sometimes i can’t turn my brain off. i skip from one thought to the next without entirely finishing the original thought. i can’t relax. i can’t slow down… my head. i can’t slow my mind down and just be. it’s like my mind continually thinks “what’s next…”

i saw a therapist after i was raped who attempted to help me deal with my PTSD. this therapist told me that when my brain starts to think things that i don’t want to think, i should envision a big red STOP sign… and visualizing that STOP sign would deter me from continuing my previous thought process.

now, almost 9 years post-rape, i roll my eyes at that bullshit i was told.

because here i am, in the month… THE MONTH. my PTSD is through the goddamn roof, my anxiety level is off the charts. it just is. i cannot be talked out of it. i cannot be STOP-signed out of it. it’s here.

for now.

i never know how long it’ll stick around for. like always, some days are better than others… but at night especially, i cannot turn my brain off and sleep soundly.

i wake up with sore muscles because my body has been clenched all night long. paul tried to pop my back the other day and couldn’t because my back was too tight. i mean christ, my 6 ft 6 husband could not crack my back.

*shaking my head at myself*

i grind my teeth… horribly. i purposely avoid going to the dentist because i’m afraid of being told that i will be toothless by the time i’m 30 at the rate i’m going.

i try to focus on things that distract me from my constant level of high anxiety and stress. i focus on jackson… on his hair… his smile. and when i do that, i feel my heart rate slow down.

but then my mind wanders to the things that need to get done: the laundry that is still sitting in the dryer, the bed that hasn’t been made, the dishes on the counter from last night… and the fact that i have no plan for dinner this evening. and my mind takes over and grasps hold of me, unwilling to let go. parasitic.

STOP.

the STOP sign bullshit worked for a little while. i think… at that time, my mind would wander a lot. i didn’t know exactly what took place during my rape because i had been drugged.

it was haunting. it still haunts me… the not knowing. so i used to envision these awful, horrific things happening to me. images would enter my mind that now make me wretch.

STOP.

so here i am, 9 years later… still with sweaty palms, the occasional (or not so occasional) panic attacks, shortness of breath, heart palpitations that would put an ankle-biting yorkie to shame, fear of venturing outside my cave and leaving the apartment, desiring to curl up in a ball and remain in bed til it passes…

but even though i lay in bed, my mind still keeps going. i can’t stop it. i cannot escape it. my mind keeps listing and listing and thinking and planning and wondering and imagining and and and…

STOP.