For some reason my chest feels like it is exploding. This is a feeling related wholly to emotions, not a physical one though they feel similar. There is a tightness there, and I feel as if there is a metal coil compressing me into a corner and I must run. I have some unspeakable need, it is unspeakable because I have never actually felt this need before. I have no clue what it is. I think it may be a hug, but I don’t know. It may be the need to cry, but I don’t think so because I am doing that as I write this.
This sensation is so very strange to me. I know what brought it on, and it may just be two forms of overload in one, emotional overload which is in the realm of PTSD and then sensory overload with a bit of an overlap. You see I feel a hint of this every time I find out a child has been violated in any way, and I already dealt with this today. I wrote a submission for a survivor’s anthology of letters. This means I laid open my heart and looked at the core for the words, and that always shakes me. On top of that in the morning Nymph will be going to the vet and will not be returning. Sprite is very upset, I am very upset and I would not have managed this weekend alone. M the Carer did more than her job.
I tried watching a movie, but it made this vice worse. I am new to knowing and understanding that I am different and I find it a struggle to know that each time I do this, writing this sort of thing publically, I am challenging conceptions. I find it painful, because I don’t understand and that knowledge adds this time to that sensation. I am proud that I am able to write and pour my heart into this world, so that the love I feel can be given to others in need of that.
I also hate that my words touch others who are wounded. Why? I don’t want them to be hurting in the first place! I am rocking as i sit, I don’t rock often, but I am stimming because if I stop then I will burst more.
Maybe this is empathy for how Nymph is feeling? The crushing fluids in her body that are suffocating her, rotting her? I feel guilt too because I went out today. I went for a walk as she is giving off this horrible smell that I know is very bad. Sprite was given the chance to come with me and almost did but went and laid down with Nymph with such resignation. She is hurting too.
A part of me thinks nothing will fix this sensation but time.
A part of me loathes my visual thinking.
YOu see whenever I talk about Nymph being given release from her intractable pain, which the medications no longer are helping with and relieving her of a torture that could go on for weeks I see her laying in the vet’s office, I see them giving her the medications and I see her dying. I can see it. OVer and over again.
I also cannot stop this. When I think of just Nymph I see her first time getting on my bed by herself, as she jumped up and down. I see her dancing to music, making me laugh as she does so. I see her surprise when Sprite pounces her and rolls her over, then bathes her head to toe. That is Nymph in my head. Euthanasia gives a more horrible image and this is where the trigger warning on this post started. I see the dog I beat to death because I had to protect my sister, I see the bloodied remains of the cats and dogs my father ran down out of malicious hatred for all life, and I see myself in the middle of a pool of blood, staring at my aching hands, which always ache when I am sad, and wondering why I wasn’t allowed to go to that bright light space, but had to keep on living even though I hurt. Even though my neck was broken. I see it all at once.
It makes me queasy.
The music in my head is easier. I am trying to set up my MP3 player with music that Nymph likes for tomorrow. I am not sure what her last sounds on earth should be. She likes Heavy Metal, Gothic Metal, but mostly me singing but I think I may cry too hard for that. Do I take a sound recording of myself? I am very tempted by a few songs I know she adores but they aren’t socially acceptable for this sort of thing, and may be a bit too macabre and I don’t want to damage my own needs by giving her something that will help.
Do I include the Rob Zombie with the Celtic Woman? I don’t know.
Maybe what I need are answers. I did sleep earlier, the rain that fell forced me to do so.
Oh yeah on top of this my toilet has sprung a leak. SO my bathroom floor is wet and of course Manager Fail decided to Fail like the label given. Thankfully he’s going going, and almost gone.
I was surprised by his kindness when Ifinally got him to come and see what we needed (new seal) when I told him why he could not touch the cats. He’s a nice man but incompetent with his job. He has cats, new borns and none of his cats are over the age of FIP’s supposed immunity. He was horrified and told me if I need anything to ask. I know better but he meant it in that very moment.
I did get my brain to stop going over the things that I have to replace, that was sending me into panic attacks.
So what do I need?
I have no freaking idea.
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