I mostly just post photos of my pets.
When did I become this person? Unclear. Am I embarrassed of it? Probably.
I think back fondly to the time when I had stunning cultural analyses to share, every day, all day, endlessly, impressing at least myself with my witty responses to whatever I needed to be witty about. I’d share articles I had read that angered or enlightened me. I’d post them with a recap. I’d have things to say. I’d believe those things were worth saying. I’d wait for the world to respond.
Now it’s kitten, puppy, dog, puppy, kitten, all the animals. Kitten in a ball. Puppy on the ground. Me, vaguely delighted. Unsure when I became that person.
Untrue. I know exactly when I became that person: I became that person when my mental health quite literally collapsed this summer.
I didn’t wake up one day to Mental Collapse, as if it were on the agenda. It had been building for a few years, maybe a couple of decades if we’re really gonna get technical, but around June I started writing things in my journal like “I feel really, really strange,” and “I can’t access my thoughts.” “There is something terribly wrong with me.”
Look, there was a time in the not too distant past when if you told me “My mental health doesn’t allow me to engage beyond cat photos,” I would have told you to grow the hell up. I would have tried to hide my eye roll and I would have failed. I would have asked myself what kind of delicate rose petal backs away from life because they truly cannot engage. As if that’s a thing!
But my life has been a series of lessons on things I’m wrong about, and I was wrong about that. My deep belief that powering through is always an option could be in part why I find myself here now; not only the universe’s way to level that which must be leveled, but because it shows how little I understood the power of the brain to remove one’s capacity to function in the world.
It is possible to collapse. It is also possible, if you ignore your body’s signs for long enough, that your brain can shut down. There will be no “powering through.” There will be only a powering down.
They really should rename that book “The Body Keeps the Score, and it will Fucking Win.”
You can only run for so long.
As an aside, this if the first time I’ve been able to write this many words in a very long time, so please celebrate with me.
Also, IN MY FUCKING DEFENSE, have you seen my animals? They are very cute. There are four now. It’s a long story.
Whatever, I want to talk about the most boring, overused word ever. Stress.
“Stress” is one of those things I heard about for so long for so many years by doctors and wellness people (puke, stop) and People Who Know Shit that I categorically denied it as a thing that mattered. If you’re having trouble following that logic, join the club. I’m simply reporting the facts here.
It’s almost like it becomes white noise, the whir of a fan, the hum of a dryer. It’s so constant you don’t notice it anymore.
No but seriously: Stress kills, stress makes you sick, stress causes cancer, stress atrophies your hippocampus, stress hurts your back,
stress
stress
stress
stress
fuck you.
All life is stress, ya assholes. “Reduce stress.” Like how? Get rid of my kids? Stop earning money? Live in a different country (this applies to both my time in the US on account of its shithole country status, and here in The Netherlands on account of it not being my shithole country).
But here’s what happened, reader: I had a mental break in the form of my brain simply checking the fuck out. It went full dissociation on me. Yes, I have a mental health diagnosis that I’m not going to go into now that makes me more susceptible to dissociation from chronic stress and anxiety, but y’all—damn.
I spent a week at an inpatient mental health facility, and then my brain left my body. I developed dissociative anxiety disorders called depersonalization and derealization. Apparently the treatment was “too much for me.” lol understatement.
It is very hard to explain but it essentially felt like I was outside of my body. When I would talk to people, it was like somebody else was talking from inside of me. I had no idea where the voice was coming from. I couldn’t trace its source. I knew intellectually that I was standing on a street talking to Mac, but what it felt like was somebody else was inside of me talking to Mac. I realize this makes no sense. Try being the one feeling it.
And if you have no idea what I’m talking about, please consider yourself “blessed.” Or something.
The world around me felt like a video game. Like there was this 100-foot wall between us. I could see through it; I knew I was in the world. But I would look at cars coming down the street and not understand how close they were to me. Would I get hit? I was unable to judge distances. Lights and sounds became sudden and disconnected. I got so afraid of how I felt, how foreign the world became, I didn’t leave my house for two full weeks. As in, I did not step outside. That made it worse.
There were no decipherable thoughts in my brain. Or, perhaps better said, thoughts would pop up but I couldn’t find the source of them, or follow them, or develop them. Friends it’s so, so weird.
