide what we never had.
Validation, reassurance, appreciation and love.
When they leave, it can feel like we are no longer validated, reassured, appreciated, or loved.
What we can try to remember is the gifts they have left.
They left us with new skills, new ideas, new outlooks.
They gifted us with a new way to travel on the road called life.
And while we can feel grief, sadness and whatever emotions come up over them leaving, we can carve out some time for gratitude.
For without these professionals, our lives can feel lonely, unreal and incomplete.
So, today, I am sending love and kindness to my particular mental health professional that is leaving in a few weeks.
Thank you.
Thank you for being there while I stopped drinking, and when I grieved for my mother. Thank you for coming into my life. Thank you for always validating me and providing me with comfort and laughs.
Thank you for teaching me about death and dying and your times in hospice. We knew my mom brought us together somehow.
“I appreciate you…especially your heart.” —Anonymous
Unlike other forms of psychological disorders, the core issue in trauma is reality
Bessel A. Van der Kolk, Traumatic Stress: The Effects of Overwhelming Experience on Mind, Body, and Society
“The world is indeed full of peril, and in it there are many dark places; but still there is much that is fair, and though in all lands love is now mingled with grief, it grows perhaps the greater.”
Haldir, J.R.R. Tolkien, Lord of the Rings
