I feel like I’ve been hit square in the chest with a wrecking ball. The wind has been knocked out of me. I’d reach out, but the thing behind the ball is also choking off my voice; it’s a vice around my throat that causes the air to stick and the words to become trapped (not that I know what the words should even be).
I’ve started and deleted dozens of posts, starts to chats, journal entries… I’ve gone in circles with the concept of calling the hotline, or talking to L, or opening up to online friends. Each ends the same way: an inability to voice anything meaningful or sendable.
I’m very much stuck with these newest of the new flashbacks. I can’t rid my mouth of the taste of sweat and nicotine, my nose of the smell of shit and stale cigarette smoke. I’ve tried leaving the house and distracting. I’ve tried comfort food. I’ve cuddled the puppies. I’ve gone for a walk. I’m listening to music… and I’m struggling to communicate. My attention span for reading is nil. I can’t even bring myself to turn on the television.
It feels like there’s an elephant on my chest and a lump in my throat. My thoughts are at once numb and emotionally overwhelming. I don’t know what to do with this. If I could find the courage to call the hotline maybe I could communicate how stuck I am. Maybe they could help me get unstuck. But there’s no momentum to be able to get me over the hump of actually hitting send on the call…
I sit here as my body betrays me all over again in new ways. The worst right now is the old, unwanted arousal from the memories. It was unwanted then, and it’s unwanted now, yet it’s here. It’s surrounded in shame and guilt and pain. Intellectually, I understand the body can respond regardless of desire. Emotionally; fuck you body. You suck. I hate you… (please stop).