Healing from any kind of depression or psychological hurt is never linear.
(Insert favorite swear words here), it should be.
Last evening, from about 6 to 8:30, I had an attack of crying and anxiety that just wouldn’t quit. It makes me so angry. It makes both Mark and I feel so defeated. Especially because it seemed to come out of nowhere. I could list a bunch of possible reasons, but I have no idea which, if any, or all in sum, or none, were really “responsible” for the attack.
What will March be like? What will August be like? What will next year be like?
free of fear?
I ended up taking two Ativan — one at 8 when I managed to get in touch with Denise and she said it was okay to do so, and another at 10 to go to sleep, even though they’re usually supposed to be six hours apart.
It helped — the rest of the evening I was pretty calm.
This morning I still feel tired, though I slept pretty well. And the weight of apparent defeat is heavy on my already tense shoulders.
Joe says it would be easier, better, if I could just accept where I am in each moment… but it is just not easy to accept this nonlinearity. I guess I should accept that I am mourning the linearity that cannot be.