Burning Bridges and Salted Wounds

Not much on the health front had changed. I need to put a call in to my Neurologist to see if she can increase the dosage on either the Amovig, the Rizatriptan, or both. I have my annual Cardiology appointment in Thursday which has me a bit unnerved but I’m not expecting him to find much. I’ll have an echocardiogram done like last year to make sure the MCTD hasn’t affected my heart. I’ll obviously post an update after my appointment. Onto the rest…

I’ve been meaning to post for over a week but haven’t been able to find the words. It’s been a bit rough the past few weeks and I’ve been isolating myself again. I’m not quite ready to rehash the events, but a conversation has caused my mom and I do not speak to one another. We talk if we need to but that’s it. Our relationship has been rocky since I left Vegas and this recent event may have fractured it beyond repair. It’s not something I wanted or am happy about, but at the moment, I’m unwilling to be the one that steps up to the plate first. This wound is much deeper than any other and it’s not wanting to close. I already have very little contact with either side of my family as is. That’s on me, I choose not to mend certain relationships and keep the intact ones to a minimum. That may change one day, but not today. The upcoming holidays only bring as anxiety and a FML attitude. Not a huge fan of holidays.

Other than that issue, things have been pretty good. Still having flashbacks daily which have contributed to my isolation. I haven’t talked to anyone about the source of these flashbacks (the recurring ones I’ve been dealing with for months), and I don’t know if I want that to change. Bottling it up has protected me from really feeling the pain. I’m not having random bouts of crying like I was, thank god. I’ve done my best to not let these thoughts encroach on my duties as a mom and a wife. I’m starting to learn how to turn the volume down on them when I’m around other people but have zero clue how to turn them off or quiet them down when I’m alone. If I get a half hour window to myself, the second I’m cut off from everyone, the memories and the feelings that go along with them, hit me like a tsunami. I don’t really believe that time heals all wounds, but it would be nice if this one would hurry up and scar over. I can handle scars, I have many of them, but not salted wounds. Not equipped to handle that appropriately.

I’m spacey at the moment and I’m (again) having a hard time finding the right words to mirror how I’m feeling. Brain fog for the win. Before I put my foot in my mouth, it’s a wise idea to stop writing.

Keep Calm and Autoimmune On 🤘

 

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