Imagine having the pressure of boulders constantly on your back. College, employment, finances, dying dad, your own mental illness, teetering on divorce or fixing your marriage, living alone for the first time, really working on yourself and trying to rebuild all the damage and carnage your abuse left in your life.
I'm 28 and I wake up and I feel 60. I drag my ass to the gym everyday, twice a day, and force myself to workout. I drag myself to my classes, and force myself to listen to their lectures. I drag myself to job interviews, and force myself to appear motivated and interested. I drag myself to the doctors office, or to cardio rehab, or to the pulmonologist, or to the physical therapist, or to the therapist with my dad and make sure he is attending and going to each and every single appointment. Handle my dad's law office work, he can't work and he needs his practice. I drag myself to marriage counseling and sit through difficult sessions and work with my wife and counselor. Imagine waking up for the first time with no one, nothing. You're all alone in this 2 bedroom apartment, your skin is crawling because you wake up constantly on pins and needles.
You wake up. You check your phone. 'Wow, I slept over 5 hours today and did not have bad dreams.' You see no one has called you. No one has texted you. No voicemails. Nothing. You make your way to the kitchen and pour a tall glass of water and put on the kettle for tea. Half of the dishes from last night are not done, the garbage needs to be taken out, and you notice you left oven light on. You stand there and just continue to tell yourself.
'How the fuck am I supposed to get through the day.' 'What the fuck am I supposed to do.' 'Why.' You repeat the 'Why.' question to yourself a couple time.
You drink your water, and pour yourself another cup, after you drink that you go to the bathroom. You realize that you haven't turned the heat on in days. Because you sleep in the nude. You go put on a tanktop, boxers, socks, and sweats, pull up a quilt. You sit down in your chair. The chair is not comfortable, you've had it for two years, you need a new chair, you continue to tell yourself this, this week you're going to buy a new chair, you said the same thing three weeks ago. You don't want to go to ABC warehouse or do any sort of furniture shopping. In fact, the thought of social interaction puts a knot in your stomach. Thank God it's Monday, I have nothing to do and all day to do it. You boot your computer up, she turns on, and you check all the regular things. Social media. Email. Discord. School. Law office work.
You debate about not going to the gym, you argue with yourself for an hour or two about it. You debate drinking the beer you have stored. You think about taking a xanax, a perc, some kratom, or buying a bowl of weed from the guy three doors down. You could numb yourself out for the day. But you have this other side of you. 'Threads, just go to the gym.' So you pull yourself out of your chair, make a protein shake, and you drag yourself to the gym. You power walk on the treadmill for 35 minutes at the highest incline, you imagine during this time you're doing something exciting with your life, for that 35 minutes, you put yourself in another universe. You do some weight lifting, you feel good. You wash your hands. You go home.
You walk back home. You feel a cold breeze pierce through your goatskin jacket. The cold triggers your PTSD. You remember smoking cigarettes outside your parents house, when you didn't have a pair of shoes that fit you. You went outside in 20 degree weather in a tee shirt and jeans and smoked. You remember how cold your feet were. You remember believing in the Christian right-wing death cult your parents were apart of. You believed the world was going to end. You believed that the government was going to kill you. You're back in 2012 again. There's nothing to eat in the house. The water is coming from an unfiltered well and is undrinkable. The fridge is empty. Your parents have 6 months worth of no-perishable food in the attic. It's locked. You cook up a microwave dinner. You're still walking home, but you're completely disassociating and just an automaton.
Eventually, you get ahold of yourself. You walk up the steps to your apartment. You come back in. Do the dishes, take the garbage out. Have a cup of tea. It's now 10:10 am. You're anxiety is through the roof. You begin reading your dad's legal docket and go over his cases, you begin drafting legal arguments, making phone calls, and finding out what needs to be filed at the courthouse. Your fridge is stocked. You get on SS, and you start your rounds. You have some documentary or free class on one monitor, and you have some tower defense game on the other. Eventually, you drag yourself to the courthouse, file his paperwork, maybe sit through a trial or two. You drive home. Probably get triggered again. When you get home you'll probably make something out of origami. Maybe read a bit. Maybe watch some anime. All the while you are fighting the crushing feelings of depression, despair, and misery from overcoming you.
Around 830, you'll head to the gym, and do the same process again. You'll wake up tomorrow after 5 hours of sleep and bad dreams, and do the same thing. The only difference is you'll have therapy at 3 pm. 'Fuck, I forgot I had to drop this off at the district court.' You drive over to a district court several miles away. On Wednesday, you're supposed to start this new job. You're anxious about it, because you don't want to fail. The looming thought of failing again and again hang heavy within your mind. You tell yourself. 'I need to develop a better relationship with failure.' You write about these feelings and talk about them with your therapist. You realize you've made progress, but as you've made more and more progress, you run into more and more complex problems.
Class on wednesday is a joke You take Metallurgy and you already know everything. You've already read all sorts of books and seen documentaries. You score 89% on the midterm. You don't really care about the other 11%. In fact, you don't care about what the professor is teaching at all. You play wordscapes on your phone throughout the session. You debate if you want to go to the SIA meeting on Wednesday night. Everyone there really likes you. You decide not to go. You go back home to your empty apartment. Make some tea, have a light snack, go back to the gym.
Thursday rolls around, you have class at 8 am. You wake up at 4. You can't go back to sleep. The nightmares of sexual abuse are eating at you. You wake up thinking about your brother. You miss him. Wonder if he will ever get help. 'Fuck it's 4am, I did not even sleep 5 hours.' You lay in bed for an hour and half trying to sleep. Your thoughts revolve around suicide, your future, and how this bed is too big for just one person. You miss your wife. You realize how fucked your life is. You get up. Drag yourself to the kitchen. Repeat the same process. You drive to school. You get there early. Your professor likes you, he pays you to pick him up coffee. You bring him coffee. You do some welding. Welding is easy. You leave around 4 pm. You head home. 'i want italian food.'
You stop at an Italian restaurant and order some food, by yourself. You finish the food by yourself, and wish you had someone to share it with. You miss your wife. You realize again. I can't have sex or intimate relations with my wife because of my sexual trauma. You pushed everyone away. In a way, you're happy about this, but you're also unhappy. You don't really know how to rationalize these feelings. You fuck around on your computer till 830, you go to the gym.
The weekends your wife comes over. You look forward to her company. you two spend the weekend together. She asks you if you'd like for her to move back in. You tell her that 'We aren't there yet, I need to live on my own a bit. I'm paying my bills and functioning. Sort of.' She nods and agrees. 'Maybe it's not time yet, we'll keep working.' Before you know it, it's sunday night. She's headed home, you don't go to the gym on sunday. You pass out, alone in your bed that is way to big for one person, and feel like shit. 'She would have stayed if I asked her too' you tell yourself.
You eventually pass out and wake up, and you relive monday all over again.
