How Goes The Healing? PTSD Sucks!

Nobody asks. Very few people even know, fewer yet know the actual truth. This isn’t something you can talk about. If my partner was away from me because of a physical disease, I’d have people coming out of the woodwork to be supportive of him, and of me. But because he may be a sex addict, and is a low level sex offender, those that do know shake their heads at me for even considering loving him still. This is very isolating.

More so because he has been out of my house for over 3 months now. I don’t believe has has provided his counselor with full disclosure of his past actions that may be related to his issues. If they are not, no harm in sharing – right? I finally put my foot down as requested he sign a release form so that I can communicate with his therapist.. after all, my terms were he must see a specialist therapist, and follow through on all suggested actions/treatment or I would report to the police. If I don’t have confirmation and can’t rely on his self-reporting – how will I know?

You can lead a horse to water… I feel like I forced this horse, though he was offered a choice.

How am I doing? Lonely. Isolated. In pain physically & emotionally. Horny. Lonely.

PTSD. I have known this thing called PTSD for a long time – flashbacks & triggers related to the abuse from my adoptive father. But I have never known anxiety and PTSD this fierce before. While I no longer have to take a xanax just to go potty, I still need it to shower. If I forget before bed, I wash my hair in the sink. I can’t drive on the med and my job requires driving. My robe is no longer comfy, sometimes I can wear it, other times it triggers me into a meltdown. Sometimes even going to my phone to show a picture to someone triggers me.

I’m losing income at a time I can least afford it. I work directly with clients. There are days I start crying while I am with a client – I can claim allergies causing my eyes to water once with each – more they will question. I used to love going to work – now I dread every moment. When my schedule is spotty and I am not doing well emotionally, I compress the day, block off and head home to curl up in the fetal position.

My stress has me clenching my teeth a lot again. My jaw bones and palate have started growing again (dental tori). My entire face and head hurt, eye-splitting headaches are once again commonplace.

Sleep. I wish I could get a decent night sleep. Writer and I both loved to cuddle all night in bed. If one or the other of us woke and we were not wrapped around the other it was always soon remedied. In the home he is not welcome at all in save for reclaiming his belongings – my king size comfy bed is covered in a mryiad of pillows, and yet I sleep in abou 18 inches of one edge. At my other home, I sleep on a futon left in couch position so I have less room to realize I am alone. Most nights I stay awake until I am literally falling asleep on my feet so I can crash hard, and yet most nights I wake up and lie in bed softly crying because my heart is breaking. The best nights I’ve had in months were with someone in bed with me, friends from my professional association during business trips – not snuggling, not even touching – just comforting knowing someone was there.

A friend I had not seen since two weeks after discovery day asked if I was ok, because I had put on so much weight. I’m not eating well.. cooking for one is so hard with no one to share it with. I no longer have to plan half the meals for when writer was with me, and no longer have him preparing that other half for those days – and then grazing on leftovers when he was at his marital home. So I’m eating crap, when I remember to eat. So often I go until I am ravenous, eat crap, and then it is close to bed.

I’m lonely. I miss loving touch. Physically, intimately – both sexual and non-sexual, Writer was the best partner I could imagine. In one gut-wrenching moment I lost that. It feels like I am being punished for his sins. If I could afford it, I would get daily massage sessions for the safe, non-sexual touch. I’ve taken to watching the craigslist ads.. but I’m not into casual sex and the ones that mention cuddling all also mention “and more.”

I’m horny – I wanna get laid. But I’m no longer the slut I was at 18. I only want that intimacy with someone I love – or at least care about very much. And then there’s wanting papers. Why do people scoff at the request of seeing “on paper” their status. Testing can be done as routine during an annual physical and be covered with no copay- with most insurances (unless you were positive before & then the testing is for cause rather than routine and you have to pay- WTF is that about!!!). Heck, if you have been tested, most places now give you online access to your test results – so not even a need to carry the paper with you.

There’s still much, much more that is hurting me, but I see I am creeping up on 1K words. That’s almost half of what most nanowrimo folks set as their daily goal. I already posted tonight, so I’m gonna schedule this one for tomorrow night.  Sleep well, y’all.


About Apophenias

I'm human. Female. Self-employed. Searching for connections in the randomness of life. Currently residing the US. ... And not quite defined by being in the midst of a biological ticking.
This entry was posted in Healing, Sex addiction and tagged , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

One Response to How Goes The Healing? PTSD Sucks!

  1. Pingback: How Goes the Healing – An Update | apophenias

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