selva oscura (anonymousblack) wrote,
selva oscura

  • Music:

memory is a fickle siren song

it's a cyst. that and everything was absolutely fine. the amazing nurse was in fact there, did in fact explain everything, didn't give me a hug but heard me out - and believed me - about a bad experience i had at another clinic back in march. the first time i've ever reported (even sort of, because this was triage, not an official report) anything in that category, in fact. so. usually i just freeze up and shut down, you know, like i did in march.

on that front, i've started EMDR with my therapist. two sessions so far, and though i can't claim to have been set aflame with healing i've been increasingly able to do something i've never been able to do in memory: differentiate threat levels in a meaningful way. as long as i can remember, my reaction to any stressor felt like driving a car on a collapsing mountain rode when the brakes go out and the car is on fire. job interview? the car is on fire. lost in an unfamiliar neighborhood? the road is collapsing. someone staring at me on the subway? the brakes are out. my response to the potential for danger is my response to full tilt catastrophe. i'm quite imaginative and past experience has made me pretty much a professional horrible scenario builder, so especially over the course of the last ten or so years, if i'm not scared about something obvious i'm scared of something that might be about to happen.

on balance: i am perpetually at least kind of afraid. i'm always tensed. i'm always exhausted from being tensed. i don't sleep, i no longer drive, i struggle to trust people, i can't will myself into the present moment or witness past experience in a nourishing way. i don't know what i want. i'm always waiting for the next fucking horrible thing to happen and, yeah. welcome to humanity. there is always going to be a next fucking horrible thing, but there's also meaningful human connection and solace in nature and art and magic and laughter and just regular, enjoyable experiences of the world. at least that's what other people report. maybe i'll be able to get there myself, someday. in the meantime, EMDR, mindfulness practice and CBT. maybe it's starting to get better.

after my appointment wednesday, i started writing an essay about where i am right now. it feels significant. like, if i can keep my shit together long enough to get it written, it might be a breakthrough piece for me. like maybe, when it is finished, i'll start the submission process with what feels like a terrifying overshoot. like maybe it's time for me to stand down this terror of publishing my work.
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