I Could Skate Away

Oh I wish I had a river so long

I would teach my feet to fly

Oh I wish I had a river
That I could skate away on

Apparently I never learned how to grieve in the manner that other humans somehow instinctively know how to.

My therapist said it's like I have a river of grief inside of me that I have frozen solid so I don't have to feel it. And as we all know, that river is pretty full. There have been times when that river has overrun it's banks and threatened to drown me. It's what I do, respond to a loss and then pack it away and get back to the business of living, as I believed was expected. I didn't know that this would happen. I didn't know that one day, a future me would be brought to her knees by an enormity of grief and trauma that is still running rampant and unchecked through my nervous system. 

I am in the midst of the worst mental health crisis I've ever had. For someone with an ACE score of 7, with PTSD, and who has in the past been hospitalized for being suicidal, that is saying something. 

I'll spare you the gory details, but sometimes I forget what I am saying - in mid sentence. I have two months of laundry I still can't get to, and I am still waking up screaming - despite the new drugs my Doctor has put me on. I can't remember those dreams - all I get when I try to recall them is a black wall. My brain doesn't want me to see them. It's protecting me. 

Honestly I am terrified. 

What could be this horrific that my brain thinks it is best if I don't remember it? It lets me remember some pretty alarming trauma, often in vivid detail. So what can it be?

My therapist says I have to start letting the river thaw. I told him how much I was scared of that pain, and he reminded me that it always hurts to thaw out, but after the pain you feel better again. I appreciate this analogy, it works for me in understanding what I have to do to get better.

I'm terrified of how big the pain inside me is. I have a high tolerance for physical pain, and I've had my fair share of that. But this pain is so enormous. Sometimes it leaks out and even just that little bit feels so overwhelming. I don't know if I can survive it. 

I might die from this. Just skate away...

Death comes for everyone, doesn't it? 

But maybe, just maybe, if I am strong enough, this journey of grief will become a heroic tale of healing and recovery.