So says my trauma therapist. I was/still am living through a horror movie, written specifically for me. Buckle up, this is a looooong one.
It took my job, my education by forcing me to drop out before i could start my bachelor's, my financial stability by leaving me 200 dollars overdrawn, I lost 20 pounds, I lost my autonomy, and a suspicious amount of hair comes out when I comb it. I've been in a race to the bottom since mid April and never realized it until I finally crashed.
Every class I had to drag myself to because it was getting harder and harder to go, every milestone I burnt myself out to still hit like award dinners, college graduation and even going to work still after having been in the ER not even 5 days prior in a quite frankly horrid state, was accompanied by a giant, swelling, dark cloud that I couldn't see, but that I could still feel, until one day I found my final resting place among the 4 walls of my disgusting room, left dirtied because I couldn't find the strength to clean it. And I rotted, for months. My world lost color and purpose.
I had to endure 12 hours of a sweltering 80° room after my power went out on the 4th of July because I couldn't get out of bed. I didn't even sleep because I had to stay up misting myself with a spray bottle because I had lost the ability to sweat. To add to that, my stupid fucking sister fled to a guy she JUST MET because he still had power, and left my 18mo niece here who because absolutely fucking inconsolable because she wanted her mom, she was scared of the fireworks, and after 8pm it was pitch dark in the house, and then MY mom using the last of my phone battery to try and call her to demand she come home.
Countless ER visits, and medical specialists, and so many blood draws that I've got tracks on my arms.
5 months later, after whatever series of foul fucking viruses I caught caused my own immune system to go fucking nuts and turn on me, can I now finally somewhat exhale. The loud thumping when I stand is gone, the floor moving when I stand is gone, my autoantibodies have dropped down to an undetectable state, I can eat what I want when I want (but not quite how much I want yet), and i even managed to get a fucking job. My nerologist described the lingering symptoms as "background static" that I need to wait for to clear out before a return to normalcy without POTS. But, I am so utterly fucking traumatized from the events of the last 5 months that none of that really matters. I am still that woman stuck in a hot room completely fucking helpless and ready to be consumed by heat exhaustion. The work I put in to even get to a state of being able to just get up and go without thinking feels trumped by the SHEER HORROR OF EXISTING that took place before and during.
I live in the past I remember for some reason, and because let's be honest, If I remembered anymore than I do now I would become hysterical. Thank GOD I don't remember much else from when I was at my worst. I don't want to.
There's still so much I can't do yet. I can't mall walk, can't walk around and grocery shop, can't go to my favorite museum, I cant go to the beach while it's still warm enough to because im not sure I could handle the long walk from the parking lot to the shore, I can't even walk around the block, I have to practice walking laps in my house while every alarm bell is screaming at me to sit down, not because I feel anything, but because I am SO fucking traumatized that I can't trust my own body to handle a return to normal boring shit.
I miss the beach. I miss living in full color. I miss thriving, not just hitting metrics like "walked for 3 minutes today and felt fine, had x amount of salt". These metrics, albeit important, do not make me happy even though I thought they would. What is it I even really want anymore? Cuz I'll tell you one thing, I will never be the same person mentally ever again. That's not happening.