Posts Tagged ‘flashback and post traumatic response’

Every night since I was a child, I would cover myself in piles of blankets. I would sleep with my blankets cocooned around my body, pulled up to my ears. Didn’t matter what the weather was, I needed to have at least five blankets over me.

I never really fell out of the habit of needed to keep myself warm at night. My grandfather joked about it a few weeks ago when I said how cold I was at night, even with my sweater and socks and pj pants. I smiled at his joke, but the safety I find in being buried under a pile of blankets goes deeper then a physical need for warmth.

It’s not something I ever really thought consciously about, even during summers when I’d have to cocoon myself at night to the point where a/c didn’t do enough, but I had to sleep with a fan and without clothes and was still hot.

I get it now that I really have no privacy, living with 40 some other people in co-ed dorm-like buildings. Especially since last night I had the best sleep yet in Israel because I had a real blanket, plus sweater and socks and pjs. It was a relief to wake up in the middle of the night because I was too hot. And I wrapped the blanket around myself even tighter.

I was thinking about that last night, the womb-like cocoon of blankets. It’s something I’ve only ever done when sleeping on my own. Cause once someone else is there, the sense of safety has already fled. Imagination can’t be worse then the reality lying beside me. Or something like that.

Bottom line: blankets equal happiness and love and (mental) safety and (mental) security.

I hate days when I end up craving the oblivion of narcotics and benzos. Today is a day when it feels like it’s all crashing around me. The last two-ish weeks have been really awesome. But without really thinking about it consciously, last night I crumbled beneath the weight of the fun. When I wonder when it’s all going to crash around me, it starts to.

When I start feeling guilty for making friends and having a life that is totally my own, I know how far I still have to go. When I feel trapped and cornered when the barriers are purely in my mind, it drives me even more insane.

So I break under the weight of small things, and the physical pain I’ve been experiencing and brushing aside for weeks flares with such intensity, I curse the stupidity of detoxing this year and wish I still had a bottle full of painkillers.

I napped over two hours this afternoon, a desperate attempt to ease my exhaustion and escape the pain for a while. Which worked while I was asleep, but now I can’t quite move. And not being able to move makes me panic. It means I am trapped.

And so the carousel continues to turn.

It’s the small realizations: how far I am from those I love, how foreign everything and everyone is here, how I still can’t, for the life of me, admit I feel like I’m dying from pain today. How innocent the other kids are here. And I realized yesterday that they really are kids, posing as badass miniadults. While I found it amusing and cute observing this, I can’t help but wonder at the badass stories of those who say nothing, but have the same half smile on their faces. And the thought I love most of all “what the fuck are you doing here, you’re just a whore”

Bleh.

Time to go lie in the grass to catch the dying rays of the sun.