I’m supposed to go to an appointment today. It’s currently 05:50 am and after an entire night of tossing and turning, I have to begrudgingly face the sinking and squirmy feeling in my gut. I feel as if a train is fast approaching me and I’m too transfixed in fear to move. I know what’s going to happen; I’m going to think about the people who are expecting me (psychologist +dietist) and how I’ll let them down.I’m going to let loose a barrage of reasons I must go, despite my emotional state. Reasons that use my feelings and mental state as punching bags, as dirt to be kicked, as scum to be swept away. And that would only reinforce my resistance and cue a complete shutdown that would last a couple of days.
For a little over 11 years, I’ve been an emotional refugee in my own body, seeking asylum in far-fetched fantasies of a better tomorrow. Escapist dreams fuelled by my gruelling perfectionism that posits that if I work hard enough to fight myself, I’ll become ok again.
Only now, since a few days ago, is it dawning on me that accepting status quo isn’t the same as healing it. All this time I’ve been focused on going through the motions of mindfulness, of accepting and letting go of resistance, all the while being focused on the wrong direction.
I had my back turned towards the train and although I was doing everything right…I was being screwed over and over again but always believing that the train was coming at me wrong. I was demanding that because I had done everything by the book, the train shouldn’t come from behind me but from the opposite direction. I hadn’t, and couldn’t, entertain the notion of turning around.
I almost enjoy the pain of being bedridden for days or weeks on end by muscle rigidity brought on by a fibro flare. The empty pain of boredom. The PTSD flashbacks that would seemingly transport me back to my nightmares. I feel like I deserve it. I’ve come to create a symbiosis with my demons and I don’t know how to function without them. If I’m being beaten, then worse things can’t happen. But if I’m happy and in the clear…the worst things possible will happen.
I deserve suffering, I feel, but that’s just a pretext to avoiding my life. I’d rather jump to (the worst) conclusions than expose myself to the unnerving limbo of exploring and learning.
I’d rather hibernate until I die, than wake up each day with the dread of dying.