Jekyll and Hiding…

Saw my regular therapist today. She is so amazing. I can’t tell whether I just happened to stumble upon two out of this world therapists, or if the timing was simply right. I told her about the EMDR session on Monday, where we faced the “inner child” stuff. UGH. And the panic attack of yesterday. It occurred to me that the last panic attack happened on a Wednesday also. Wednesdays are my hermit crab days. I actively plan to stay inside the house and do “nothing” or at least, get caught up on writing, reading, watching Court TV. Evil grin.

Following suit, I was riding the bike to nowhere in the she-cave downstairs, and reading parts of “Yoga Anatomy” and “Overcoming Trauma Through Yoga.” It was like an instant replay of the previous Wednesday. I felt fine, but suddenly my sweat turned to ice water. “Oh no” I thought, spinning my wheels. I got off the bike and stood up, blinking my eyes trying to get my vision back.

Body? Are you mad at me? I spoke to the air.

Deep breaths. No oxygen going past my chest. Hyperventilating now. Numbing lips. Crap. Why is this happening again…I lower myself down to the pink yoga mat on the floor and lay on my back. Looking up at the fluorescent lights.

Little me, are you in there? What do you need? I ask out loud again.

It’s too chilly in the she-cave now. Basement floors, cold earth. I walk slowly down the hall and keep my right hand on the wall for balance. Ticking off the necessary thoughts. I ate. I have had plenty of water. I wasn’t over-exercising. Do I need sugar? Crap. Slowly up the stairs, hanging on to the rail with left hand now. Shallow breathing.

It’s okay baby. I won’t let you fall. Go slow. Listen to your body.

My fat kitty, that bitch, she is laying on my heating pad on the couch. I must have left it on. What an opportunist. I laugh for a second and yell “kitty!” but feel dizzy so continue to the kitchen. Bowl of sugar. That’s what I need. Am I diabetic? Is this a fainting spell? Do I have vertigo again? Did I forget to take my meds? What is WRONG with me? Your body and spirit fragments are integrating. Terror. Joy. Relief. Worry. You are crazy.

Little me is frowning. But not in a sad way. Ever since I wrote about her, I am aware of just how much I have been hiding from myself.

Kicking kitty off the heating pad, I assume my position on the couch. Laying down, but with shins and feet draped over the arm of the couch. Kind of like sitting position, but on my back. Head on pillow. Bowl of candy and water by my side.

Court TV. Or is it TruTV now? I don’t know. But thank God for Casey Anthony. She kept me company last year while recovering from the spinal fusions. I am watching the Dalia Dippolito trial. She hired a hit man to kill her husband. Talk about a true Jekyll and Hyde. I secretly delight in other people’s troubles. It helps me feel better about my own. There is a slight self-indulgence factor that leaves me feeling empty. Almost like this bowl of candy will.

My therapist today asked me to “rate” how I was on a scale of 1-10 (I HATE scales) from before the bus accident in 2009, to now. One being the least Jekyll and Hyde and ten being the most. I am amused because anytime I answer a scale question it feels like a big fat lie. Or a complete guess. But this one, I am prepared to tell the truth. “Before the bus accident? I was definitely a ten.” Ha. Not very often I get to make that self assessment.

And now? “Now. Hmmm. (Pursed lips. Eyes dart out the window. I’m embarrassed to admit it. But I must.) Well. I have to be honest with you. I would still say I am about a 6.” I blurt. Her facial expression says it all. I am sure she wanted to hear a lower number. I am sure people who “know me” would expect a lower number. But…having just begun the soul excavation project of EMDR 2 months ago, I am fully aware of how compartmentalized my life is. Still. And more so than I thought.

We discuss. I am painfully aware of her surprise, and concern. I am walking a tight rope. Like I can see the other side, but it might be cut at any moment. It’s thinner than a spider’s web. It’s that much of a fine line between freedom and light, to bondage and dark.

Part of me wants to run as fast as I can, quit all therapy and retreat into more Wasteful Wednesdays. But are they wasteful? I wonder if my body/mind/spirit “waited” until Wednesday, to emote. Hence the panic attack. Much like when I used to bottle up my feelings, hold in anger or hurt, and “wait” until I could get home to lock the door, drink or binge alone, and shut out the world.

Of course we all know that when we cut off anything “bad” we are also cutting off the “good.” So I feel just as awful, or uncomfortable  and outside of skin, now that I am healing…as I do when I am hiding.

Does that make sense?

Thanks for listening,


The Cockroach

Copyright © 2012 Kissing The Cockroach All Rights Reserved.



~ by kissingthecockroach on March 29, 2012.

11 Responses to “Jekyll and Hiding…”

  1. it makes a lot of sense to me.

    I know that I usually run, thinking that nothing could be worse than continuing on with therapy. And then I go back to life and realise nothing can be worse than my life and that I need to do something to change it, so I go back and usually run into the same problem. Over and over. What I’m trying to say (without invalidating how hard it must be for you) is that as painful as it may be, it’s necessary and inevitable to trudge through this leg of the journey if we want to “get to the other side”… but I think you know that anyway.

    Stick with it.. you can do it.

  2. Fantastic title!


    I am delighted to nominate you for the Very Inspiring Blogger Award!


    for details…

    Peace, Jen

    • Awww! I was just reading about Goofy taking you to the emergency room. I promise to address all of these “awards” tomorrow…but I only promise to try and not to succeed. I have a fear of them for some reason? What is my problem? Don’t answer. xoxoxoxoxoxo

      • OH DAMN I just read the last line

        I have an idea why you fear them

        Ok how about this: you hang onto the awards…Post them even and then handle the details later.

        Don’t just say no no no

        It can take a LONG time to take care of these awards. I nominated you because you write beautifully and your story is important. I hope people who need to find you do…

        XOXOXO J

      • You are amazing!

  3. I had a panic attack about a decade ago. I thought I was having a heart attack. (My actual heart attack was less dramatic.) I sent my kids downstairs (so they wouldn’t see me dieing), phoned my wife and told her I was having a heart attack and waited. An ambulance showed up. Took me to the hospital. And I recovered.
    The body does not approve of stressing out. Even when we’re not aware that we are.

  4. I’m pretty sure I would give you a hug right now if I could. Sigh…..glad you’re taking control of your life after tragedy. That takes tons of stregnth, my friend.

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