I could not work or write for more than an hour on my very best days. Hence the cat photos. And if you’re my friend, the lack of communication.
My vision was blurry. Sometimes my head would fall backwards, and my eyes fall shut from the weight and dizziness of the heavy ass head and empty brain. When I say literally could not engage, I mean literally.
Before I had a name for what was happening to me, I began genuinely fearing that I was going insane and may hurt someone. I wondered if this is what it felt like before a psychotic break. I began panicking multiple times a day, thinking if I didn’t get out of this, I couldn’t stay alive. I began to understand why people sometimes end their own lives when they receive a diagnosis of early dementia or other degenerative brain diseases. I didn’t want to die, but I would not live my life like that: No thoughts, no memory, no ability to think, no joy, no connection, no nothing.
I told Mac this as if it were a mere statement of fact. But honestly, the idea that I may STAY like that, and according to the internet forums on depersonalization and derealization, “almost everybody” stays like that. I DO NOT RECOMMEND INTERNET FORUMS. (Why don’t we learn? Why do we always go back?)
But my therapist flatly told me, over and over: You will not stay like this. This is your brain thinking it’s protecting you. If you reduce stress and anxiety, you will teach your brain that it’s safe to “return,” and you will come back. I had to trust her. And what she was saying made sense.
At least it made more sense than, “And one day, your brain left, and it never returned, and then you died.”
This started in earnest in July. It is now November. I had my first mostly “normal” day four days ago. And now, I’m writing to you. By this evening, I may be gone again.
But I will come back. I will always keep coming back.
I’m not sure why exactly I’m writing to you. I guess I have a few things to say. One, I’ve missed you.
I’ve missed myself. I miss the me that had something to say to you, the person that wanted to chat and rant and engage and hang out.
I want to say that sometimes people really are struggling that much, and it doesn’t mean they’ve just moved to Europe and found peace and now just post pictures of the cat’s toe fluff.
It doesn’t mean they don’t care about social and political issues. It doesn’t mean they aren’t scraping the cell walls with everything they’ve got to claw their way back to you. I think we need to go easier on each other. I think we need to stop projecting our shit onto others as if our individual lives are universal.
Am I kinder? Am I a life coach now? Why is life always trying to make me nicer? WHOSE IDEAS WAS THIS.
I also understand now, all the way to my bones, that the internal life is all life is. There’s nothing else. All this external shit, it’s window dressing. Some sprinkles. Who I am, what I am, what makes this life a wild and vibrant thing, comes from within me. I am the one who jumps into a river in Spain and makes it mean something. I am the one who synthesizes and creates from the beauty and pain around me. It’s possible to have it all washed into neutrality, to walk through it like a Marvel robot—and it’s death.
In a way I feel a love and compassion for myself (puke) for the first time– feeling, after all, that I’d give just about anything to experience that asshole again. Why was I so hard on her?
To think and create and desire. To contemplate and grow confused and seek to understand. To follow a train of thought for hours, to write for more hours, to remember yesterday, last week, what I read this morning. To move through the world with a sense of self and personality and my feet on this fucked-up, broken ground.
I begged to return no matter how hard it was. I begged to move through the world again as the person I was quite awful to. Perhaps only those who’ve been through this will understand how I can talk about myself in third person. But if you’ve ever had your Self ripped from you, reduced to a zombie walking through the world through a thick fog of numb, empty distance, with no ability to access the part of you that lives and creates and feels, you will understand what I’m saying here.
We are, to put it bluntly, no matter how fucked up, better than nothing.
I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: I must believe it’s all leading somewhere. Over the years a lot of you have been quite worried about me, probably able to see what I couldn’t see myself. Slow down, settle down, calm down. I couldn’t, though, you understand. Because when I did, I would find myself here.
Whatever I’m going through is the hardest thing I’ve ever experienced. It somehow makes getting sober look like a cakewalk. Perhaps what I’m living through now is getting to the bottom of why I ran straight to whiskey as my main life hack. Perhaps this is the scorecard finalized. I guess it all led me here. And I’ll find myself on a new ground, made just for me, no longer running, and that much more alive.
