Member-only story
Content Note: depression, trauma, sexual violence
The last time I saw a friend in person by choice was September 22, 2019.
That was three weeks ago, a probably unhealthy amount of time without socializing. And I have zero plans to change that pattern.
This loneliness, this self-imposed isolation, is not new to me, but my awareness of both what I’m doing and why I’m doing adds a dimension of frustration and sadness and even self-loathing. I stay home and avoid contact because I am afraid of confrontation with everything. I am stuck in a hypervigilance mode, so I’m bombarded by sensory red-alerts that are exhausting and terrifying.
I’m haunted both by my own memory, my pain, my self-loathing, my disdain for recovery and by the moments when it seemed that I could love myself better. Or at least try.
Hypervigilance is something you probably know, but for me — it is a 24/7 status these days. It isn’t an irrational fear or paranoia, it is my mind and body responding to the very real threat of uncovering and addressing the trauma in my life. I’m not flashing back (I have,) I’m having an appropriate degree of fear and apprehension to digging up something that actually happened to me.
It is not all-encompassing. I drive Laura to and from work every week day. I have kept my…
