content warning: domestic violence, weapons, sexual assault I discuss my litany of problems with my therapist; major uptick in anxiety, more flashbacks, continued distress over Kevin. When we dig into the flashbacks I quickly grow distraught and begin to cry, so we prepare to work with them using EMDR. First I notice resentment over my … Continue reading Rage and Bob Dylan On A Warm Evening
I dream that I am standing in Kevin's kitchen. He's upset, bitterly ranting about how bad things have been for him since I last saw him. I feel his pain and go to him, tell him I'm sorry, hold out my arms. He comes to me; I hold him tenderly. That dream haunts me for … Continue reading Nightmares and Intrusive Thoughts, EMDR and Rage
There was a little nagging feeling when I first met him. I wasn't sure quite what it meant, except yes I was. It was the sense of a man who wants something I don't want to give him. It was the feeling given off by the man who raped me in New York. It was … Continue reading Vulnerability, Boundaries and My Totally Rational Fear of Men
When I ran Spartan Race World Championships in 2017, it was vicious. The altitude, the double ascent course and the sheer insanity of the amply amped-up obstacles for the occasion all contributed to the very worst performance of any race I've ever run. Lately I keep thinking of this one moment during the race. The … Continue reading The Searing Pain Of Failure; Interpersonal Dysfunction and Burpees
content warning: suicidal ideation I sit with my therapist and tell her how I came to end what felt like the healthiest relationship of my life in a way that was so out of character. I tell her about the paralyzing grief and anxiety, the confusion, my inability to focus on anything else. She digs … Continue reading The Decidedly-Not-A-Miracle Power Of Therapy
(...continued) content warning: suicidal ideation I love Kevin*. I think he is a miracle, but he is treating me like I don't matter and our relationship isn't worth the effort--and I am letting him. I kneel on the floor and re-read our text exchange from yesterday for maybe the thousandth time. I begin to type … Continue reading The Barometric Pressure of Unresolved Trauma (2/2)
I only get twenty minutes and I have to go slow. My closest friend goes with me. I'm occupied chattering with him and then there are these girls running the trail ahead of us. They're slow. I'm supposed to be running slow--I should stay behind them. I try to...