Until then,
Mary Beth
Saturday, 5 November, 2022 at 7:50Thank you, thank you. I’m listening.
Andrea
Saturday, 5 November, 2022 at 7:57I feel you and I see you… We always come back, I´ve been wandering around some obscure places as well lately, trying to make sense of everything, I haven´t lost myself, but I lost my son, and everything stopped making sense… I am back now, I am here and I am enjoying this shit show called life more than ever. I am glad you are here, I can feel how hard you are fighting… You are not alone, I am holding your hand, many of us are holding each other hands, to wherever life will lead us. Oh, and I got myself a third cat FFS!
Melanie
Saturday, 5 November, 2022 at 8:13It’s so good to hear your voice again. As always, thank you for sharing the raw thoughts that are hard to put into words. You do that beautifully. Keep healing, keep being kind to yourself. You’ll find yourself again. My sister is dealing with something similar and these are the words I’d want someone to remind her of regularly.
Julie
Saturday, 5 November, 2022 at 8:21The battle may be lonely but you are not alone. Many of us will encounter eachother at different times in those dark, empty, obscure corners. We see you and you see us. Keep coming back, we all need you and each other.
Katie L
Saturday, 5 November, 2022 at 8:22My heart goes out to Janelle, and I miss you.
Diana
Saturday, 5 November, 2022 at 8:26I don’t have words of wisdom, just that I can relate and I love you from afar. I was lost most of my childhood and observed myself walking through life from a perch up in the corner of the ceiling. I didn’t know that living from that place was not “normal” until I was 20. Since then I have come and gone several times, with lots of therapy, and many kinds fucking personal growth work. Your Mac reminds me of my husband. Crane operator with work worn hands, magic with our babies, loved me well. He died at the beginning of COVID. Since then I have come and gone almost daily. Traveling mercies to you and me and all of us.
Lindsay
Saturday, 5 November, 2022 at 8:27Janelle,
Something similar happened to me in 2021 and I fully believe it was a result of overfunctioning for 2 decades, being an asshole to myself, and prioritizing all the wrong shit. Literal shut down of all systems. It was the scariest fucking thing ever. It gave me new found compassion for people with mental health struggles who we tell to just pull themselves together. This is not on the menu during times like this. It’s a caccoon or chrysalis from which we hopefully re-emerge, but not unscathed. I’ve been wondering how you are, suspecting some shit was going down. All the best to you.
Jennifer
Saturday, 5 November, 2022 at 8:40I had my own shut down in 2003. It was definitely years in the making and it took a couple of years to come back. I stopped accepting the unacceptable finally so that’s something. I am now a Recovery Coach because I worked too hard for my experience and this is how I make it make sense. I reach back for the others drowning in this ocean so they can find a boat. Wishing you love and healing as you find your own boat. Recovery is weird.
Suzanne
Tuesday, 8 November, 2022 at 20:11So sorry to hear what you are going through. I found it relatable in some ways & I believe we do need to share more about struggles like this. They are real. Thank you for sharing. I have enjoyed your writing over the years
Paige
Saturday, 5 November, 2022 at 8:28It’s good to hear from you. I’m glad to know you’re clawing your way back. You matter in this world.
Lorain
Saturday, 5 November, 2022 at 8:38I almost got in our car and drove to…… nowhere. I only stopped because I could not move. I hate that you are going through this, and I feel both grateful and distressed that you have shared it.I don’t know what is happening now. To anybody.
Emily
Saturday, 5 November, 2022 at 8:41I’m sending you so much love. I’ve experienced something very similar a few months ago and I’m slowly coming back to myself now. Be gentle with yourself, keep fighting.
Kari
Saturday, 5 November, 2022 at 8:46Fuck. I get it. Depersonalization is scary “AF” (as the kids say” and sometimes all we can do is post pet photos. (Did I mention we have two dogs, four cats, a beta fish and a bearded dragon?)
The body remembers and it sucks. And by you posting this it made me understand/remember why I went through my own little bout if depersonalization/depression a few weeks ago because although we forget our bodies are more than happy to slap us upside the brain and say “HA I DID NOT FORGET.”
You are loved, as are the photos of your pets.
