Today’s writing prompt from the folks at Nablo is: “What’s the first thing that pops into your mind when you think of your father?” I kid you not. Man. Man oh man oh man. Let’s not go there. Today has been hard enough as it is.
I woke up feeling anxious and wiggy. I’m not entirely sure why, though I have a theory. I forced myself to go for a walk, though it was just about the last thing I felt like doing. I walked by the river, which was quite nice. I saw lots of great photo shots, though I didn’t have my camera with me. But I was still anxious. Hyper vigilant and freaking out whenever anyone came up behind me. Even the birds made me freak out (I don’t like birds anyway, but usually they’re not a problem in the winter).
By the time I got home I was virtually paralysed by fear. I played on the computer for a while but avoided moving too far into the real world for fear that I would freak out.
I felt like such a failure. I’d been doing so well – less anxious and less depressed than I had been. I felt like such a fraud.
My theory (which I realised after several hours of this)? Well, I have two theories, actually.
The first is that the Wonder Therapist’s return from holidays unsettled me a bit. I had my last session with the Back Up Therapist a few days ago, and my return session with the Wonder Therapist yesterday. Perhaps Back Up T is right and you shouldn’t see two different therapists at once?
My second theory (and possibly the more accurate one) is that I had a date this afternoon. A kind of blind date with a guy from the online thing. I was nervous. Freaking out nervous. Scared sh*tless nervous, actually. I tried to remind myself of all the rational things the Wonder Therapist and Back Up Therapist have told me, but it didn’t work. Sometimes the craziness wins, I guess. I was so scared I wanted to back out. But I didn’t. May be I should have, but I’m glad I didn’t. It went well (actually it’s the first date I’ve been on where I haven’t wanted to run away after the first 20 minutes; I guess that’s progress, of sorts). I think we’re going to catch up again this week (though I don’t dare hope).
When will I learn that stuff like this is guaranteed to freak me out? And when will I learn how to manage that? Stupid d@mned PTSD … sneaks up on me every time.