I have had two good days in a row. I said this out loud this afternoon. Physically, no. Physically, I have been feeling like a steaming pile of garbage, but I have been pushing through it and doing the exercises I keep being told I need to do. Taking myself for a little walk, getting some sunshine on my face, doing my physio routines, some yoga, meditation, all the things that you do to recover. I am doing everything right, at least that’s what I have heard over and over, yet improvements have plateaued. But I have had two good days.
This evening that ended. I felt the anger creeping up inside me, which made me angrier, a vicious little cycle. Last night I celebrated; I could see the psychological work actually working. Tonight, I brood. PTSD is a fickle little bitch.
I had bought decibel-lowering earplugs a while back, when I was overstimulated by the sound that the cell phone towers make when I walked myself to the library and then to the park for a bit of outside-of-the-house exposure therapy. I hadn’t been using them. Two days ago I pulled them back out, and for the past two days I could feel the calmness seeping in within minutes. It was glorious.
I was lecturing myself yesterday that it was slightly ridiculous that I had these tools but hadn’t been using them. That I wasn’t taking the time to pause, to ground myself in my body and figure out what tool I have in my arsenal to use to correct it. That’s where the celebration came in. Right in the middle of lecturing myself for not using them before, I realized that I was, at that time, doing the exact thing that I was scolding myself for not doing. That’s huge.
And this evening, that stopped. But I am writing this to remind myself that this is cyclical; it’s been cyclical the whole time. I have a good day or two, and I sink back. The realization last night had me understanding that healing comes in time; slowly, you get to a point where you suddenly see that you are having more good days than bad days. I am not there yet, but I hope to be eventually.
It might be a sign that this happened exactly 13 months after the accident that caused said PTSD. On the subject of signs, here’s the tarot spread that I had pulled the night before it happened. It is always interesting to me the stories that tarot can tell. Even more so when you have the hindsight gifted from the future.
Until tomorrow 🖤
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