I'm Fine

Keefe

New Here
"It's raining. And you're in a bad mood." remarks Sarah, my therapist.
"What an astute observation," I think sarcastically. But I don't say it. Because today, I'm not talking. It's not like I made a conscious decision. I just walked into her office, and the sight of her office just... I don't know. I don't know why I decided not to talk. I don't know anything, these days.
Sarah waits. And stares. I can feel her eyes boring into me. Gosh, I hate it when she stares at me so intensely. She once said my eyes are the windows to my soul, and she's right. I roll my eyes waaay too often for her liking, but she's waaay too annoying for my liking!
She slides her notepad more comfortably onto her lap and writes something down. I look up in disbelief. I haven't said anything, how could she write something down already?! Our eyes meet, and I break eye contact. I just can't look her in the eye. Just a side note, I do NOT let her write stuff down about me in session. Like, seriously?! But still, she sits there with a pen and paper every session. I think she has half a page of notes about me since I started therapy. Oh well, at least we're on the same page. (Pun intended) I guess it's not easy having me as a patient - whoops, I mean client. Especially since I'm not talking today. But she asks me questions anyway. Yeah, right, like I'm going to answer them.
I can't. No words can possibly describe how absolutely alone and terrified I feel.
I feel tired. So utterly exhausted.
But at the same time, I feel wide awake, like I could never fall asleep.
I feel stressed because I have to succeed! I can't fail!
But at the same time, I don't feel the urge to be productive. To try. To do something.
And my friends. I want to be around them, I want their support.
But I don't have the energy to socialize. When I'm at home, I wish I could be with my friends. But when I'm with my friends? I wish I could be at home.
I wish to be alone. In my room. In the dark, all by myself.
But at the same time... I hate feeling so lonely.
I worry so much about the smallest things. But at the same time... I don't care about anything.
I feel everything at once, completely submerged by my thoughts and feelings. So why do I feel so paralyzingly numb, and stone-hearted?
Sometimes I feel like I'm drowning, I'm suffocating by immersion. The water closes around me and deprives me of oxygen. I struggle to remain conscious, trying to keep my head above water. And everyone around me? They're in the same stormy water, but they have a boat. They have oars. And they are breathing.
Only me, I'm imprisoned inside the inescapable bog that comprises...
Depression.
This is what depression feels like.
I want to tell her that, let her use my amazing descriptive wording for her textbooks. But I remain silent.
Because today, I don't speak.
She tries again. "Keefe, I don't know what could be helpful for you today. I don't know how best to support you; could you tell me why you don't want to talk?"
I look down at my hands, twisting them in my lap.
"Cmon Keefe, just say something! This is so awkward!" I think, desperately trying to get the words out.
“How about we message each other? That way we can talk, without actually having to, well, talk.” Sarah offers.
I look up, relieved that there is a way to communicate without having to voice my thoughts. I pull out my yellow (broken) Nokia phone. My hands are shaking, and I drop the phone. Ugh. Now I gotta restart the whole thing, and it takes hours. I should get a new phone. But I’m not. Who cares about stupid phones?!
My phone chimes. I got a text message from Sarah: “What makes today scarier to talk than any other day?”
Good question.
“Nightmare.” I reply.
“Really bad one.”
It takes her a few to send:
“I can see it really shook you up. Maybe it would be better not to talk about it?”
Unwillingly, I think back to last night’s nightmare.
And then it happens. Without warning. Somehow, my mind tricks me when I’m most vulnerable.
The memories resurface.
“Keefe, are you okay?”
My brain barely registers her voice though, being far too occupied with the intrusive thoughts swirling around my mind. I feel the familiar burn in my throat.
The waves of pincer-like pain plummet my brain, as my body is dragged down. Down. Down onto the icy cold depths of the sea. Choking me.
I feel utterly helpless, leaden, dull, unable to move. I am trapped—an unwilling witness to my own suffering. Anger invades my lungs, heart, and spirit.
It is as though that old part of myself is waking up in me, terrified. What is left of the present me, wilts and shrivels in despair, desperately trying to pull myself out of the strongest, most terrifying part of the memory that has risen up from a place buried deep down. And it’s happening. Right now, putting me back where I was when it occurred. I try pushing the thoughts away, and telling myself that it is not real. It’s not really happening right now! But it doesn’t work this time. I can’t stop it. The vivid images appear, finally pushing away my final mental barrier. Then it’s black and colours. Colours filled with details I never knew took place. A black that strangles me physically and mentally. I cover my eyes, but it only pushes me deeper into the memory. All I can see is black. Black and colours that disappear, that leave no trace behind. The emotions and raging fear remain though, keeping me company in the therapy room, where I had forgotten I was. The tears are threatening to spill over, my heart beating furiously against my chest. I heave myself up though, wipe away my tears, lock up my feelings, push away my thoughts and breathe.
It takes me a long time to get back to myself, but eventually, I do.
“Keefe, you can’t continue living in such pain.” Sarah’s voice is soft, and caring. I watch her through hazy eyes, still shaken from suffering another flashback. I’m exhausted from trying to be stronger than I feel.
She watches me, giving me the space I need.
“Do you want to talk about it?” She repeats her question.
I want to talk! I want to scream. I want to yell. I want to shout. But all I can do, is whisper:
"I'm fine."
 

Keefe

New Here
Hi.
I'm new. Never done this before.
Lotsa questions, lotsa thoughts to sort out, lotsa #ICAN'TDOTHIS!!!
But first: get aaaallll the feelings out. Sort through my writings, and post whatever could be helpful.
I really admire y'all for doing this. For being open with each other. For supporting each other. Without judgment.
I hope I
Hi @Keefe - welcome to the forum.

Are you the person named Chaya in you post (above)?
Yeah, but I'd like to keep my name private...
 

joeylittle

Administrator
Yeah, but I'd like to keep my name private...
You can keep anything private, that's your call. I was just asking if your post was about you (ie @Keefe), or a work of fiction. We sometimes get posters coming here, wanting advice on whether their fictional depictions of people with PTSD are believable. So, I never assume.

For posting stuff that you want to put out there but aren't necessarily looking for a response - starting a Trauma Diary can be helpful. There are three levels of privacy.
Trauma Diaries - these are on the open internet and can be read by guests and members alike
Trauma Diaries (Members) can only be read by members, and is not indexed by search engines
Trauma Diaries (Private) can only be read by you and the site administrators.

People sometimes want responses in their diaries, and that works, too. If we can help you with anything about how the forum works, just post to me/staff using Contact Us.

Glad you're here.
 

arfie

MyPTSD Pro
hello keefe. welcome to the forum. sorry for what brings you here, but glad you are here.

gentle empathy on the difficulty of opening up. i'm fine, too. . . sigh. . .

for my therapy nickel, writing about ^it^ is a whole heap easier than talking about ^it^. i'd still rather wish ^it^ away, the more i write about ^it^, the easier it gets to open up with other people. it gets mighty lonesome when i can't let anyone into my heart. sharing my writings in anonymous forums such as this one helps me feel safer while i learn about that scary concept called, "trust."

steadying support while you learn your way around the site. welcome aboard.
 
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