I took down Sub Brother, and Sir is teetering.
I’m not allowed to talk about it in those terms, but… it’s true. My issues over the last six months have put a significant strain on the household. I’ve had many many days and nights of screaming flashbacks, sometimes lasting hours, or coming in clusters and waves, one after the other.
I’ve had night when I had to lock myself in the bathroom to take my medication because I was too afraid to take it and fall asleep with the guys in the house because in my mind I believed they would rape me when I was helpless. (THIS IS NOT REMOTELY A TRUE THOUGHT!)
I’ve had hours and days of considering suicide, making plans, even sitting in my car in the garage…
I wrote my will.
I checked the beneficiaries on my life insurance.
We had many debates over whether I needed to consider hospitalization, and screaming fights when I told Sir that I would never forgive him, never trust him, ever, ever again if he forced me into a hospital… because then they would force me to do whatever procedures they deemed necessary… without my consent… in other words… they’d rape me. Over and over and it would be HIS FAULT.
I am currently taking 32 supplements and drugs prescribed by my doctors. My anemia has gotten so bad that I’ve had to sit down and scoot up the stairs one at a time, pausing to pant for several minutes after each movement.
I have literally fought Sir – hit, kicked, punched, screamed – as he held me through flashbacks that drove me to punch and kick at the third story windows, thinking to escape.
I have stopped eating.
I have tried to stop drinking water. (Thus the argument over hospitalization…)
I’ve had rolling panic attacks that made me choke, literally, to the point my partners had to consider calling the paramedics. To the point I literally couldn’t swallow my anxiety medication. To the point that Sir crushed benzos to powder and dumped them under my tongue.
I’m getting better.
I have medication for the PTSD that almost immediately stopped the nightmares, and cut back the flashbacks dramatically. I still have them but they are brief and I usually maintain partial awareness of my real surroundings.
I have medication for panic attacks. It makes me want to puke, but it makes them stop, and they’ve mostly stopped coming.
I’m still struggling a little with eating and general anhedonia… my therapist thinks it’s disassociation. My doctor found pernicious anemia and sleep apnea after my latest round of tests and thinks that the lack of oxygen at night is causing a lot of the lingering symptoms.
And I’m still bleeding.
But… in general… I’m functional. So much more than I was for a while there.
I’m not the only one affected by my life.
Sub Brother has been struggling. He already has an anxiety disorder that he takes medication for. Usually the medication helps, but… my… issues… have pushed his anxiety past where his dosage was working. He has been having more panic attacks and more general anxiety.
A few weeks ago he had an appointment to see his psychiatrist about adjusting his meds.
He’s started calling in sick to work. Frequently. And Sir and I don’t always know because he usually leaves the house later than we do.
He’s stopped doing chores.
He goes for days without taking a shower unless Sir forces him.
He leaves his clothes on the floor.
Basically, he’s turning into me.
Me on depression.
Last week Sir told him to make another appointment with his doctor, and this time Sir wanted to go with him to discuss what was going on. Sir thought maybe the new dosage of medication was causing the depression…
Sub Brother had a slow motion meltdown that ultimately resulted in us all learning that he hadn’t gone to his last appointment. And has, in fact, missed his appointments for the last three months.
So… I’m killing my Sub Brother.
He has anti-depressants now. They will take 6 – 12 weeks to work. If they are even the right ones for him and work at all.
Sir is trying to take care of both me and Sub Brother. I’m emotionally better than I was, but not normal. Sub Brother is mostly non functional and is barely holding onto his job right now. Our house is a disaster area. We eat on the couch because the kitchen table has been covered with junk for weeks. Sir and I manage to keep clean dishes in the cupboards… most of the week. The crock pot has been getting a workout – I’ve been throwing the most basic combinations of pre-made sauces and meats into it each night so it is ready to plug in in the morning.
Our dog has begun chewing – so far only papers be steals from the table and boxes from the recycling bags.
I feel like I’ve broken all of us.
Now, the company people who are giving me my CPAP machine are coming to my house this week to teach me how to use it.
I can’t let them see the house like this.
I told Sir this tonight.
He looked at me for a long time, then he said okay, we will clean the house tomorrow… but he looked so tired… so defeated when he said it.
I know he’s wondering how much I will physically be able to help. How much mentally I’ll be able to manage. How much will fall on him. On top of everything else.
He says we’ll be okay. Eventually.
He says I didn’t do this. It’s just life.
I didn’t do it on purpose…
But I did do it.
I broke us.