I'm not going to start this with "Wow, this is a weird thing to post!" because at this point, nothing seems weird to me. It all seems fragile. It all seems strange. But it's not really weird anymore because it is my daily life.
I do have some good days. Good days mean not vomiting. Good days mean taking a tiny walk to the recycling bin with the empty bottles of water that I didn't vomit up. Good days mean writing here, then asking my best friends if I made sense. Good days are when I can figure out how to put a bra on under my brace. These are the good days.
The bad days are wanting to sleep and not being able to...day or night. The bad days are when I get upset that I can't figure out what I'm doing; this can range from anything such as...forgetting if I took my vitamins. Forgetting if I went to pee (I usually figure that one out quickly), keeping a watchful eye out of the window, despite being in a safe neighborhood. Every sound, every movement. The sounds of people walking their (quiet) dogs. Early in the morning, it is Orange County taking the recycling and waste, but I still wake up, if I've even slept, wondering what is going outside of my window. What is going on outside my home.
One of my best friends, who stays up at strange hours like me, particularly stays up all night on Saturdays. He does not drink or do any type of drugs (neither do I, obviously), but he is such a comfort to me. The road by my home apparently has "drag races" late at night. Cops park, waiting for them and I love listening to the cars. And then I talk to my best friend about how comforting it is. The sounds. The safety of knowing there are police out there. I can open my sliding glass door and listen to these sounds and know there is protection right in front of my house. It keeps the quiet away. I'd like to add that I do not think racing cars at 1 am is a good idea, but I still like the sound.
Sometimes I am ok with the quiet. Sometimes I'm not. It depends on the day. Good days, bad days.
When I was assaulted, it was cold out. It was very quiet. No cars. No noise in general. The last sound I really heard was this rattle of being thrown against a chain fence. I don't remember the real sound of hitting the pavement. I do remember the sound of running, finally getting to where I had parked, feet on gravel. There was pounding in my ears, blood streaming into my ears from my head injury.
As many people know, I love watching nerdy medical shows. I have for years. It's a silly little habit, but something I do. Now that I have been in a trauma, I think, well shit! It's true! Fight or flight! I am not sure how long I was unconscious. But when I did wake up, I ran. Probably the fastest I've ever ran. I was confused and didn't know what had happened. I am still confused and don't know why someone would do this.
So I go through phases. Anger. Fear. Sadness. Depression. Repeat.
Something inside me has been telling me that things were going to change. Something was going to be different. I didn't expect it to be this. I didn't expect to try to change everything, especially while healing. I didn't expect to find healing in people I don't know, people who have been around forever and I took for granted. I didn't expect to not be able to walk well. But, I had a feeling that something was happening.
I know I didn't deserve anything that happened to me. But I have also realized that when one has a feeling, a instinct, follow it. I did not know what was going to happen that night, but I had spent a few months with a deep feeling that something was going to happen. I wasn't sure if it was good or bad, but I knew something was about to happen.
It's strange to think of now. It hurts. It makes me sad for people who have had worse experiences than me.
Again, I appreciate everything you have all done for me. I am here for you on late nights or early mornings. Though everything is shitty right now, we have to all be a collective. We have to protect each other, physically and mentally.
My love to all of you who have reached out. I am still getting to messages, but do not think your words have gone un-noticed. Writing is a very important part of my therapy. I hope it is helping a lot of you. For those of you who are nosy and don't understand the pain that I am going through...you have plenty of information.
My intense love to all of you.
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