Yella Fella was diagnosed with diabetes three weeks ago. He gets insulin twice a day and I’ve modified his diet to only canned food. His blood glucose level is still high but I’m working with the vet to get him stabilized.
In typical C-PTSD fashion, it’s all my fault. I should have caught it sooner. I should have been more careful with his diet, I should be a better person, etc. There’s a never-ending supply of negativity to feed myself, and the behavior is so ingrained I don’t realize I’m doing it.
I am incredibly lonely but I have no clue how to relate to people. And then there are the seemingly endless triggers that shut me down when I am around people. Those are usually because something happens that makes me think that 1) they don’t care, or 2) my autonomy is not being respected (which sounds a lot like #1).
When I’m triggered I feel threatened, so I emotionally shut down and defend myself by either fighting or fleeing. This results in over-the-top responses (fighting) or physically or mentally leaving the scene (fleeing). Yesterday, for example, I was triggered twice (that I am aware of). Later when I’d calmed down I saw both were the result of my feeling threatened because I felt no one cared.
This is the down and dirty of healing. It sucks bigtime, and there’s no damn wonder so many of us choose not to go here. I don’t look down on them at all. Sometimes I wish I hadn’t started this journey. But here we are and as I’ve come this far, I may as well keep going.
Healing Some days I am invincible. I let no one stand in my way, using but a dismissive glance to hold all aggressors at bay Some days I am open, in tune, connected to all living things, welcoming warming energy with all of the healing it brings. But some days I am still hiding within this self-imposed prison where no one is allowed inside and I’m safe from their derision. You see, I simply don’t trust you. I judge you using the scars from yesterday’s multiple stab wounds. It’s unfair, I know, and seems dumb. But it’s become second nature to me and I’m having one hell of a time making the changes that would release me from this cell. It’s like I’m looking at you through plexiglass. I want to reach through and form some sort of connection, but I have no idea how to. I’m devising an escape plan. Patience is needed; it’s slow go, and I really don’t like waiting, still my workmanship is thorough. One day instead of standing near, I will let you stand beside me. I’ll let you touch my many scars and marvel at my heart’s beauty.