I thought I was ready to dive into this, I thought after 17 years and years of therapy I could tell this story. It has unexpectedly opened a door that is causing severe hypervigilance, nightmares, triggers and causing a CPTSD response I wasn’t anticipating.
I’m suspending my story until I can safely tell this story without mental and physical repercussions. I feel unsafe and wish someone would just hold me close and give me a safe feeling of security. My dog was that safe point for me, but since his death 2 weeks ago I’m a hot fucking mess.
I walk the house all night, eat through the night, have nightmares, flashing images of his face and events, migraines and feel tortured. I feel broken and unfixable.
I’ve tried refocusing, staying busy, medications, meditation, safe place comfort measures and it’s just lingering. So this story is on hold until I can safely reopen this can of smelly shit.
Will I ever be free of you John? You piece of dog shit! My soul belongs to God, not you. Feeling defeated.