In The Throes Of Recovery

They say it always gets worse before it gets better.

I thought I’d already hit rock bottom before last night. I couldn’t sleep, depression hit me hard and the loneliness struck the core of my being.

Some of the false accusations, that my ex that had spread into a semi-public domain, pinged around my mind for several hours and all I could do to ease the pain was cry and cry and cry while my body felt as though it was being hollowed out by some life draining vampire.

They call it a sign of PTSD, or a symptom of DSM-5 abuse.

I just want it to end.

I want to be able to get a good night sleep again.

At the core of it is a wondering if I’m loved, am I valued, do I matter to anyone?

Where do these questions come from? My early childhood?

Why are they so prevalent now I am alone? Why is this all that matters?

Is it because I allowed myself to go through the most traumatic abuse?

If so, when will I be healed? When will I be well again?

The torture has to end and wholeness has to come.

My support group tell me I’m making a huge amount of progress and I only hope they’re right!

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