Original post date: 16 December 2014
It's here. The eve I've been dreading.
I wanted to write this tonight because I don't want Woody's birthday to be darkened with my PTSD. But I had to get it out there. I hope people can understand.
All day I've been thinking about sitting on the antenatal ward, waiting. Waiting for a bed to become free. It never happened. Eventually we asked to be discharged on the promise of being induced the next day. The weather was horrible that day and I'm glad today has been a bright sunny day, so unlike this time last year.
I've also been thinking of someone who did have her baby a year ago today. If she's reading, I'm sorry. I had intentions of posting a card through her door for her son but chickened out, she's probably the last person she wants to hear from. But I think of her often, of the horrid things I said, of the way she made me feel, of my own issues which I projected onto her and the childish way I acted. And I'm sorry for all that.
I'm scared about how I might feel tomorrow. I so want to enjoy the day, it is, after all, Woody's first birthday. Something momentous, and joyous. But I'm worried I'm going to have these niggling thoughts in the back of my mind.
Really, it's the 18th I should be worried about. Maybe that's the day I should have my funk, enjoy Woody's day tomorrow, and be prepared for the sinking feeling come the 18th.
Woody was born at 11:47 (a time etched into my mind as it was the time I frequently woke in a cold sweat for weeks after his birth). So really, the shit didn't hit the fan until the early hours on the 18th. I should fear that date more.
And what is it I'm scared of? I think the flashbacks. They've been getting more frequent the last few days. The things that happened, the way I felt, the things I told myself. Like an out of/in body experience. As in, I can clearly, vividly remember lying there, under the blanket, being attacked with needles. And then of lying in HDU, the darkness of that ward, the painful surges of morphine through my veins. It is vivid. Really, fucking, vivid. It's real. It's become a really sad part of my life.
There are lots, LOTS of people who think I need to let go but I don't know how. I am seeking help for that though. I meet with a therapist on Friday to see if she's the right one to help me overcome not just this, but all the other things that have troubled me for the last 15 years of my life. If she's not the right one, I will carry on searching as I have to fix myself.
On a brighter note, I'm working on some lovely things to share the rest of this week, time will tell whether I find the time to bring them to fruition.