Anneke Gaul
Saturday, 5 November, 2022 at 9:05Thank you for explaining some things here that I now recognize because of your words, around “the internal life is all life is”. Helpful and also hopeful in a strange way. Much love to you and all of us here in our struggles for life.
Ruth
Saturday, 5 November, 2022 at 9:11Waving in the gloom. Glad to see you again through the chink in the clouds. Its a tricky world to negotiate at the moment if you’re not a complete arsehole, and there’s a big crowd of us in various stages of dissociation just to get through the painfulness. Not listening to the news, shutting down to a small circle of people people we can trust, just trying to deal with the things we actually have any control over and letting go of the other stuff.
May you be surrounded with love and lifted back into your body which is worthy of all the love. May you feel the sharp pricks of joy and sadness and all of the things again, and may you have a magical sky hook lift that heavy head back onto your shoulders
Much love Janelle, you’re not an arsehole, which is why it all hurts too much sometimes to feel it all. Here’s to kitten floof to keep the gloom at bay. Xx
Amy
Saturday, 5 November, 2022 at 9:14I don’t think you write for kudos, but wanted to respond anyways and thank you for your amazing post, and for how you described dissociative processes, and some of the struggles you’ve had that have gotten you to present day. As a clinician, I try to tell clients that when trauma shows up, it’s sometimes because the brain recognizes enough good strategies and resources have been put in motion that it can bring you down/back/into whatever it is that’s at the root of things and is confident you can go through and come out the other side. I dunno if that’s how you experience it yet, but it’s what I’ve learned about trauma. But it’s fuckin scary shit, to be sure. I’m glad you’ve got support and got help, and that you share it with others like this; I hope the sharing is also helping you. All kitten and puppy and child and Dutch life pictures always welcomed and encouraged; I love it over there! And if you happen to meet a lovely woman named Sanne Bloemers, tell her I said hi. 🙂
Virginia Tauseef
Saturday, 5 November, 2022 at 9:16I love your posts because you keep it real. I understand where you are at because once I was diagnosed with PTSD and anxiety and I was in a fog for about 2 years. I came back but the darn things pop up when I least expect it. All we can do is take it one day at a time and hope for the best. Keep hanging in there. You are stronger than you think. It does get better, I promise.
Nicholena
Saturday, 5 November, 2022 at 9:24Oh Janelle besides the adorableness of your floof photos so please kerp those coming you are still an inspiration and deep well of experience that helps us all feel better about maybe, just maybe dealing with life!
Ellen
Saturday, 5 November, 2022 at 10:14Janelle I am so so sorry you are dealing with this, and I am beyond grateful you are sharing with us and finding a way to write while you are getting reoriented. Stress is REAL and weird and elusive and the water we swim in and it can be so hard to address and mitigate and come out of. I have my own journey with that. Lots of love to you and your family and to Mac for his support of you, and esp. to you for always coming back, and showing us how and that we can, too.
Elizabeth
Saturday, 5 November, 2022 at 11:35“I must believe it’s all leading somewhere”
I know, I know – me, too. Got to hang onto that belief (knowing?) that it’s an unfolding journey and that even times like this are . . . uh . . . important? (not fun, not nice, not blessed dammit – but important). Thank you for speaking so clearly, like a bell ringing through this fog. Keep going. Keep going.
Hadley Rose
Saturday, 5 November, 2022 at 12:19❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️
Peggy
Saturday, 5 November, 2022 at 12:30We love you. Thank you for coming back. I hope you stay.
Katy
Saturday, 5 November, 2022 at 13:07Thank you for letting me know I’m not alone. You described so close to how I’ve been feeling but have not been able put into words. Even the getting sober cake walk. This is a wild time. I’ll be sharing your words in therapy this week. You have helped me by writing and sharing the hard fucking truths. Your words have verbalized so much for me over these last 13 years. I appreciate you and hope you get all the grace and peace we all deserve. Sending
Laurie
Saturday, 5 November, 2022 at 13:25One therapist told me, in the midst of a major depression/anxiety spinout, “at the very least, be as kind to yourself as you would be to any stranger’s child.” And why is that so hard? I try every day; sometimes I can do it.
Be as kind to yourself as you can.
