Too Optimistic... and Useless... Or Maybe Not

My surgery has gone well, but my equilibrium has yet to be restored. I think I’m going to need a few more weeks to feel normal enough to get back to my personal routine. I’ve been too optimistic thinking I could get back to normal within days. Obviously, that’s not what’s happening here.

I really, really wish I wasn’t so… fucking fragile in some ways! Why can’t I just bounce back from this shit?

But… the truth is that I’m not feeling right again yet. I haven’t felt okay since my major panic attack. I know that panic attacks causes a massive biochemical storm, and it’s like I’m… shaky and exhausted all at the same time ever since. My patience is for shit. I’m hiding in my room a lot.

I’m not proud of this, but I can’t wish myself to normalcy. I have to nurture behaviors that heal. The world doesn’t have time for that– or rather, our corporate-controlled culture doesn’t advocate for such things. But I’m already fairly useless!

But not completely… I have my wee, new pagan group to focus on, and I’m helping a friend get out of an abuse cycle. It’s like counter-programming to what she was taught as a child. I’m saving some of our correspondence with her permission so I can remember what helped and what didn’t if I am ever in this position again. Thus far, she’s pulling out of the habit patterns that lead to submitting to an abusive partner.

I’m feeling pretty proud of that, actually. For once, my intervention made a difference! I think of the thousands of hours I’ve spent on the phone with Robin, and I managed to get her away from the sociopathic asshole who held her hostage for two years, but I couldn’t break her away from her husband that turned abusive as a form of retribution for her daring to leave him for another man during that time. Apparently, what she suffered wasn’t enough as far as he’s concerned. With the Hashimoto’s Disease she has now, Robin’s husband’s bullshit is killing her. It’s so disheartening. I leave the door open, but I haven’t been trying to call her for the last few months. She nearly never calls me back. And she never initiates contact, so… what am I to do there?

So you can imagine I had next to no confidence my words and ways could inspire anyone else to leave an abuser. And I know there’s a good chance that Amara will return to her boyfriend Shaun, if only partially out of misplaced guilt, at least a couple of times before she’s out enough that it’s really and truly over between them. I understand the pattern. When you are unloved and abused as a kid, you don’t know how wrong it is to allow people to treat you badly. You think some part of you deserves it. And fighting against that false belief is an uphill climb no one can do very successfully alone. At least I can understand and not victim-blame, since I’ve been there myself, although not as harshly as I know Amara and Robin have dealt with in their fucked up relationships. Still… even emotional abuse from Gerick has been enough for me to get how hard it is to detach, even from someone whose behavior means you should hate them forever and want nothing more than to get away.

Still– just that alone has taken up so much of my mental space. I couldn’t ask my mother and sister’s issues to wait until I was better. It’s the same thing with Amara– a crisis that I had no choice but to show up for, no matter how tired I was. I managed to step up and help others, but there is a price I’m paying for it given my limitations. I’m happy I’ve managed to squeak by thus far, but I know I need time to heal before diving in again.

The clock is ticking…