Things during the internet blackout.

For reasons known only to Time Warner, we had to wait two weeks for someone to come attach a coaxial cable to our modem and then to the wall. That was finally done.

In the interim, we read, V. did a large amount of knitting, I did quite a lot of praying.

I intend to keep that up, ideally forming a strong devotional and meditative habit that will form the backbone of my work for the rest of my life.

I’ve had a lot of unrelenting horrors related to my ptsd happening lately. I’ve never had nightmares like this before — not so many, and not so many days in a row. I’ve been dreaming about being raped since we came up here to look for apartments, in the middle of October. I’ve been having those dreams for a month, many more times a week than not. And lately it’s been every single night, and sometimes more than once. I had to crawl (literally) out of bed and to the door to the living room yesterday, deep enough in the flashbacks that I couldn’t walk or communicate much, but it seems like I looked so bad that V. was up and coming to hold me before I think I’d managed to say anything about what was wrong.

I hope to upload some of the things I wrote (though there is not as much of it as I would have liked, likely due to all of that) tomorrow, and then possibly start picking at the 30 days devotional meme going around. I won’t put any pressure on myself to do the posts every day. I’m not in any psychological state to take on a responsibility. But I would like to do the writing, because I think it would be good for me and good for our relationship. It will also be helpful if I take any of this nudging about working on a book seriously, because they’re nearly all appropriate topics to include and expand upon.

I would like to curl up on R for a few days. He’s had a lot going on lately and we’ve only seen each other a little, though I don’t begrudge him it: he’s primarily busy in a good and happy way. I do miss him, though, particularly due to his having been one of the few things in my life I could depend on, and all of the ptsd being so much like drowning.

I’ve had the “Do I need to go to the hospital?” conversation, but I don’t know what they could do for me. I’m not a danger to myself. My memory is a danger to me.

And then: the Eviction

Despite promises and long discussions and other things, our situation went from stable with long-term plans safely in place, to “You have six months to get out” in half a day.

And so, tomorrow, we begin at a frantic pace to try to get housing much sooner than six months because no one feels comfortable in a situation where many, many acquaintances are suddenly showering us with ill will and threats. Because we took V in. Because this deeply violated the boundaries and whatnot and all else of the woman whose house this is. The conversations we had about it, and the rent, and everything else were had while she was “in denial” that we “would ever do something like this to [her].”

I thoroughly cleansed and warded this room last night, and V slept much better, and longer than he had been, and woke up much more peaceful. I’ll keep it up for all of our sakes.

I’ve had a tremendous stress headache today, and people have been over downstairs, including one of the ones threatening us, so we’ve not budged except to creep to the bathroom. This is a fairly rare thing but makes it clear to me that we need to have some nonperishables on hand for the days when we need to avoid all contact with guests and therefore the kitchen until they leave. Thankfully, I suppose, my appetite disappears completely when I’m stressed, and I was the one awake the entire time.

They ordered dinner, and I put in for some safe food for us. Which, despite appetite issues, and being less than fond of some of the ingredients, I devoured it. Thank the gods for a stomach that has its own ideas, I suppose. I’ll make something in a couple of hours that I won’t find so disagreeable and maybe scrape into a not-starving arena of intake.

On Tuesday, we will be able to go shopping. I wonder if some semi-high calorie foods might be good for two of us. Something like nuts, which I can soak so my body will get along with them better, and are entirely good nutrition.

Brand is quiet, somewhat distant, trying to figure a way out of this situation and into something stable and safe sooner than yesterday. But he wrote a long post about Loki and Heimdall and various other things, that some people may find very interesting.

It was heavily recommended by my therapist that I ruthlessly practice shamatha and get the rest of them to do it, too, if we were going to stay anything resembling sane. I have some home study classes popping up that I should listen to, as well. Since Thursday, I haven’t been able to do anything but feel frozen in horror. Friday I did the Confession to the 35 Buddhas, Saturday was spent very frozen, and today has been… the wobbling needle on the richter scale.

My neck hurts in a shamatha-problematic fashion, because it seems to be demanding support beyond what my spine can give it, and I’m a notorious faller-asleeper when meditating propped up in bed. Maybe with my wavering focus and occasional wafts of terror, mantras might work out better.

It’s strange to reach towards one’s god and feel them very annoyed, or possibly angry, on your behalf, and I don’t really know how to react to it.

“Duh, of course he’s protective of you,” Brand says.

But he is withdrawn at the moment and the loneliness sits heavily on me. Likely to avoid potentially triggering me/causing me to feel unsafe, because angry people frighten me on a basic animal level. No matter how much they love me.