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3,138 Posts
You know that song "The Sounds of Silence" by Simon and Garfunkel? The words keep resonating in my brain lately.<br><br>
"Hello darkness, my old friend<br>
I've come to talk with you again<br>
Because a vision softly creeping<br>
Left its seeds while I was sleeping<br>
And the vision that was planted in my brain<br>
Still remains<br>
Within the sound of silence"<br><br>
The darkness is creeping in to my life again, has found the way in even through everything I've been doing to work on what happened. Everywhere I turn I find that I see/hear/feel my uncle there. I've been doing some pretty intense work with my psychiatrist, am on multiple medications, have been going to <a href="http://www.siawso.org/" target="_blank">SIA</a> meetings weekly. I've been writing nearly every day in hopes that getting it all out on the page will help me to rid it from my life. It isn't working.<br><br>
My sleep is so poor that I literally don't know how I make it through any one day. I wake up dozens of times a night from nightmares that seem as real as anything happening in my life today. I've got wonderful IRL friends who know most of what I've survived and they are fabulous. I worry so much about wearing them out though that I only ask for help when I am past the point it is likely they will be able to help. I feel so damn needy that I make myself physically ill. There have been a few times in the last three months that I've questioned if I should be in a hospital or not. The honest truth is I don't know. Talking about it with my psychiatrist isn't particularly helpful either because she just asks me where I think I need to be.<br><br>
I wish there was someplace I could go to spew out *everything*. Every fucking little thing that happened, that I fixate on, that I remember and relive. I don't know where this place is though. I've talked with my psychiatrist about starting EMDR and she says that right now it seems anything in addition to what I'm already doing could put me over the edge. I want to tell her I've been over that edge for some time now. I want to, but I can't. I bring her bits and pieces of what I've written throughout the week and read it to her. Some of it is too intense for me to read so she reads it outloud. When she does, sometimes I don't even recognize what I've written as something that happened to me. I wonder if that makes me crazier. I want to ask her if I'm insane. I feel like I am. I feel lost and I don't know how to get back to *me*. I don't even have a clue.
"Hello darkness, my old friend<br>
I've come to talk with you again<br>
Because a vision softly creeping<br>
Left its seeds while I was sleeping<br>
And the vision that was planted in my brain<br>
Still remains<br>
Within the sound of silence"<br><br>
The darkness is creeping in to my life again, has found the way in even through everything I've been doing to work on what happened. Everywhere I turn I find that I see/hear/feel my uncle there. I've been doing some pretty intense work with my psychiatrist, am on multiple medications, have been going to <a href="http://www.siawso.org/" target="_blank">SIA</a> meetings weekly. I've been writing nearly every day in hopes that getting it all out on the page will help me to rid it from my life. It isn't working.<br><br>
My sleep is so poor that I literally don't know how I make it through any one day. I wake up dozens of times a night from nightmares that seem as real as anything happening in my life today. I've got wonderful IRL friends who know most of what I've survived and they are fabulous. I worry so much about wearing them out though that I only ask for help when I am past the point it is likely they will be able to help. I feel so damn needy that I make myself physically ill. There have been a few times in the last three months that I've questioned if I should be in a hospital or not. The honest truth is I don't know. Talking about it with my psychiatrist isn't particularly helpful either because she just asks me where I think I need to be.<br><br>
I wish there was someplace I could go to spew out *everything*. Every fucking little thing that happened, that I fixate on, that I remember and relive. I don't know where this place is though. I've talked with my psychiatrist about starting EMDR and she says that right now it seems anything in addition to what I'm already doing could put me over the edge. I want to tell her I've been over that edge for some time now. I want to, but I can't. I bring her bits and pieces of what I've written throughout the week and read it to her. Some of it is too intense for me to read so she reads it outloud. When she does, sometimes I don't even recognize what I've written as something that happened to me. I wonder if that makes me crazier. I want to ask her if I'm insane. I feel like I am. I feel lost and I don't know how to get back to *me*. I don't even have a clue.
