An overdue letter to my psychiatrist

This was on my to-do list for ages.  I sent it today.  For some reason, it seemed like a blog post too.



I hope you’re doing well.

You’ve been on my ‘to do’ list for some time…. I’ve been wanting to get in touch and tell you how I’m doing but there’s been ‘something’ holding me back.  I think that thing is still loitering somewhere in the recesses of my mind, but regardless, I’ve decided it’s time.

When I left you at the end of June last year, I was ecstatic; I felt like miracles could happen and life was turning for me.  I literally felt like a different person and I literally felt that I was seeing the world as new.  What had seemed to be surrounded by fog, seemed then to be suddenly able to be seen with a clarity that I hadn’t realised existed.  Or, had forgotten.

Initially I was very frustrated that my body was lagging behind my brain – every time I did something even mildly energetic or exciting, I needed to build in ‘recovery’ time – my body was still repeating the habit of hyper into hypo.  It’s taken a long time, and my energy levels (or lack of) are still something which I worry about, but they are so much better and improving all the time.

During that early period of ecstasy and excitement, I launched myself into my business.  I was certain that things were turning for me.  I’d beaten PTSD and so I was going to crush this self-employment thing and be a huge success.  I could do anything.  And then, I crashed with exhaustion.  Making the business successful wasn’t easy and it needed more attention and energy than I had to give it.  I started hiding from the things that needed doing, just keeping up the pretences of doing and doing enough to not get found out.  During that time I think I sunk into depression again, or something like it.  Being alone for most of the day (and nights) didn’t help.  Pulling myself out of that funk has been (is proving to be) very difficult.

I was going to write to you at Christmas.  I had some special ‘Chrismukkah’ cards made for my business and I was going to send one to you with a thank you note inside, for giving me my miracle.  But I didn’t.  Because I felt I’d been squandering my miracle.  I wasn’t a success.  I was still languishing in bed for much of the days and creating a fake bravado persona for when I was with others.

The beginning of this month marked the 7 year anniversary of the rape.  You know that in the past this date has caused me a lot of anguish, I’ve wound myself up into quite a state in fearful anticipation of it, really from the end of January every year.  This year it was March before I really consciously remembered the anniversary was approaching.  And I didn’t feel frightened.  I felt sad.  I felt grief for the lost years.  And for the first time I think I consciously allowed myself to move on and past.  I won’t ever be able to forget.  But it’s not got the hold over me that it had.  Thank you.

The business hasn’t worked – yet.  It will.  After the May Bank Holiday I’m taking a really interesting 6 month contract which will improve my skills & expertise as well as keeping the roof over my head.  I’m immensely relieved.  I also hope that the combined factors of routine/schedule and the company of other people will help me with staving off the depression which wants very little excuse to manifest itself in my head.

Anyhow, I wanted to write and tell you how I’m doing.  I’m doing good.  Thank you.