My extraterrestrial abductions story, Part 4
To read Part 3, Part 2 and Part 1 click on the links.
What followed this weird night was a rapid descent into a mental health hellhole. My crippling apathy amped up to a point where I could no longer enjoy anything. I felt devoid of any kind of emotions. I couldn’t feel stress but also couldn’t feel joy either. Life became excruciatingly hard. I broke up with my boyfriend and in retrospect, I am really glad I did. There are certain seasons in life best walked alone. And alone I was.
I still had my physically demanding job. I was pushing near my mid 30’s and exercised to keep fit. With an hour long drive to work, this meant I was up at 4:30 am, would have a workout, got ready for work, and had to be out the door by 6am. Then followed big guys around, crawled around a dirty submarine, drove another hour home, did chores around the house, took my dog for a walk, got some supper and smoked some marijuana, because believe it or not, even after such a day, I had a hard time sleeping.
I remember the last time I went to a restaurant with friends. I was like James Bond. I was scanning all of the exit doors, making sure my seat had its back to a wall so no one could walk behind me. I observed where everyone was sitting, noticing who was drinking. Constantly paying attention to who was leaving and arriving so I always had a body count of how many people were surrounding me at all times. And I did all that while trying to look normal to my friends. I remember spending the night at my friend’s house, not sleeping, only to go home early the next day and take a 20km hike with my dog. I was burning the candle at both ends.
This is where I realized there was something really wrong with me. So I took an appointment with my family doctor. I had to wait 3 weeks to see her which felt brutal. When she did see me, I must have been in pretty bad shape, she found me an appointment with a psychologist within 2 weeks. No waiting 6 months this time around.
I saw the psychologist, described all of my symptoms and how I had behaved at the restaurant and said I had Complex Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. It felt right. But from what??? She explored a few options with me. Told me there was a psychiatrist next door who would see me rapidly if I needed medication. But I wanted to try other cleaner options. I was somewhat relieved because at least now there was a name to my symptoms, which meant I could start my road to recovery. I was already into yoga so maybe I could just go deeper into the practice.
Not even 2 weeks later the phone call came. My mother. She was diagnosed with a deadly cancer. Didn’t see this coming at all. My parents lived in Quebec, I was in Halifax, a 13 hours drive away. I knew my mother would only die once. That which ever way it was all going to go down, there was not going to be a redo. So all of the little energy I had left went to her.
This is where other symptoms appeared. My night sweats became full blown panic attacks. It felt like all of the sudden my bones would turn into icicles. I would get so cold, I would wear sweatpants and a sweatshirt to bed and shake until my body could no more. My hair was falling out. My mind was just a fog belt. It would take me an hour just to do a simple grocery list, yet I knew the layout of the grocery store so I would make my list in such a way that I could be out of there in 20 minutes. On the weekends, sometimes I would drink a lot and play sad classical music just to be able to feel something and daydream. Because I could no longer go out and live life I started dreaming it instead.
I had 3 more appointments with my therapist but they led nowhere. I had heavy trauma symptoms but no trauma to justify the intensity of it. To make matters worse, I got rear ended really hard on my way back from the grocery store one day. Not sure what people mean when they talk about getting their salad tossed but here was mine, laying all over the trunk. So now I had whiplash, couldn’t exercise, couldn’t do my job and my car was a right off. I still showed up, but did little. My body was too sore. The guys at work had known me for 10 years. They knew my work ethic and what was happening with my mom and my accident so no one bothered me. If one thing, they helped me by just asking me to pass tools here and there, make tags and do paperwork.
Life was hard. I was oddly triggered by people trying to reach out to me. On the weekends I would just hide in my log home or in the woods. I didn’t want to be found out but didn’t know why. Emails were triggering me and phone calls. I tried sleeping pills but they would make things worse. It’s like my body was so afraid of falling asleep that if I took a sleeping pill, I would wake up with a racing heart 3 hours later. Like my body just didn’t want to sleep unless it was absolutely necessary. But then a little break came.
In a way of me wanting to take a holistic approach to my healing journey, I booked an appointment with a homeopath. She was really pleasant to talk to. She was a Buddhist, which alone would play a considerable part in my life down the road. She explained to me that my soul was outside of my body. That I was so stressed out that in order to still be able to function, my emotions had to be shut down. That by starting to meditate I could slowly come back into presence. It felt right to me and I was happy because having an actual practice instead of popping pills made me feel I actually had power over my circumstances.
My first meditations were incredibly hard. I was fidgeting, my mind would start racing like crazy and at times I would be overwhelmed with an energy of intense boredom. It wasn’t easy at all but I was committed. I also kept doing very gently yoga with my friend and spent every single one of my vacations with my family. But I felt so awful inside. I was trapped in this weird Earth plane purgatory where I was too alive for the dead but too dead for the living. Like I was just an organic robot performing tasks. And I knew I couldn’t stay there much longer.
2 years had passed since my mother and I diagnosis and the call came. My mother only had very little time left here on Earth. So I went home, in body, definitely not in spirit. When she died I couldn’t cry at her funeral, I was still too shocked in a frozen state. This is where I would like to take a moment to thank my family, who never used this against me or judged me. They knew I wasn’t well and had the wisdom and sensitivity to understand that we all grieve at our pace, and for that I am eternally grateful. Sometimes the most compassionate thing we can do for someone is hold on our judgment.
It has now been 5 years since my mother passed away, and I assure you, I am currently emotionally sound and well. But I had to remember before I could heal. So how did I remember? And what exactly?
To be continued…
continue to Part 5
Thank you for taking the time to read. May your hearts be filled with love and compassion for all that there is.
With kind regards
Izzy🕊✨
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