anxiety is a shape-shifter. what i'm anxious about today may not bother me tomorrow and a new fear will rear it's ugly head. there's no predicting it and no preparing for it.
isolating is a part of who i am. i'm an introvert to the nth degree. i find people exhausting and infuriating. i would much rather be alone with my books, my notebooks and my animals than be with anyone. i've always been this way. since PTSD it has become an even greater part of who i am - to an unhealthy degree. agoraphobia is the term. for the first year after the flood i was scared nearly to death to leave my house. the very place i despise. a vicious cycle ensued - so scared of what happened to me in this house that i found it impossible to leave it. so mush so that stepping on the front porch would cause hour-long panic attacks.
now things are a bit different though i still struggle mightily with going anywhere. it seems all too pointless and scary. since daddy's been in the hospital(s) i've fallen into the familiar pattern of home, work, hospital, home. no grocery store, no seeing my few remaining friends, no life but the small one i've been left with (or carved out for myself, i can't tell the difference). the scary part, sometimes, is that i don't want to do anything else.
i'm just wondering if this is all there is? wondering if this is all i'll ever have? i have so much work to do yet to manage my PTSD and i'm exhausted by having to do it. part of me just wants to give up. part of me can't imagine ever feeling better. i know that's a symptom of the disease but it's an alluring one.
i touched base with my therapist today for the first time in weeks. just today i realized that it's been at least 2 months since my last appointment and i think i'm feeling the result tonight.
grace and much needed peace
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