A DesertRose Wilting in Florida (desertrosedark) wrote in _survivors_,
A DesertRose Wilting in Florida
desertrosedark
_survivors_

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Really crappy evening that should have been fun

After an extended panic attack that degenerated into a crying jag, I've finally calmed myself enough to think clearly. (A long reassuring cuddle with my boyfriend and escaping into Discworld [re-reading Pyramids, for anyone else who reads Pratchett] in a bubble bath with lavender bath bubbles helped a lot.)

I'm not too sure what exactly was wrong but I have an idea. I went out to supper this evening with Cliff and our neighbors Tiff and Beau. (SUSHI!!! I have a new but strong addiction to kappamaki aka cucumber rolls with just a bit of wasabi in my soy sauce.)

While we were in the sushi restaurant (which is actually a full-service Japanese restaurant but without teppanyaki tables), I was okay. After a while we went to a different restaurant to (theoretically) meet friends (only four showed up, normally it's a bigger crowd), I started feeling a little dissociated. I felt like the world was moving in and out at me, and sometimes I felt like I was disconnected from myself. (Apparently no one noticed that part.)

I went outside for a cig, and to talk to a certain friend to apologize for a minor mistake I'd made, and his girlfriend was very upset. I let her vent to me, hoping it would help.

Beau decided he wanted to go home; there had been a problem with his food at the Japanese place (the first problem we've had there, and we've been in there quite a few times) and he was still upset about it. He'd been drinking, and felt he should no longer be in public. Tiff didn't want to go home, so they had a minor argument, finally resulting in Beau agreeing to stay long enough for Tiff to finish her drink. I decided to go to the loo.

When I looked up in the mirror while I was washing my hands, it wasn't my face. It was my dad's. It scared the shit out of me. I flipped.

I managed to stay calm enough on the surface to catch Cliff's attention and tell him we needed to leave RIGHT NOW. We walked out into the parking lot, he helped me ground myself in reality, hugged me, cuddled me, and rubbed my shoulders. Beau came over to the car (we had all ridden in Beau's car) and cracked my back for me (he's about the only person tall enough to do it, no one else is more than a few inches taller than I am), and Cliff rubbed my back some more.

I still really wanted to get home but no longer felt like I was about to fall apart entirely.

Tiff wanted to stop at Blockbuster on the way home, so we did; I held it together during that, barely.

We finally got home; when I went into the bedroom, the room started spinning and things started looking like they were moving to and away from me, and I had to sit down. I started crying, and managed to call Cliff into the bedroom. (Insert brief ranty crying, long rambly talk, and cuddling throughout.)

After he helped me calm down, I had a cig and decided to take a bath.

I think I know what sent me off.

For one thing, I'm still upset about the doctor.

For another, it's about PMS time. I'm starting to think I have PMDD, because I am MUCH more prone to panic attacks and intrusive thoughts during week 3 of my birth control pills. (My GYN wants me to start skipping the inactive pills for three packs, then allow a week, and then start again, but this is the first month I'm doing that. We suspect I either have endometriosis or PCOS.)

And the last straw was that, earlier in the afternoon, before we went to supper, Beau offered Cliff a beer. Cliff declined, saying that he doesn't drink beer any more (except Guinness) because of my issues with beer breath. Beau asked if he could show me what it smelled like and let me decide if Cliff could have any. He blew on me; he smokes, in addition to drinking. So does my dad. The cigarette/beer breath is the absolute worst combination, and I just didn't bloody think about it. (Cliff had a cider instead of a beer.)

I'm just amazed that I've wound down enough to write.

I get so afraid. I get so scared that Cliff will get tired of taking care of me; I fear I will end up a homeless crazy woman on the streets talking to people only I can see.

It's been nearly 20 years since my dad laid so much as a fingertip on me. It's been well over a decade since I last saw or heard from my ex-husband. Why does it seem like things are getting worse?

It seems like every depressive episode gets worse. The last one was the first time I was really irrational. Now I'm irrational and hallucinating. How am I ever going to get out of this? It will never go away; it seems like it will never even get better.
Tags: abuse: csa, abuse: sexual, depression, panic attacks, triggers: discussion of
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