Recovery notes once again

[jamesG.1]

Not been on here in an age, simply no personal space in life these days.

Progress is still ongoing, tho with C-PTSD still lurking as per usual.

My big thing now has been dealing with successive waves of depression rather than the panics of old. I think this is a natural part of the recovery, you put out the house fire, but the smoke and water damage leave you with a ton of work. Realising how little of my old life I could bring with me is a brutal realism, it seems like lockdown emphasised the separation hugely, and I'm left with little more than 5% of my old friends. Mostly they have just drifted out of range, but many have been "got at" or have taken sides, and there's nothing much I can do about that now. It's a profound loss I feel constantly. I NEEDED these people.

I also let people go I shouldn't have. I went from needing desperately to talk to people to being very wary of it. I grew tired of that look in the eyes, the disconnect that came from trying to explain things that were so outrageous and unfair that you simply made yourself look useless and guilty of exaggeration, even though you weren't even close to doing them justice. So I stopped.

Recently I went onto a proper anti-depressant for the first time since 2015 and this time it did its job. But unless I live like a monk, it bites back, and during a very busy period of work, it's been struggling to hold back the doubts. I've been exhausted, and if I so much as glance at red wine, I'm on the floor. Life plans are on hold for now; my creative projects, always such a pressure valve, are gathering dust. It's tough. It's demoralising. When will it ever just stop?

On the plus side, I'm looking at gaining a part-time role, and that will really lift the pressure. Time to think, hopefully.

Lockdown was tough, grinding relationship engagement when I craved isolation, silence, and thought. But this would have been suicidal, I think, the relationship is good for me. My partner is loyal, fiercely so, pushing for my happiness and stability... realistic. But this illness craves that perpetual licking of wounds, the sort of introversion that kills relationships stone dead. I've held it off, talked myself down a million times, but I'm tired. I've lost the person I liked being, and I just can't find the peace I desperately need to track him down. The real me is like some WW2 Japanese soldier in the jungle, unaware the war is over, still fighting in rags three decades after everyone else went home.

From the outside, it looks like wallowing, living in the past, not wanting to heal, but it really isn't. Your brain is injured, your trust has gone... you simply can't think straight. Sometimes I feel I've totally got it licked, then wham, I'm back in the harness, pulling thirty tons of rock up a hill with a face like under-cooked ham.

I band I loved, still do... had a song which I think sums it up.

I am angry, I am ill and I'm as ugly as sin
My irritability keeps me alive and kicking
I know the meaning of life, it doesn't help me a bit
I know beauty and I know a good thing when I see it
This is a song from under the floorboards
This is a song from where the wall is cracked
My force of habit, I am an insect
I have to confess I'm proud as * of that fact
I know the highest and the best
I accord them all due respect
But the brightest jewel inside of me
Glows with pleasure at my own stupidity
This is a song from under the floorboards
This is a song from where the wall is cracked
My force of habit, I am an insect
I have to confess I'm proud as * of that fact
Used to make phantoms I could later chase
Images of all that could be desired
Then I got tired of counting all of these blessings
And then I just got tired
This is a song from under the floorboards
This is a song from where the wall is cracked
My force of habit, I am an insect
I have to confess I'm proud as * of that fact
This is a song from under the floorboards
This is a song from where the wall is cracked
My force of habit, I am an insect
I have to confess I'm proud as * of that fact

Then I just got tired. That's exactly where I am. The big thing now is deciding to sacrifice income for personal time. My partner wants me to do it, but I'm wary. Financial abuse was a huge part of my trauma, having my personal security blackmailed into oblivion by a manipulative alcoholic trapped between conflicting financial obligations as my income collapsed. Deep down, I feel that anything but acceleration and effort in work and income will end in disaster. It's very deep. Trusting what my partner is saying is a huge ask. But she's right, I will die at my desk if I don't ease off.

Just so emotionally tired. It's been a long, long road.

[Kizzie]

Just so emotionally tired. It's been a long, long road.

In the same space myself James so sadly I don't have any wise words, just sending along a little comfort and support. 

[Armee]

Good to see you back, James. Your post was a really eloquent description of what it's like. 

In the past year, I left my career to live off the proceeds of selling my mom's house. It's scary and there's definitely the feeling I *should* save that money and let it grow instead of depleting it. I also wonder if I'll be able to find a career again or have the capacity to work.

But nothing could have been better for my ultimate healing and health than giving myself that break.

[Blueberry]

Hi James, thanks for updating. Good luck with however you move forwards

[woodsgnome]

What? You haven't reached the hallowed halls of Valhalla as of yet? Me either, and the best days are when I don't even entertain the possibility of finding a smooth enough equilibrium that feels entirely safe and/or comfortable. If it does, just wait -- those floorboards will release yet another phobia, or two or more.

I never acquired a yen for money, at all; it just seemed like a tool used to grind people down. Didn't stop me from finding ways to develop and then share an outlook with many people. A core of them became dear friends and now, like you, they've drifted away from my vicinity, many via death. I wish I had the luxury of a partner, but that too eluded me. And somehow, in the midst of chaos from recovery and grief, I ended up with enough money to buy land and build a place.

The major goal was a non-goal (somehow I also surrendered lots of goals along the way) and I've done okay with it. Stop me, though, for going on about 'me'. I just use that to point out that you're neither alone nor helpless in these new, post-habitual, hints of a new life you are developing, consciously or not. May you find a steadier route, despite the setbacks and even while not being sure of where you're going. There may be a surprise, a good one, ahead if you stay the course called recovery, frustrating as it sometimes seems.

Wishing you the best road ahead