Sarah
Saturday, 5 November, 2022 at 13:52I have missed your stories, and the photos of George and Arlo (and Rocket, Mac and Ava – but especially George and Arlo). Wishing you the best as you continue to take life on life’s terms. Sending you warm thoughts and virtual hugs.
Jessica
Saturday, 5 November, 2022 at 14:31Thank you for being you. Sending love
Miranda
Saturday, 5 November, 2022 at 15:47This hits so close to home. I know DP/DR very well, and it’s some scary shit. My own “nervous breakdown” (as I’ve been calling it, because it was my nervous system just noping the fuck out) happened in August, and sometimes I fear I will never return to my previous capacity again. For me, the reason for all this has been autistic burnout. Living in a neurotypical world my whole life, undiagnosed, unrecognized (until 3 years ago), and unsupported/unaccommodated. It caused C-PTSD. I’ve experienced several bouts of burnout, but this one has been next level. At one point, I couldn’t figure out how to stand up and leave a room, my brain just couldn’t make it happen. Communicating has been so much more difficult, like my thoughts/ideas are an amorphous blob that I can’t grab onto or organize, much less translate into words.
I remember you posting a few years ago that someone suggested you might be autistic, and you were not happy about it, and I get that. I’m not saying I think you are, but I feel like it would be really shitty of me to not mention it seems worth looking into. And maybe you have. I only know the tiny bits you share. But for me, figuring it out saved my life and brought me to my community. And if nothing else, maybe someone else resonates with my comment, and maybe it could help them to figure out why.
So many fucking wonderful and talented people are autistic. The #actuallyautistic hashtag on Instagram, Yo Samdy Sam on YouTube, and the book Unmasking Autism by Dr. Devon Price have all been invaluable resources.
Sending so much of the good stuff to you, Janelle. Feel free to toss my thoughts straight out the window if you’d like to; maybe they’re garbage! Either way, you’re not alone in any of this.
Heidi
Saturday, 5 November, 2022 at 16:22Thank you for your honesty. I hope (pray?) both of our brains feel safe enough to return to us…
Julie Hickey
Saturday, 5 November, 2022 at 16:56Thank you for sharing this deeply raw and personal story. Sending you strength from Davis, CA.
Rachel Smith
Saturday, 5 November, 2022 at 18:55I’m so glad you’re back, and so very sorry for what you’ve been through. I hope you find this is the start of your way back to feeling better.
I’m not sure if you’re aware of Anna Spargo Ryan (a brilliant Australian author who writes a lot about mental health). I’ve just finished her memoir. A lot of what you said above, what you’ve been going through, has been her experience too, so I thought I’d just share if you wanted to track her down. The book is called A Kind of Magic.
Big big hugs to you, and here’s to better days ahead. xx
Kathy
Saturday, 5 November, 2022 at 21:42Wrapping you in love, Janelle. You are a sacred being. I love you and am grateful for all you create, infuse, digest. Take your time and love yourself. You are precious.
Niki
Sunday, 6 November, 2022 at 5:29Words like yours are what the world needs. We see you.
I don’t know if you’ve read the book by Colleen Hoover, “It Ends With Us” but, reading that book gave me an appreciation for people in domestic violence situations. I naively thought, “why don’t they just leave?” Until reading her words I didn’t grasp the physiological hold DV takes; as someone who’d never been in that situation. I needed her words to be a better person. Similarly, until someone like yourself can articulate the innermost feelings and thoughts of a situation many will go though life wondering why someone can’t just “push through”. I commend your bravery sharing, and am glad you’re here. Thank you, and I’m sending all my love.
Dee
Sunday, 6 November, 2022 at 11:16It has happened to my sister three times. It is terrifying to watch someone you love walk through and I can only imagine more terrifying to experience. You write about it so well ❤
Donna
Monday, 7 November, 2022 at 1:07Thank you for taking time out of your first normal for a while to share with us. I truly appreciate you and the effort you take to share the things most would hide but some need to hear.
Jennifer
Monday, 7 November, 2022 at 11:23Thank you for sharing. I love your pet pictures. Especially the new fluffball kitty.
