life after suicide: day 415

dear red star riser, you are about to read a journal entry from my life after suicide experience. thank you for holding her in your tender, loving kindness.

april 14, 2018

on my body ~ something is UP! i’ve had this really present butterfly sensation in my belly ~ in my low belly, like where the uterus is, half way between my pubic bone and belly button ~ for a number of weeks. and then i’ve begun to feel it in my solar plexus. yesterday and today were really hard concentration days. today in class i felt that i was being energetically attacked, so i protected and cleared myself. also, post lunch i felt nauseous, and like i was going to pass out/be sick, tho by my gas this afternoon i think i just need to poo.

my muscle strength ~ i ran yesterday ~ like 50 feet and it was hard! holy, i have really now noticed what a year of no concerted exercise will do ~ or even 3 months no concerted exercise.

on ritchie ~ i had lots of thoughts and feelings into him today. in someone’s belly, thinking on the days-and-year after his death. on my buying him a boutonniere. on what emdr healing means, what that means for my story. thoughts on “well if you heal this trauma, this pain ~ does that mean you won’t miss him any more?” “does that mean you won’t be hurt by this tragedy any longer?” “well, what if i forget him?”

thoughts on my current reality ~ i do feel like my current physical and cognitive experience and performance is altered and impaired ~ that i’m not running “at full speed” per se ~ that i’m maybe running at 40 percent? woah. and these things i’m working on are big and mindful, helpful and healing. and the “work” i’m doing is important. what is self love? how do i learn about self love? what isn’t self love? what do either/both look like?

being in riverdale feels like a space away from it all. a space away from the buzz and beat of the city. what if i dreamt of a dream ~ what would that look like? to envision a new future for myself.

☾ᐧ post script context ᐧ☽

four hundred and fifteen days after my dads death, this is my live-and-real-time experience: i wuz seeing my third therapist in a year, and going to near weekly appointments to process what i had been thru. the therapist used emdr in their practice and at the time of this journal entry i wuz a few weeks into my first experience with the emdr modality. the feelings i’m processing and the physical changes i’m speaking to here are a result of my trauma, ptsd, grief, and the new-to-me sessions with emdr. in short, these now-new feelings, sensations, and felt experiences were a clusterfucking mind fuck. with 33 years experience in my human body, everything i knew about my body and how it felt, or “performed”, was altered and shifted as i traversed the underworld on my heroine’s journey.