Since my most recent PTSD flare up things had been ok. Settling back to normal. Well my normal. Then we let our littles have some time in a T session. They usually let memories out in small fragments. Note the usually.
It was a new Pandora’s box. Something we had not seen before. Something to add to our list of horrifying truths. I’m ok with this process. We have a system for this. Coping mechanisms and containment measures. It’s just when it sits. Of all the things therapists never warn you about, the sitting is a huge one.
First you are shown the memory, in its full connected glory. It’s not “you” in the memory, but it feels real. You feel all of the raw emotions that happened in the memory, as they were at the time. Then you talk about the memory, maybe draw something. It’s not until you get home that it starts to sit.
What is it that is sitting? The realisation that it is “you” in that memory. That those feelings are yours. That horror happened to you. All the times I have been through this process, this memory was never on my list. It was ok because this memory didn’t happen. I can cross almost everything else you can think of off my list, I was ok because this one wasn’t on the list.
Sitting is screaming inside your head. It’s finding your limit and surpassing it. It’s accepting that the one thing that could break you is a part of your reality. It’s falling apart and then trying to put yourself back together.
This is not the completion of my inventory. It is just another file in my warehouse. I guess I thought I was done being surprised. Yet here I am. Wondering if I can pick myself up and carry on. The sucker punch that I didn’t see coming is weighing me down. I’m wondering if it will drown me.
I have no intention of drowning. I plan to swim. I just need to ask the question. Look it in the face. Let it go. It’s so hard when it sits not to drown.