Every once in a while, someone gives both my censors a hefty dose of sedatives and, while they do not shut down completely and let any Voice around run free, they become very relaxed about what can and cannot be said. Everyone inside huddles around them waiting for their turn, for someone to ask something that sparks their side of the story. The censors aren't gone, and they won't let anything out that hasn't been asked for, but they will let anyone speak through them if they are called upon.
These moods are rare. They generally occur after a day where nothing fell apart and are more likely to happen when I am taking preventative measures for the anxiety rather than relief doses only. Yesterday, nothing fell apart.
The Shrink was in one of his moods where he is easily distracted and led into a different conversation and so all my extreme paranoia about what to tell him relaxed into a session where I learned more about him as a person than he learned about me as a client. (I don't think I'm a person to him; I'm a chart, a patient, a diagnosis, a client, but not a person. More on that some other time.) There were some tense moments but nothing catastrophic or deep. I walked out of there feeling good. Rather than going through 45 minutes of hell that would reach further into my life and plague me for long time, I had 45 minutes of wide varying and stimulating discussions.
At the coffeeshop, I was too cold to sit inside so I took my iced coffee and my Big Green Monster (my giant oversized messenger bag in which I carry most of my writing notebooks and binders and sometimes research materials or other supplies) and went and sat on the patio, in the shade, facing the long walkway of the strip mall. I put on my music and sipped my coffee and... couldn't think of a darned thing to write. I didn't have the papers I needed to work on my novel and I just couldn't think of anything to write. Tres bizarre, non? So, I just started reading some of the stuff in my notebooks, old stuff I'd written, plans for novels not yet begun, starters and prompts that had caught my eye... just anything. And I spent my whole time reading my stuff. Most if it I hated, some of it I liked, some gave me the shivers (I read through my "Tales to Freak the Shrink" file) and some made me wonder why I ever picked up a pen and thought perhaps I ought never to do it again... But the point is, it was relaxing and no pressure.
Then I went to Mom's. Everything there was business as usual and I hung out for several hours. We talked about a lot of nothing. She is heavy into her martyr role and thriving quite well there. So we sat around and I got a chance to run the skeleton of my novel, Child Immortal, past her. She didn't think it totally sucks, which I found to be half-heartedly heartening. The children, while a bit hyper, weren't absolute monsters, although everything they did got on her nerves, but that is nothing new. Eventually I gathered all the children and we headed home.
At home, nothing exploded, no one killed anyone, and nothing drastic happened. When Craig got home, nothing exploded (including him) and things went well. It was just another evening. I started working on the section sheets for my novel, I chatted with a few people, none of whom had any major tragedies or questionable loyalties. The little boys spent the night next door and the older kids didn't give me any trouble. They went to bed. Craig went to bed.
The day was over and it hadn't been a bad one. No major anxiety attacks. Still some flashbacks, no one noticed though. And I had been taking my xanax as prescribed rather than PRN, as I have been for the past several days, since I felt I would go out of my skin with the face behind my eyes all the time and the flashbacks making other people uncomfortable. So I was mellow. And I was strong. And when my mind touched on the weak spot in my Wall, I didn't feel like I was going to die. In fact, I could almost look at those weak spots, almost.
So finally I got the nerve to tell my friend (one of the only two people in the world that I trust enough to talk about this stuff to) that I was strong enough to talk, if he wanted to ask. He did. I answered. That's not the first time I've felt strong enough to look but that is the first time anyone has nudged me to actually do so.
I won't lie. (Duh, as if that isn't a given... *rolls eyes at self*) There were a few times that the questions burned into my heart. Voices piped up that I rarely hear from and even a few I don't remember ever hearing. Pictures flashed into my head that I didn't expect, didn't want and normally wouldn't have been able to handle without a strong panic attack accompanying it. A few of the questions were real gut-punches. I actually threw up once. I had to walk away, rush to the bathroom and throw up. It made me feel like a little kid, made me feel stupid. But I stayed strong and I coped and I continued. There was one particular Voice that the others seemed to turn to before they answered. They weren't looking for permission. Maybe they were looking for strength. And she would nod and give them a soft smile and they would answer.
It was intense. It hurt a bit. I felt like a limp rag doll when we were done talking. But I felt proud too. I had faced all of his questions and gotten the answers out. That's more than I've ever done in my life. Wow. Go me!!
But, there were side-effects I didn't expect. Should have. Only logical... Those pictures? They keep coming back. They are only still-shots but it's like being punched in the gut every time and it's happening a lot. Every time I close my eyes, there is a picture there. I try to push them away. I want them to go back over the Wall and stay there. Sometimes, someone will try to tell me the story of the picture but the others scream until the Voice shuts up. I will push them away. I will get them back over the Wall. I don't have to put up with this stuff. THIS IS MY HEAD!!
Note to Self: I need to recruit someone to keep a hold on Pyro. He is growing stronger and I fear losing control of him. I shall have to start taking applications... I need one of the strong ones but most of the strong ones don't overly care for me and would probably help him rather than stop him. I will really have to think on this. I can't risk getting into trouble again.
"If we shadows have offended,
"Think but this and all is mended
"That you have but slumbered here,
"Whilst these visions did appear."
The worst jokes I have ever written
13 years ago
