"It was good!"

6.22.26

Reflecting on a conversation I had with one of my doctors today...

(For context, I just got back from a 12 day work trip in Charlotte.)

My doctor asks, how was your trip?

Me: It was really good overall! I realized that being in the lab is still really triggering for me and couldn't stop thinking about how I was lied about and horribly fired from my last job. So that was interesting. My husband and daughter came to visit for a few days, so that was nice. Well, I got pretty sick then too. But that was okay. It was the longest I've been away from by myself. And I had some bad migraines, too, on top of being sick. But yeah, overall went really well!

Y'all.

This is me.

Every day of my fucking life.

I am a very unreliable narrator and I don't even realize it. I simply look over the difficulties as if they're not *actually* difficult and then wonder why the feck I'm so stressed all the time.

I really wonder how much of this correlates with alexthymia / interception issues / neurodivergent crazy brain.

Lost

6.20.26

I feel stuck. I am stuck. I'm -years of trial and error with all error and no more resources- stuck. 

Our situation is... unique? Delicate. Impossible to descrive simply, or at all. So difficult to understand, or even know, that it's taken literal years of therapy and reflection and... arriving at this place of utter emptiness... for me to begin to realize how truly difficult it's been. How utterly bankrupting. Isolating. Devastating. 

Not to be dramatic or exagerating in the least - I feel well and truly empty.

Broken. 

Lost.

And utterly incapable of finding my way forward.

I'm devastated, and I don't know how to -or even if it's possible to- find resolution. Healing. A future that isn't so steeply mired by this trauma. 

I hate that word.

Trauma.

Because some trauma is so blantant, it overshadows everything. Openly. Obviously. Irrefutably.

But there's another kind that comes in quietly. Deeply. Creeping up and taking root inside you, so slowly, so quietly. It becomes a part of your soul that feels so utterly, inherently a part of you. So deeply part of you.

Like the way children grow. From day to day they look the same. Then one day, it's suddenly apparent- you're taller! Or, you see an older picture of them and realize- oh, they've look so much younger then, so much more mature now- and you wonder, when did that happen?

That's how this trauma feels. Except, one day you blink and realize- oh, this is bad. Really bad. Really really so badly terribly, you wonder how this could have ever felt normal to begin with.

This reality that has grown so slowly and settled so deeply, so quietly, that it has felt normal all this time. So normal, that when folks ask you, "how are you?" You answer honestly, unintentionally an unreliable narrator, "Doing fine thanks!" ... "Oh you know, we're hanging in there! ... "Not too bad." ...

And now it's years later and you feel -and are- estranged in ways that are so devastating and feel so unfixable, you wonder, how did we get here? How was it always so bad and I never saw it clearly enough to ask for help. To let someone know, "we're drowning! We need help!"

Until one day, you wake up and see it clearly. Everything is broken. You've used all your resources. You have nothing left and no way forward. 

You are lost and empty and broken.  

And so very, very tired.