I’m supposed to be happy right now.
The week gone by has just seen the end of a wonderful and interesting blogging challenge that I curated and participated in, together with many other bloggers.
I enjoyed myself thoroughly. It was an energetic scene, the enthusiasm was contagious but I am strangely bereft of joy.
Why, you ask?
I’ve had a very rough week. Given the circumstances of the situation I cannot go into details. In fact, I won’t even be sharing this post on Facebook which is where most of my traffic comes from, because I just need to get this out of my head.
I’m in pain. I am in actual mental anguish, unable to sleep (which probably explains why I am blogging about this at 11 pm on a Monday night) and afraid to close my eyes for fear that the episode will play itself on loop in my mind’s eye. Cursing the fact that I have a vivid imagination is of little use at the moment.
Meditation helps, but in sporadic bursts.
Watching a comedy takes the edge off the anxiety but it doesn’t last.
The silence in the house, which I generally treasure, has become overwhelmingly claustrophobic.
I’ve been reading up on post-traumatic stress disorder and the symptoms as well as the relief measures are clear. Putting them into practice is quite a challenge though.
The one saving grace is I am able to get out of the house twice a day for my walk now but I return home and there’s that nameless fear all over again.
A part of me is very very angry with myself because I’ve considered myself a mentally strong person who survived depression and bipolar disorder and to be affected in this paralysing way by anxiety is a big defeat.
I know I shouldn’t be beating myself up. I say the same thing to countless others. And yet, I cannot help myself.
Just hope that I find the strength to come out of this loop soon. I need to, for my own sake.
*For those of you who may know what I am talking about, I request that you do not refer to it in the comments section in any way. Your support is appreciated.