Letting go (in other words, acceptance)

So, long time no write.  I really got off the habit of it this year.  I  I want to get back into it because of how it helps me process things.

To update you all, I am still in therapy, doing the prolonged exposure thing.  I  have not made any progress and it’s frustrating to my therapist and to me because I get stuck on this one memory.  I’ve been trying to get her to understand I just have no fucking clue what she wants me to do and that I simply can’t remember most of it.

She bombarded me with questions yesterday and I just kept saying “I don’t know”.  I felt bad.  I felt like I was back when I was a kid being asked about things that I did but blacked out of.  Most of it was my fault when I got violent.  Did I get violent?  I don’t know.  I just can’t remember.

I do these time checks to help myself keep from losing time.  I check my watch or the clock every so often to note the time.  I remember looking at the time but not what I’m doing a lot right now.  This is also frustrating.  I think it’s really frustrating because I just kind of accepted that I’m not good with time and remembering things and I use that as an excuse.

After therapy yesterday, I was really pissed off at myself and decided I was going to remember everything from the Thing whether I wanted to or not because deciding I was going to do a thing whether I wanted to or not was how I quit smoking and how I quit doing drugs.  So I walked to that fucking spot in the woods and sat there and focused because I was determined I was finally going to do it.

I don’t really know how to describe lost time outside of record skips or like when a DVD is scratched so it skips scenes.  It’s also like a block, an almost physical wall that I can’t breach no matter how hard I push against it.

So I stopped pushing.  I stopped trying to force myself to remember something that I obviously didn’t want to remember.  I stopped fighting myself and accepted that whatever happened, happened.  It’s only a memory now and it’s in the past.  I can’t change the past.  Time can only move forward for me.  If I won’t let myself remember, there’s jack shit I can do about that.

So I sat there on my butt.  In the cold.  In broad daylight because fuck going there at night.  And Breathed. And let everything go because I told myself it no longer mattered.  It doesn’t matter if I remember or not, the emotions tied to the experience are the same regardless of my own memories.  Not remembering is a bigger barrier, but if there’s nothing I let myself remember I might as well just let it go.  Because I’m wasting my time forcing something and worrying about what’s going to happen after and having a million gajillion thoughts race through my head and Jesus fucking Christ, I want my hat.  (Therapist told me she wanted me to stop wearing my hat because she felt I used it to hide.  I like my hats.  They make me feel safe and also I can’t pull my hair if my hair is hiding.  And I haven’t a lot of hair because I keep cutting it short.)

For the first time in a long, long time, everything inside me was still and calm.  Not Zen level calm, but peaceful in its own chaotic way.  There was no heart pounding or panicked breathing or racing thoughts or music replaying in my head.  I didn’t wear earbuds or headphones or earplugs.  I wore sunglasses because it’s bright as fuck out, but I wore them over my glasses so my face wasn’t half covered.  It didn’t really matter because I had my eyes closed, but anyway…

I don’t want to say the wall/block/whatever for that particular memory shattered or it fell or whatever you would call it.  It wasn’t some awe inspiring amazing experience that was happy.  It’s not like it was there one minute and gone the next.  I wouldn’t liken it to a puzzle piece falling into place.  It was just me, finally sliding back into reality.

Have any of you ever dissociated before?  It’s sort of like the world is blurry and everything is just a dream.  That’s how I live most of my life.  Lived most of my life.  It’s sort of similar to a Depression Fog, where everything is dampened by misery and uncaring.  There’s been times where I thought I was out of it, back into ‘reality’ but I’ve just gotten used to seeing the world in a distorted view, not really participating in life.  Barely existing.  Being automated.

Another thing is the reminder that I’m 26.  I’m not 15 anymore.  I’m not who I was back then.  I’m not a scared little girl.  Honestly, I’m not even sure I consider myself a woman or what since I’m struggling with my gender identity most of the time.  Regardless, I’m not a teenager.  I’m an adult.  I am a Goddess Warrior and a Warrior Goddess.  I am me.  I’ve been called strong and brave before.  I don’t really consider myself strong or brave.  I’m just stronger and braver than I was yesterday, if I let myself be.

I read in a book that the only easy day is yesterday because yesterday is gone.  I’m trying to let myself believe that.  To me, that means I need to be able to do what needs to be done, regardless of my own ability or understanding of the situation.  I still believe I’m defective.  That there’s not much worth to me.  I also believe that I have a right to know myself and that I have no right to determine how others view my worth.

Today was hard.  I went to that spot again and while I didn’t stay there as long today (it’s cold as fucking balls), there was considerably less anxiety.  Less fear.  Less uncertainty.  Less pain.  And more acceptance.

I kind of feel like I’ve been all over the place with this post and that’s probably true.  At the same time, I’m here and I’m present and that’s what matters most to me right now.  Whether it’s being here and present in the now or being here and present in the past, remembering shit I don’t like or want to pretend never happened.  It’s here and present.

Whatever works.

-The Sarcastic Autist

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