I’ve taken time off from writing, but I plan to start again in the new year. I needed the break.
I’ve fought my way through a tough patch here. The first anniversary of my hospitalization is nearly complete. Tomorrow is the anniversary of my release from the hospital. Thankfully I haven’t been back since then. I’ve dealt with nightmares for several weeks, which came as no surprise because a therapist told me that I would likely have some trauma during this time.
I hope I won’t have to go through this again anytime soon. I want to focus on positive things for a change. A new year begins soon, and I want it to be excellent for everyone.
My perspective has changed over the last year. I am on disability and learned to live with less income. I am not as physically strong as I was before last year, but that is no surprise. I take my time and approach things more cautiously now. I meditate every day to keep my emotions under control so that I won’t stress myself out over trivial things. I control my feelings and don’t get upset as often. Even subjects that used to get me all sore no longer affect me.
I take the time each day to be grateful for how lucky I am. I have Hal and The Stooges here with me, and I cannot ask for more of a family to call my own. I write almost every day, but most of it never gets into this blog. I write to calm myself and get rid of inner emotions and thoughts that I don’t always want to share.
I deliberately took time away from writing to deal with all these issues. I think I’ve done a pretty good job. Perhaps 2022 will see me write in this blog more often, but I’m not setting any artificial deadlines to make that decision.
I’m afraid to sleep. There, I admitted it to myself and the rest of the world. I’m reliving my near-death experience when I sleep from a year ago, and I don’t know how to handle it. A therapist told me that anniversaries are triggers and that sometimes we don’t recognize them until something suddenly snaps.
I’m trying to reevaluate everything right now. I’ve probably lied to myself about getting better. Instead, I think I’ve recovered as much as I can. I feel angry, like I let myself down, but now I must consider how bad my situation was. I’m moving away from the precipice without recognizing how close to the edge I was.
I have flashbacks, nightmares, and bad dreams when I sleep now. I wake up on the verge of screaming, but the details of the dreams have already escaped my mind. I can’t talk about things I can’t remember. All I can do is hope that in less than two weeks, with the anniversary of my release from the hospital, that the flashbacks, nightmares, and bad dreams will stop.