Day 78

I’ve been an insomniac my entire life, and have battled with night terrors since my teen years, so I can’t blame the pandemic for this; however, surely the pandemic isn’t helping things. 

I nodded off while watching tv last night, only to wake up to take my meds & use the toilet then be unable to drift off to sleep again. 

I nodded off briefly, only to wake up in tears saying to my mother, “if you have the ability to be anywhere, why haven’t you visited me even once? Why can’t we say we are sorry NOW? Sorry that we wasted our precious time together being angry or jealous or resentful? Why won’t you give me in death what you were unable to give me while you were alive?” 

My eyes are tearing up as I type this. What is it going to take to make me whole again? What is it going to take to make me stop sobbing each day?

Day 77 Slogging Away At Self Care

This past weekend I went for my first pedicure since my surgery. My feet were pretty messed up, and I wanted my feet in better shape because I had a Reiki session the next day, after which, I came home and dropped off into a 3 hour nap. 

All things regarding the hip are moving along. Still can’t cross my leg & externally rotate my knee to put on socks yet. Yesterday my PT ran me through my paces. 

So far I have lined up a therapist who allegedly has a focus in trauma based therapy. And a couple days ago I found a psychiatric NP who I hope will be able to find a Rx that might help me manage my C-PTSD. Therapy is scheduled for Monday 10/3/22 and the NP is 10/7/22. A plan will be devised to help me manage my symptoms. 

Plenty more to transpire before I return to the office on 10/17/22, more PT, a visit with my kidney doc, an EMG/nerve root conduction test on my shoulder & elbow, and yet another follow up with my surgeon to see how I am doing. 

I am still anxious, angry, and sobbing every day, and I am acutely aware how unprepared my husband and friends are, and how unable they are to help me. I feel like I am sinking further into the abyss, and all I am getting is “I’m sorry,” or “don’t say that” or worse, toxic positivity. Trauma doesn’t respond to any of this. 

Two things can exist simultaneously. I miss my mom, and my mom was the source of a lot of my trauma. 

Her death & the isolation I still am doing (within reason, after all I did say I went for a pedicure—just me and the shop owners and we were all wearing masks) makes me feel more alone than I am, and it is breaking my spirit. Pretty much my siblings have forsaken me, and mom’s sister too. I CBT the hell out of this and remind myself it is just as well as they all are continuing to catch and transmit this virus that killed mom. And I wonder if I am already a ghost. How easy it is for my family to continue on, and I am barely even an after thought. 

I am sobbing again. 

Day 71 & “Summer of Self Care”

I’m wondering what kind of timeline I should keep regarding my hip replacement—100 days? 365? 

Physical therapy went well yesterday. Only a couple more sessions, and then I’ll be on my own. 

Yesterday I broke down & revisited the neuropsychology group from which I was seeing one of their therapists from February until April before I decided to discontinue as the therapist I had settled on/for was only reinforcing toxic positivity and was doing nothing for my trauma. 

I called yesterday, again, out of a sense of futility & desperation, hoping they had someone on staff who has a focus in trauma based therapy—and they do—and I set up my initial appointment. This was also convenient as I didn’t have to register again, and they participate in my insurance. So here we go again—hopefully this therapist has the chops to help me. 

Meanwhile, I am still waiting on a call back from the behavioral health group at a hospital near me, as I would like a consultation with a psychiatrist to find out what my options are regarding medication that might help me in this process. 

This week I received an email regarding a “mandatory training” session which is scheduled for the day after I return to the office. The training will have everyone crammed into a conference room—which, coupled up with the lack of masking or improvements in air quality in our office, just is a formula for disaster. 

I have been ruminating on this all week, getting anxious and tense, about something that hasn’t even happened yet. 

I don’t like to share too much personal shit with my boss, however, I eventually relented and replied to the email and merely asked if I would be able to sit in on the training at my desk, and that I’ve been diagnosed with c-ptsd and being in an enclosed space with others is going to be a challenge for me. My boss replied, “Absolutely.” 

She further suggested I reach out to HR regarding special accommodations, and that will be my next step once I have set up an appointment with a psychiatrist.

Day 69

Just filled with despair. Again. Hip is fine but the c-ptsd is kicking my ass as always. 

The process starts all over again, to find the “pink unicorn,” in this case a psychiatrist and a therapist who are taking new patients, accept my insurance, and either are local to me or offer zoom sessions. 

The never ending calling, then waiting for return calls which go no where. The constant seeking out new names. Wasting more time. 

I have been over-stimmed and distressed recently as the 38 year old husband of my cousin died suddenly. I woke up this morning in tears, after having a nightmare where I watched a boat my husband was on capsize. I woke up in tears, and in the nightmare I was convinced he died. 

I wish it were ME who died. I don’t want to exist anymore.  

Day 64

Wow! 64 days since my surgery, and it has been a while since my last update. 

I’m still working from home & doing two  PT appointments per week. I am managing 2000-3000 foot steps each day. 

“Neuro-muscular re-education” is the goal. As many foot steps as I am doing, I am still unable to lift and cross my leg to put my socks on. 

Had my follow up with the neuropsychologist regarding my psych eval. Finally got a diagnosis. Unsurprisingly, it is C-PTSD (complex ptsd). PTSD is often only a singular event (like 9/11 for example), whereas complex ptsd is a steady diet of trauma.  

Apparently my cognitive abilities & language aptitude was classified as superior.

Surprisingly, I wasn’t diagnosed as autistic. Apparently the uncertainty & worry I have regarding “how long is too long to have a conversation,” and my belief that most people just are too polite to stop me, actually is not autism, but self awareness. And given how self-aware I am, that also ruled out narcissistic personality disorders. 

My problem is I have a great capacity for language. I don’t engage in small talk—which actually bores me. Too many people operate on the surface, whereas I operate from a place of depth. I overwhelm people. 

So next step for me will be a consult with a psychiatrist to explore medication options, and line up a therapist who specializes in trauma based therapy.