I’m Fine

by Lori Dwyer on June 12, 2012 · 15 comments

I’m fine. I’m fine, I’m fine, I’m fine.

I choose to go back to see Charlie, using the Medicare sessions I have hoarded because I had a feeling I would need them… it had to come to a point like this eventually.

Where life starts to feel normal again. Where I’m no longer in a spinning vortex of disbelief every day… where I’m living back in a semi reality.

That should be a good thing, right…? So why doesn’t it feel like one?

The post traumatic stress disorder kicks my arse over and over again. I’ve discovered a way to deal with it, to stop the rolling waves of panic and fear and disassociation that comes with it.

I just stop being around people…. and there is no one to hurt me, or let me down, or inadvertently do something or say something that sets me off. And that means I’m fine, just fine.

I am losing my fucking mind.

Isn’t this what I said I wouldn’t do; shut down, shut off, take myself away from the world? “You need people, love, people don’t need you”, my Nan would say, and she was always right– no one will come knocking down your door to keep you company. You have to find them.

There actually is an app for everything, yes. Even emo-sising.

But I can’t be bothered, I’m too afraid, I’m too pissed off, and people shit me. I talk to my mum, daily; and I spend more time with my kids than I was a few months ago. But I don’t socialize, even though I’m lonely. I miss the best friend I had not long ago. I miss having someone who understands me.

I miss being surrounded by people who love me.

But it feels so necessary, when I can’t have normal relationships with anyone… I am so intense. It’s either this ice queen, backed off away from the world and living in her TinyTrainTown bubble; or some kind of crazy woman who is emotionally unpredictable and too shattered to have a connection with someone that doesn’t drain them completely.

I am apathy disguised as contentment. I run two steps behind life, always trying to keep up- I’m always late, frazzled, slightly flustered, and I no longer posses enough sparkly energy to impress on that alone. I am insular and introverted, only barely keeping check of boundless panic attacks. The anxiety I feel as my children grow older while I seem to watch on from the outsides of a bubble made of solid perspex is a mounting tidal wave that rolls upward from my abdomen, still small enough to swallow back down for now. Days rush past before I take stock that they have begun, and reminding myself to get going and keep going is exhausting.               

My tattered, grinding sleep is filled with strange dreams that are so light and slick I remember them only when my subconscious mind is peaked by an image the next day. As I grind my teeth and sweat through slumber; I see my chickens laying dozens of eggs that slip through my fingers as I try to catch them and prevent them breaking on the coop floor. Dark dirty water runs downs the inside walls of my Tiny Train House in small rivers that concern no one but me. I dream of running through the house down the road, emptied of all it’s furniture, marveling at how light and clean it feels in there- then looking down and seeing the floorboards are gone, too, and I’m floating in thin, dust-smoted air.

And on remember these dreams, threads of them pulled into the front of mine when I’m collecting the eggs, or driving my kids to daycare; I’m not surprised by them all. Not even for a second, not a heartbeat.               

I’ve lost my bearings on what’s normal. From the outside, I’m fine, just fine… but this feels all kind of wrong and dangerous. I’m not sure if that’s just because normality is such a warped concept to me now, or if it’s that PTSD identifying danger in a situation where there is none; or if I’m on the verge of developing some kind of promiscuous split personality

But none of those options are particularly healthy. I need someone to attach a barometer to my brain.

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{ 15 comments… read them below or add one }

Supa Dupa Fresh September 29, 2012 at 12:08 pm

Oh hello, I can't believe i'm just discovering you… so sorry for your loss. Please join us at Widowedvillage.org and I'll try to get you up on my giant blogroll of widowed peeps as soon as I can.

Big hug….



Anonymous June 12, 2012 at 9:37 pm

I'm fine too. Fine and oh so needy. If I let myself need another person just a bit, it will never be enough. They can never give enough, because there is so much I need. So I understand to some extent, but have no idea how to get support without becoming hurt, because no one can ever give as much support as you need. Hopefully Charlie will help you figure it out.


Melissa June 12, 2012 at 9:25 pm

Charlie will help you get through this rough patch. You'll get through it – I know you will. We're all here for you, pulling for you. Ups and downs are part of the process I think, just hold on and you'll come out the other side.
Lots of love.


deardarl June 12, 2012 at 8:43 pm

Yep. I get it. All of it.
It sucks but is also good to know that I'm not the only person who thinks and does this exact same shit.
…except in my dreams I am always trying to help someone outrun death. So much running….


