The next 90 days: 5000 steps down

I want to get into my truck and just scream at the top of my lungs until all the frustrations of the last year leave my soul. 

My PTSD treatment got abruptly discontinued and to me it feels like I am only half done. I collected traumatic memories for over 13 years and somehow the insurance providers expect me to get better in 4 months. Let me tell you, that will not happen. 

Healing takes time - even if it is only mental health related. Unfortunately, my body doesn't feel like all my problems are only in my head. It literally reflects in everything I do. I feel like an audiocassette with most of the tape pulled out... and scattered around the room. It's a tape full of life stories and adventures, and forgotten mysteries with which I am not really ready to deal, Got to sharpen up my pencil before I can roll it all back and hope that it will still play the same as it used to.

Last week I brought up Julie&Julia because I crave to create something. Anything. Create something new. Create a new version of myself and that is not linked to my old work identity and all the trauma that is attached to it. I am tired of falling through the cracks - those in the mental healthcare as well as those original cracks that got me into a bad mental health space in the first place. 

I am a complex individual and so are my ways of healing. I want to say I gave up, but the truth is I never did - I was forced to unbecome myself and turn into a sad unhappy version of myself. It's been 7 months since I ended up in the ER with sever panic attacks and was diagnosed with severe PTSD. 

At the begging of this year I have finally given myself a list of green lights to not just heal but start building a new life for myself, One that is full of forgiveness, joy, movement, and dark sexually charged femininity. 

Today, was the first time I walked more than 5000 steps on purpose. I have new medication and even though it makes me feel like crap (thanks SSRIs) and my face is super puffy, and I feel old - I also feel a tinge of hope. The hope that comes from the fact that all of a sudden it feels like the only person who can help me out at this point is in fact me. Client-led approach is out of the window. I am going back to my regular psychologist and focus strongly on re-arranging my life for the next 90 days. I feel like that is how long I still need to get back to a functioning human being, 

PTSD and now full on depression due to complete loss of my previous identity is hard to deal with. Getting out of bed seems impossible. Making any big steps in any direction takes every ounce of energy away. This sucks. I suck. 

But I forgive myself because I am not at fault. 

And I give myself a green light to start again. Even at my age. Just start. The hardest part. 

Yesterday, I went to the gym. Then for the rest of the day I cried because that used to be easy and now it's wrapped in the thickest blanket of insecurity. 

Today, I cleaned the kitchen and went for a walk, which I volunteered to do for my community. 

Alone. Time alone, but moving forward. That is what I currently need,

90 days minus 2.

The countdown is on.

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