If you read yesterday’s post, you’ll understand why today’s article is titled the way it is. I have these photos sitting on my desktop for easy access and I’m starting to think that this has become a form of self-torture.
I don’t know what to do with them. I can’t delete them because I’ll need them for the book. Posting them yesterday was hard enough. I’ve tried very hard not to look too closely. Just posting them was enough to make me have to take deep breaths and remind myself that I’m not that mangled, freakish subhuman thing anymore.
I try to console myself with the thought that it was only a temporary thing. But that temporary thing very nearly killed me. I’m still fairly certain that, for a time, I had suffered from a nervous breakdown or two…or three. I KNOW I was deeply clinically depressed. Otherwise I never would have had a plan to kill myself.
When I look at those photos it all comes rushing back and oh gods…how did I EVER survive that? Right now, as the title indicates, I want to throw up. My hands are shaking and I’m fighting back the tears. As soon as I get this posted I’m going to go curl up in a little bitty ball and have a good long cry.
You see, my main coping mechanism through all of this has been avoidance. I’ve been like a small child with her fingers crammed in her ears yelling “LALALALALA I CAN’T HEAR YOU!! LALALALALA!!” I didn’t look at my chest unless I had to. I tried to distract myself with other thoughts when I washed myself. Half the time it was futile and I’d end up curled up in a small ball sobbing.
Those photos brought it all back.
It’s not as bad as when I was going through it. But that sense of horror and hopelessness still sits on my heart, chilling it like frost on autumn leaves. I still don’t know how I made it through. Yes, writing about it helped keep me sane and my husband should receive whatever medal they give for courage under fire. But that still doesn’t give me the answer I’m looking for.
Maybe it wasn’t just one thing. Maybe it was all those somethings.There was probably more as well. My friends. My family. My readers. The amazing people who have taken the time to thank me for telling this story.
For all of that, I am grateful. I couldn’t have made it here without all of you.
Thank you for reading my story. Thank you for learning from it. Thank you for telling others about it so that my readership keeps growing. So that I can keep telling my story. So that others can learn from it.