Withdrawal spiked yesterday and we were crying and inviting death. Spouse was attentive. That really helped us to survive. Spouse kept saying this is not permanent. It will pass. That is one fear: that it is permanent and won’t pass.
We slept a lot during the day. Nausea and dizziness walloped us. We tried to keep up with eating.
Today feels similar so we are trying to remain calm. We renewed taking the low dose of the last med. psychiatrist said to.
There is another crisis in our house, and Spouse and we are trying to address it.
Thoughts of dying as solution keep coming up for us. We try not to judge them. We are not taking steps to do anything, though we have imagined the completion multiple times. Violence doesn’t seem compatible with our values. And violence to self feels earned. We would like to someday unpack that more coherently. It’s not new.
We must have had a premonition the shit was going to hit the fan because we sent a one-word text to T-1 the day prior.
It read, “Marco…”
T-1 did not reply, “Polo,” as hoped. Instead, it was a text about respecting T-1’s boundaries. And a referral to a crisis line. We called the crisis line. It was not, in reality, a crisis line. It was some kind of county number, not staffed 24 hours.
T-1 also said, “I still care.” But we’re not T-1’s problem. Boundaries are an impediment in that relationship because they changed too often.
We reached out to T-2, who said what Spouse said, that this is not permanent.
So it’s probably not permanent. Even if it is, we would eventually adapt as best we can.
The other crisis is being addressed starting this Friday. We have little control and so would benefit by accepting that.
We are realizing we have few coping skills. We are almost med free. We are at high risk right now for unskilled action. So we reached out to a care coordinator to look for local hospitalization programs for trauma that are meeting in person.
It feels lonely to have so little mental health support. This is the least support we’ve had in years. We tried to get new therapists since last fall. We did not diced in adding anyone helpful to our care team. We are too different for most people to be able to or want to help us.
We tried to meditate yesterday. We still remember some of it. But we’re missing the big picture. Energy is low. we got off the meds to try to restore energy. That means we used to have energy. We used to approach healing vigorously. Strong work ethic.
Now, we are begging for help and we must have painted ourself into a corner because it feels like we have few options.
We will see what the care coordinator comes up with. We are not keen to travel very far due to fatigue. We are not very interested in life. We did not adapt to COVID life. And now we need to save ourself.
The nightmares can be so discouraging. The dissociations can be so depressing. The withdrawal is physically challenging. It’s a lot. You know?
Nice weather may allow us to see T-2 outside in cars for another week or two.
We planted some prairie wildflowers in the backyard. We haven’t tried that for several years. That is an act of hope, faith, restoration. Native plants, like the one that beats our heart and flowers in innocence deep within us hidden from the world’s prying hands and polluted air, have deep roots. They can scoff at sandy topsoil, lack of rain, lean times. They tap deep down into water stored in the clay layers.
Planting these is planting hope. Is they die, we can try again.