For the last couple of weeks I have just been trying to wrap my head around the thought that my state funded hours for therapy have run out. I don’t have a therapist anymore. And that scares me. She had become my greatest supporter. She helped me to stay on track. Showed me how to recognize some of my triggers and how to find ways to fight them. So, I worry what will happen to me now. I still got meds management. At least that is good.
But, I am distraught. I have lost my ground control. I have lost one more reason to step outside my door and venture out into the world. I don’t have to face riding the bus everyday and feeling the building anxiety of incoming panic attacks. But I rode that bus to prove to myself that there was at least one trigger I could conquer. Even that is not totally true. A few weeks ago I totally freaked out. I saw someone, and it triggered a flashback. The panic set in fast. The cold sweats, the quaking, the nausea, and the fear. I heard the ding for a bus stop and I dove off the bus to the curb and vomited until I was spent and empty. I had no idea where I was. All I could see was ‘that man’ hovering over me…starring..oogling. And it wasn’t real. Noone was there. Just me. If I opened my eyes, there he was. I crawled my way over to the bus stop bench and curled into a ball sobbing, waiting for it to stop. A couple of buses came and went. I just lay there, paralyzed. Afraid.I don’t know how long it took me to gather my senses..an hour at least, and then I got onto another bus. I was determined to get to my therapy session. The same thing happened again. Triggered. Again I lay on the side of the road with traffic zooming by, bicyclists rolling by, and a jogger, too. Noone stopped. I staggered across the street into the shade and lay down. I drank some water. And I quaked, eyes squeezed shut against the panic and terror. I found my cell phone, and thank goodness for speed dial. My therapist is #1. Pretty easy. Then I called my husband at work. He came and got me and took me to my therapy session where they called an ambulance. The mental health hospital wouldn’t take me. The crisis center told me to take a clonapam and go lay down somewhere quiet. I was hallucinating! I couldn’t open my eyes without seeing his face looming over me. A face that had molested me, harassed me, and made me afraid on buses. This time I just can’t seem to get past it. There is noone to sort it out with. No therapist. No funding. No insurance. No hope.
I just want to sleep tonight. And I can’t. Tonight I am haunted by that face….still.I’m afraid to sleep for fear of dreaming. The night terrors are horrible. I feel pressed into the bed, unable to open my eyes to stop the terror. Helpless. Suffocating.
I sometimes think I just want to sleep and never wake up.
Help?
the depth of condition 