Saturday, February 04, 2017

Raging grief out

Another joy of psychological injury is the raging grief out where you are suddenly sucked back into the welter of appalling crap that swept you out at the knees.

It was due to land at some point; another attack. I made it all through January without one. Then coming down from stepping out, bad dreams every night and a stupid fight and I lost sense of reason.

I was trapped in my room and unable to get out, just standing there with my papers clutched to me babbling "I don't know how to leave this room."

Standing in the semi-dark with tears streaming and my mind lost, crying and near-dead inside from the torment that roiled within from the wound and its genesis resurfacing. 

But this will pass; this raging grief out will pass and then I'll be back to even keel. It can't come soon enough. There is nothing quite like logically knowing things are okay but your brain and body both are screaming in torment.

That's the dichotomy of psychological injury—that you can be both well and sick at the exact same fucking time.

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