Jessica
Monday, 7 November, 2022 at 17:12Any foray into the depths is mental illness is so incredibly humbling. It makes me so incredibly grateful for each day that just feels normal. This too shall pass and you will get through it. I highly recommend l the book ‘The wild edge of sorrow, rituals of renewal and the sacred work of grief’ by Frances Weller. May it shine a light on the dark places for you. Sending strength and love your way.
Renee’
Monday, 7 November, 2022 at 17:33My heart really hurts for you Janelle. I went through something like that but was “drugged” just enough to be able to function in everyday life. I wish I could hug you to help you through this! You will make it. You are so strong and you have been so very missed! Just tell us what you are going through and we will be hear listening……
Tabatha
Tuesday, 8 November, 2022 at 18:37Read Jenny Lawson. No joke. I am sending you so much love
Sarah
Wednesday, 23 November, 2022 at 10:21Oh man. The first thing I read of yours all those years ago was something you wrote about becoming a mother and how you died to live. Up until this point it was probably the most personally touching and hard hitting thing I had ever read…and now you’ve don’t it again. After so many years of so much trauma I can relate to these things so much it just made me cry. I’ve never heard anyone describe what this feels like so well. I didn’t even know that it was something that other people also experienced. Even writing this now I’m not entirely sure how much sense I’m making but I’m going to try anyway. I have to believe that there will be light again, that this is not forever. This brings me hope and helps me feel less alone. Thank you. Once again, thank you. I am so sorry you are going through this, but thank you for sharing. This too shall pass. For you, for me, and for anyone else who may be experiencing this. Much love. Also, I hope this makes sense ha ha.
Amy
Sunday, 27 November, 2022 at 19:25Janelle—almost 10 years of reading your work. You keep shining light on the jagged parts of life that others might try to erase. “This exists,” you write; and so we exist, those of us who experience the same jaggedness.
Denise
Monday, 28 November, 2022 at 13:32Thank you for sharing this. For me, the way out of the abyss is community. It’s the answer you gave when we were suffering post election, your Thursday nights. Years ago I implemented those Thursday nights, and I got so close to those families. We’re in a different place now, but I remembered your words and came back to reread them today and that’s what I need. I’m ready to start Thursday night dinners to create new community. I’m just going to invite people until something new is built.
I wish you well.
Dayna Harris
Tuesday, 29 November, 2022 at 4:54Thank you for your bravery and honesty.
Be patient with and kind to yourself.
C
Tuesday, 29 November, 2022 at 5:03Huge hugs!!! The body keeps the score plus EMDR have changed my life, also realizing female Asperger’s is different than the typically described male version. Thank you for writing.
K
Tuesday, 29 November, 2022 at 8:43So very grateful for all of you, every layer. You are such a gift. Much love and hope for you. May you never stop clawing your way back. Life is torturous, the light finds its way in.
Petra
Tuesday, 29 November, 2022 at 9:02This will feel cuckoo, but give it a try. Take the quietest corner of the apartment and move a small desk or shelf there. Clean it deliberately. Then find items that are symbols of your personality and place them in an arrangement that feels right. Pen, notebook, flower, favorite cup and spoon, an important letter, a picture. If this looks like an altar, it is. It is a physical manifestation of the holy parts of you, that currently don’t have a home but float around in space in different countries and cultures and can’t settle. And if after a day you find this arrangement pretentious, ridiculous, embarrassing or superfluous, instead of lustful and “holy”, you now have the proof that there is a problem with you valuing and owning your own space. The question then is, if you are not owning your space, who is?
I’m wondering if you ever “took up space” anywhere and instead existed in temporary “camps” and made an artform out of the survival skill to permanently live in a mental suitcase. This can work for many years, but eventually, the older we get, the more we need to physically “exist”, or we literally lose our minds. Settling does not happen automatically if your childhood training was that you should be okay with less space and manifestation than what a human being needs to survive. You had the wise instinct to pick a solid, real, historic place that fits perfectly for the inner task to learn to “manifest”. But it could be that you don’t have anyone to guide you through this process, other than your instincts that fight a daily battle against your automated emotional reflexes. It seems there is nobody who coaches you and keeps you on the path when every fiber of your being tries to prevent you from settling, and even goes so far as to pack your brain in cotton or removes it from the situatiohn so it literally can’t think. The brain fog is a reflex we get when the mind thinks it is in a dangerous situation. It would be good to have an accountability partner who makes you keep a journal to write down exactly when the brain fog reflex appears, what happened in that moment, what triggered it, and then to slowly force your brain to recognize the moment as it happens, to “stay” in it and see what childhood emotions triggered the fog. Maybe you need to switch therapists to do this effectively.
