The past trauma that resurfaced with my birth fathers death was never something I would have imagined happening. Interesting enough, I had fantasized many times (even in recent months) that he died. Sometimes, in those day dreams/wishes it was a horrible painful death just as hurt those around him.
I had the opportunity, and still do, to work extensively on the abuse/trauma at his hands. As I work with my massage therapist on the mind/body portion of healing and with my therapist, I am sure that healing will come in due time. When I am ready.
At this moment, I sit in my recliner trying to make sense of some of this stuff. I woke around 2am (pretty normal these days) in a world of pain. As I laid in bed, for the first time in a few weeks, I tried to make sense of what the thoughts and feelings that were surfacing. Initially thinking I woke because it was the usual time at night and I was due up for pain medication. I laid there for a few moments, noticing what my body was telling me. Trying hard to NOTICE everything about that moment...why I was awake.
This is just a 'little bit' of the thoughts that raced in and out of my thinking...
Is it positional?
Is it pain in my shoulder or low back? or both?
What kind of pain?
Do I really need to take pain medication? Would plain tylenol work?
Should I try to move position. No, medication is needed. Shit, I can't move my fingers again bc they are numb. Damn this is positional.
As I sit up there is pain EVERYWHERE. I hear R*'s voice.
He can't hurt you. He's dead. Remember?
As I continue to get out of bed...noticing the overall heavy feeling that my entire body has. I waited to take pain medication. Trying hard to silence the mind. Thinking over and over how incredible shit face that these feelings/thoughts are.
By this time I'm fully aware that I do need to take something for pain. My shoulder is screaming and it isn't just the mind/body/trauma piece that is screaming. It is...time for me to take medication. So I do. And I make my way to my recliner.
There are specific memories that woke me up. I'm pretty sure they are connected with the overall pain I experienced upon waking up. Which happens often. I'm not sure what to think or how to feel about some of the the different memories that continue to surface.
It is nearly an hour and half later and I am still wide awake. I shouldn't be wide awake. The combination of medication should have been enough to make me fall asleep.
Mixture of not feeling safe. I check the doors and make sure they are all locked. I have convinced myself that maybe R* really didn't die. He is a sneaky bastard. He's not been out of jail less than a year. I'm sure he had some other reason he got in trouble and was due back in jail. Why not fake your own death? Rational thinking, I know. What can I say...it is nearly 4am. And I've had 2 hours of sleep. I know he is no longer living. I have received the Medical Examiner's report and cause of death. And I'm reminded all the more reason why I really REALLY really need to stop taking narcotic pain medication.
I don't resort to taking a hot bath or any other sort self harm behaviors. Which, in many ways is progress. Regardless of the suicidal ideation, negative self talk, and all over hopelessness that comes along with the shame and guilt associated with this shit. I didn't resort to some of the things that easily numb out that pain.
Stronger by Kelly Clarkson comes on the radio that I have playing on my radio. I'm reminded as I listen to this song and write this blog post at the same time that I have a therapy appointment with Jodi in a few hours. And I really need to get some sleep and the need to silence my mind is really important.
Hopefully, this middle of the night random ramblings and purging of thoughts will assist in some of the silencing that is needed.
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