I called a crisis hotline for the first time tonight.
Or this morning. Whichever.
He wasn’t there. Allie said, “Oh, they had family plans, and you all were invited because we like you.” I am afraid that she was just being kind.
The party went great. No kids cried. Lots of gifts and guests and I enjoyed actually spending time with a friend out of this apartment.
I was great until I was driving home and the girls were asleep. Alone with my thoughts allowed the feeling of perpetual ineptitude and outsidedness (which I know isn’t a word) And I felt stupid for being anxious and not sleeping for days. That embarrassment turned into humiliation since I have two levels (numb stasis and entropy) and I started breaking down.
When I got home I told Nathan about my fears and he was trying to help. He really was. But his tone really upset me because it sounded… Idk… Scolding.
I slept for two hours then woke again. And cried. And cried.
I’ve always been too ashamed to call one of the hotlines. I didn’t feel that my pain didn’t compare to real pain. But I couldn’t take it.
She was kind. Reassuring. But not “It’s okay. Things will be fine. Think happy thoughts and fly, Wendy-lady.” She listened and gave some small bits of calming advice.
So I’m… Not okay, but not in near-self-harming misery any longer. So that’s a step further. Small victories are still victories.
I’m going to curl onto the couch and watch Doctor Who. Hopefully sleep will be in the future.