Tez June 12, 2012 at 7:43 pm

"This too will pass"

Very, very big hugs to one of the smartest, most ethical, intelligent, honest and authentic people I have met in the blog world.

One thing I've learned through a similar journey as yours; normal is an imaginary place that only exists in stats and socioly reports as a synonym average. You have never been and never will be average – you are and always will be extraordinary. So glad you are in this world xxxx


Fiona June 12, 2012 at 6:55 pm

I need to learn to reach ouwt myself

I have those other mes to blame things out.

The drunk

The slut

The prepubescent girl

Or the two of them together. *sigh*

Recognising the signs,

asking for help.

Staying connected.

With reality


Claire June 12, 2012 at 6:36 pm

Oh honey, I can't even begin to imagine what you're going through. But I know you're brave. And strong. And awesome. I am thinking of you!


sarah br June 12, 2012 at 6:00 pm

I know I have strange dreams which usually occur a week or so after something upsetting happens to me.. its my PTSD as well.. just my mind trying to make sense of the madness.. keep your chin up lovely xx


Eccles June 12, 2012 at 3:56 pm

I read this yesterday. I hope it helps in a positive way.

"Pippin: I didn't think it would end this way.

Gandalf: End? No, the journey doesn't end here. Death is just another path… One that we all must take. The grey rain-curtain of this world rolls back, and all turns to silver glass… And then you see it.

Pippin: What? Gandalf?… See what?

Gandalf: White shores… and beyond, a far green country under a swift sunrise.

Pippin: [smiling] Well, that isn't so bad.

Gandalf: [softly] No… No it isn't".

The Return of the King Soundtrack-19-Into the West

In your Tiny Train Town – you have found the "… far green country…".

Yes, my lovely, I too am hanging on "…in quiet desperation…".

Hugs & love xx


Caroline June 12, 2012 at 3:37 pm

I really wish I was closer so I could wrap u up in a huge hug. you have, and continue to help, so many people who read your blog. big love to you


Lynda Halliger-Otvos June 12, 2012 at 1:09 pm

Your blog has helped me, Lori, of course you cannot know that without being told. I hope you at least read your comments even if you seldom respond to them. My grief journey has differed from yours in that I have lost a sister and a brother very close to one another and before they were fifty so I grieve from a filial viewpoint but, goddammit, Lori, I grieve-every fucking day it hits me and jabs me and drags me down into tears. Your blog and your words help me to understand that others are feelings this pain too. Thanks.


Miss Pink June 12, 2012 at 1:03 pm

You're on a slipperly slope. A very slippery slope, and I know you're tired, you just want to rest a while, but you need to fight, you need to grasp at something, anything, and you need to scream for help.
Call and text everyone you know when you feel your grip loosening. COnnect. As hard as it is, reach out and connect because I know you have a lot of people around you who want to help, who are going to say the wrong thing occasionally, but they want to help.

You don't want to slide. I've fallen, and it's not a pretty place, and it's not an easy climb back up. It hurts now, but it will hurt even more down there.

I'm fine too, you know. But it's ok to not be sometimes.


Pearl Red Moon June 12, 2012 at 11:33 am

Lori, Anonymous – just hang in there. Keep life simple and try to have faith things will get better. There are a million names for your place of despair – hell, depression, PTSD, nervous breakdown…describe it whatever way helps. At the moment you are living in the shadowlands – whatever doesn't kill you will make you stronger. I lived there on and off for about 20 years. You can/will get out without going mad. My way out was being patient and kind to myself, meditation, counting my blessings, walking in my garden and growing plants, doing a kind deed to anybody I met that day….etc. It is just fine to sink utterly into the despair, sorrow and confusion some days. You are not just a survivor but a thriver. Your soul is strong. I was 50 before I found love and happiness….


Anonymous June 12, 2012 at 10:03 am

I need you, Lori.
You don't know me, I've never commented before, but since I found you just over a year ago, you've been 'saving' me everyday. I had a beautiful 'before' life too… The jumbled mess that whirls around in my head is stilled, put into context, and filed away to make space so that I can function each day, because you can put into words (SO well) what I am feeling and (not) coping with each day.
You don't know me, but I've been holding your hand every day. And you've been holding mine.


Madmother June 12, 2012 at 1:25 pm

Oh sweetie, I wish I lived closer.

I know it is hard to trust after a betrayal, it is going on 3 years of obsessive stalking, lying, personal attacks by my two former friends, and still no sign of it ending.

But YOU have TO. You cannot let the actions of some take away what little of you is left after all this. This is the choice I had to make, and I chose to be me, not be what they were trying to turn me into.

xx Stay you.


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