You can still come out victoriously with this move, but it sounds like there is nobody to help you identify and reduce the CPTSD reflexes you have. Psychiatrists are bad in the US, but a lot worse in Europe. It might help to start watching some videos on CPTSD, codependency and narcissism. It seems that you might also have ADD. All of these are trained emotional reflexes we never “question”. It’s a matter of daily work to errode them to start to learn to live in the moment. You already did the right thing to pyhsically move yourself into a situation where you “have to” bild a new home which triggers the faulty reflexes. Now you need clarity as to what that means emotionally and how to learn to really build a home and exist in it. I get a bad feeling when you talk about people labeling your current mental situation as a mental ilness. This makes it really difficult to understand and work with CPTSD.
Hope this helped somehow. I’d start with the altar, the youtube videos and the mental fog journal. These three alone should already go far. And I do think you need to switch therapists.
Lorain
Tuesday, 29 November, 2022 at 9:43Oh, Janelle. I know.
Judith Bryant
Tuesday, 29 November, 2022 at 10:33Oh honey. Sometimes life sucks (us down). Welcome back, whenever you feel like writing. I’ve missed you.
Jill Leversee
Wednesday, 30 November, 2022 at 13:16I am so grateful for you clawing your way out to share your voice and your experience with us. Keep on fucking going, mama- meaning keep finding the things that bring you back to yourself and say yes to more of them and clarify the things that take you away from yourself and say no to them. I am rooting for you.
Jen
Saturday, 14 January, 2023 at 14:38Janelle,
We don’t know each other, but I’ve been following you for maybe 15 years? You’ve been an inspiration for my own writing and identity and livelihood. I’m so thankful for what you put out there into the world. I find it interesting that you just wrote this, on the heels of something I wrote about my own dance in the dark corners of my mind in December. What you’ve shared here resonates and feels so familiar…and I gotta say there must be something in the fucking air we breathe and fucked up world we live in that is contributing to this collective stress and the resulting depression. My brain checked out on me too, and then my wife almost checked out on me because I was so far gone that she thought our relationship was too. It’s some scary shit, and the most fucked up part about it is that I was ENJOYING it (some of the time; the rest of the time I was in a constant state of frozen panic). Depression is a sexy motherfucker. But I came back, and I will keep coming back, and I know that this too shall pass.
Duncan
Sunday, 5 February, 2023 at 11:26Doing absolutely nothing, and allowing yourself to do absolutely nothing is the most under-rated thing, and can be really hard, to allow yourself to guilt-free leave everything, the whole to-do list, and do nothing for a while. But it sure helps.
Risa
Friday, 17 March, 2023 at 16:14I hear you. I see you. I’ve had the same dissociative issues since I got long COVID the first week of lockdown here in the States, and man, the days where it feels like moving through the world is like trying to operate a mecha I don’t have the manual for are…hard, and more often than I’d like. Going into a Target or a grocery store or anywhere with a lot of people is just setting a timer on when I’ll start dissociating now. It’s…gotten better? I have more time now? but unless I’ve got somebody I trust with me, it’s still inevitable. Humans are still Scary, which gives my extrovert self allllll the cognitive dissonance. I stay home far too much. My executive function just fucking doesn’t, far too much of the time. Even going outside to access my workshop is next to impossible some days.
…which is all to say, I don’t know you, but I grok. I am sorry that you are in this sinking ship with me and a terrifying amount of other people. I hope we figure out a way to patch our ship.
Rogan
Sunday, 2 April, 2023 at 11:05I find that mindfulness training every day really helps, like building a muscle, slowly over time. The first few days I never noticed a change in my stress levels, but after a few weeks I noticed I was better able to handle stressful environments, I think mostly down to doing 10 minutes of the meditation a day.
Be kind to yourself