Content : High emotions, sex assault in 2020, depression, PTSD, breast cancer mentioned.

The NP (nurse practitioner) suggested I go in-patient psych so they can monitor a medication change. I flat out refused. I am not suicidal or homicidal. I’m not going anywhere!

Here in my own home, it’ll take 2 weeks to make the medication change. She’s giving me Valium to manage the anxiety. I refused Xanax because that’s a bit much w Delta-8 and an occasional glass of wine. I didn’t want to chance it. I can’t tell my NP that I use Delta-8 because she will not legally be able to prescribe helpful meds. Delta-8 is legal in Indiana but the drug tests don’t distinguish between which THC I’ve got in my system. It is Delta-9 that is illegal in Indiana but the drug test is simply for THC, period. I can test positive for THC only when being treated in the medical area in the medical, but not on the psych side. On the psych side I’m just using drugs. How can I go to the psychiatric hospital with THC in my system? I can’t. I have to keep from my NP that I take a legal substance, Delta-8. It’s insane.

I also can never go back as an in patient to the medical side either – unless I’m bleeding to death or having a heart attack. If medical PTSD was a recognized diagnosis, I’d have it. I am afraid! Please don’t ask me to willingly present myself to hell cause I can’t go again. As I explained this to my NP, she wiped away tears as I wiped away mine.

The new medication is trintellix. It’ll take 2 weeks to get off Cymbalta. I’ll have Valium to help w the transition. I’ll see her in 2 weeks.

My emotions go off like an atomic bomb leaving a ploom of anxiety and upset for anyone it settles on. It feels like it swells so fast and I vomit up an atomic bomb of emotion. This rather complex symptom could wear out my support system. I feared it would cause Leroy and Snow to walk away. I don’t want to push away the only family that has ever wanted me. Leroy said no, that’s not going to happen.

The anguish in my head is unbearable.

Last night I dreamed a man kept breaking in to my apartment whenever he felt like it. No matter what I did, he came and went as he pleased. I barricade the door but he still came in. He took small items, ate my food and was clumsy enough to break things and leave them on the floor. When he left he’d lock the door behind him. At times I’d come home and he’d still be there at my house. He’d excuse himself, close the door and lock it behind him. He’d return when he felt like it. He was a black, older teenager, medium complexion, no shirt, low hair cut, riding a broke-down, dark blue BMX bike that was too small for him. He parked his stupid bike in my living room.

The dream feels very much like my life right now. I don’t feel a sense of security or permanence. I feel exposed and like no matter what I do, it’s not enough to fix things and keep myself safe. I’m just here, that’s all.

I feel powerless.

I feel like a target in this wheelchair. Someone hurt me in 2020. Would he have done it had I not been so vulnerable? When I talked to a friend about it she said, “Maybe he just wanted you to remember how it feels.” She said it like he was just trying to help. I wish I could forget that thoughtless comment.

I know I have more than just a legal right, I have a God given right to say no. I was so ashamed, even to pray. I remember that first prayer very well. It must feel like when a survivor says to her human father,” Daddy, he hurt me. Someone hurt your daughter. I’m sorry. ” only I have no human father. I was talking to my God.

I am stuck.

I don’t feel like I get what I need from my psychologist, Dr D, concerning the emotional trauma of the hospitalization. Hippie Therapist picks up where Dr D leaves off.

Hippie Therapist introduced me to vagul nerve simulation. I went over some of it and had my first experience with it. I felt results quickly. It really seemed like something that I’d be able to try, in order to relieve anxiety and perhaps physical pain. I had to take it before the medical team. As it turns out, for me, vagul nerve stimulation isn’t an appropriate therapy because of my constant battle with low blood pressure. It was suggested I stick to simple stretches and other relaxation techniques. Hippie Therapist understood and said it is wise to have multiple eyes on a subject.

Wednesday night I met with Hippie Therapist and 4 others on Zoom. It was really nice. I can do it every Wednesday if I’d like to. I’ll keep it in mind. It would be another way to bring a little more stability to things. I’m nervous about it. I don’t want to intrude on the safe space of one of my friends who has been going to the group for about 2 years. This makes me hesitant quite a bit.

I’m not suicidal, as I told my nurse practitioner. I’m just drowning in flashbacks and depression. I feel so much, and so deeply. I feel like an exposed nerve.

Lastly, I have a really good friend with fibromyalgia, who is a recent breast cancer survivor. She did chemotherapy during the heart of the pandemic, in isolation. Now, as if insult to injury, this poor, poor woman now has COVID-19. I thought, really! My goodness, how much can one human take? It’s unjust.

I’m going to go to bed now. I’ll write again Monday.

No need to feel nervous, comment if you'd like.

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