Last night I cracked my head on the floor.
It was the first panic attack I’ve had in over ten years.
Maybe it was in light of recent events. Perhaps it was a whole host of mess that’s been building up for a while.
All I know is I have to write this here & now to get it out of me and into my safe place here.
I’ve been planning on sharing over at Stories about PTSD, since I had never spoken in-depth about it before. The little bit I have shared though, has helped people along the way.
I got a phonecall a few days back from my sister who lives many states away. The voice on the other end was desperate.
She wanted to move back up here to her original home, but I’d have some convincing to do on her behalf with some family members.
She’s been abusing drugs and engaging the kind of behavior where she could end up dead.
Her erratic/nervous tone over the phone had me sensing this wasn’t going to go right.
She sounded just like my mother at a certain point in time and it frightened me. It also took some of my old wounds and yanked them right back open.
The worst part was another family member’s reaction. It hurt them. Deeply. I think this is what put me over the edge.
Needless to say no one feels comfortable bringing her up here. Though we still want to help her someway/somehow.
She just has to truly want the help.
Before I could talk to family members, she posted some drug-infused rant on her Facebook page saying most of her family with the exception of me never cared about her. She went on & on. Of course people saw it. I’ve always told her watch what she blabs out there on the internet.
Now, I can’t hold back.
This may seem insensitive and selfish.
Until I cracked my head on the kitchen floor from the weight of it all.
I started hyperventilating out of nowhere for about five seconds, my vision blacked out, and I went down like a load of bricks.
When I came to
my name was being called & I was being asked what happened.
My son and his father had seen me go down quickly, but it was one of those things you couldn’t stop.
My legs were shaking. I was shocked and embarrassed. I started sobbing hysterically like a two year old.
I was a blubbering mess.
My son was concerned. “Mom did you slip? Are you okay? You hit your head really hard.”
I’m okay now.
Aside from my tail bone, elbow, ankle, and head hurting like hell.
But what do you do? When your anxiety that you thought was dealt with, comes back and bites you in the ass this hard?
I think its time to go back to therapy.
I’m not going to let this knock me down.
I’ve got way too many great things to share with you this 2016.