Didn’t do yoga this morning. It has been weeks. Not liking myself right now, as I don’t seem to prioritize what I need for a pain-free day, although I am trying, very very hard, to accept myself unconditionally in these moments. It certainly does not serve me well when I get so disappointed with myself.
What a struggle this can be.
Felt so lonely, bored, and scared earlier. Couldn’t even manage a change of clothes from the last two days or a shower. What is going on? How is this even possible? Finally, I went out for a neighbourhood stroll for toilet paper, fruit, and newspapers.
Am I depressed?
Wanted to focus on some small administrative tasks (sorting through paper) yet it all seems so daunting. I can easily get confused. I am concerned about feeling embarrassed even though no one is here to witness.
Sometimes I really feel I am failing at this thing called recovery. That is the goal, eh? To recover. But I can’t seem to. Every day I have pain. Every day I have fatigue. Every day I feel panicky, weak, and overcome with emotion. Every day I seem to retreat further and further into myself.
Have I gotten too much in my head after reading the psychiatrist’s report? Do I have a complex post-traumatic stress order, a dissociative identity disorder, a trauma-rooted psychic condition, or worse—all sparked from the sudden impact to my head nearly 60 months ago? Sixty months since the accident. I can’t grasp any of this.
I am often breathless simply going to the corner market. I can suddenly be extremely defensive and stubborn as hell. I can snap quickly and get into a fight over … just about anything. I can easily melt down with sadness and then be frozen in fear. I do not feel normal.
I can experience immense joy for a few hours and then be flat in bed for a day. I don’t know what is happening and when. I still avoid so much and spend energy hiding it from others. I have a higher need for controlling my environment and setting my pacing schedule.
I am alone most days; especially during these unprecedented times of a global pandemic. I feel shame for where I find myself. In the “Hierarchy of Disabilities,” I am low, low, low. I hate being labeled by insurance companies as disabled. Temporary inability had, at least, some hope to it. Very hard for me.
Why do I not cope well? There are so many people so much worse; difficult situations with limited resources and support. I see them on the street or at the medical offices. I feel guilty for all the free time in my day. It is empty time. It is hard to entertain oneself all day when your mind and body feel lousy yet I do.
I am (mostly) busy. How can I explain?
