Finally, the tiniest bit of justice

I’m guessing a lot of people won’t have heard of the Criminal Injuries Compensation Authority (CICA). I certainly hadn’t until a few years ago, when I attempted to prosecute my brother for the abuse he subjected me to as a child. The police were unable to take the case to court, but they urged me…

I’m back on medication. Hooray.

I’ve had to back down on my hard line ‘no meds’ policy and ask my GP to write me up for something to help my anxiety. After weeks of averaging about 3 hours sleep per night and struggling with extreme agitation in the evenings, it was hard to argue that it wasn’t needed. My moods…

83 Days in and I’d rather not be sober

Today I’m a week off achieving 90 days of sobriety, but it feels like I’m not going to make it. The cravings have been less constant on the whole, but in the past few days they’ve returned with a vengeance. I fell asleep last night wanting a drink. I woke up this morning wanting a…

Craving a disaster

I’m holding it together but it’s taking every ounce of strength. It shouldn’t be a surprise that fighting is harder than defeat. Every tiny step forward is a leap of faith, as I push on into the unknown. I’m doing it. The things they’ve all been telling me to do for years now. Some courage…

The double horror of flashbacks

It’s been months since I had a proper flashback. By ‘proper’, I mean full-on, not being able to tell what’s real, immersion in my past trauma. That awful experience of really, fully reliving it. In comparison, I get a lot of body memories and intrusive images. Those feel dreadful, but when they come up I…

65 Days sober. It’s chaotic, but better.

The past week has been far from uneventful. I intended to write to mark 60 days of sobriety, but I’ve only just managed to order my thoughts enough to try and formulate this post. The past weekend was fraught with distressing peripheral events. As J was quick to point out in therapy on Tuesday; it’s…