So according to my new Fitbit, I was “restless” on 10 separate occasions last night. I’m not sure what’s considered “normal,” but 10 seems like a lot of restlessness. I’m sure that my anxiety over lunch plans with my dad today and, oh yeah my period is 4 days late so that contributes to my anxiety; and then just the general stress and exhaustion from Christmas….oh and my aunt got high and crashed her car in the woods a couple days ago and the police found her in the woods yesterday and now she’s in rehab….fuck Christmas was more stressful than I had anticipated.

Anyway, I’m rambling now. So funny thing – I thought I had slept great, but apparently not…thanks Fitbit. 

Today I went to gentle yoga with a teacher that I like and trust. The last pose of the class: restorative fish. I took a deep breath and put myself into the pose. I’m ok. I’m safe. I’m ok. And I was….but then suddenly I wasn’t.

I was struggling to stay present. Counting the slats on the ceiling and running through every part of my body that was touching the ground.

Out of no where, the instructor lifted up my head and started adjusting my neck roll to add more height. And in that moment, I was gone. I’ve never been touched while I’m trying to prevent a flashback…except for during sex. As soon as that happened today, the moment she touched me, even though she asked if it was ok as she had her hands on my head, I couldn’t be mindful anymore. I couldn’t control my breath or my shaking or my mind. I couldn’t stay present. 

I got out of the pose after a few more moments and went into child’s pose. I felt bad because I know the instructor was trying to help. To her, I’m sure it looked like the pose was uncomfortable. She knows I have anxiety and PTSD, but I’ve never had an issue with her touching me before – she practices reiki and I feel really safe with her. I wish I could’ve found the words to tell her not to touch me this time. 

After yoga, I was supposed to meet my dad for lunch. I called, but he didn’t answer. I waited around for a few minutes and then decided to head closer to my house (about 7 miles up the interstate). He called me back around 11:30 this morning – 30 mins after we were supposed to get lunch. He asked where I was. When I told him, he said he didn’t really feel like driving that far (that extra 7 miles), and that he would get in touch with me again in a few weeks. My heart sank. I was instantly 9 years old again, sitting on my front porch waiting for my dad to come pick me up for the weekend. I waited for over 2 hours that night before he finally called and said he wasn’t coming. Almost 20 years later, that heartache is still so raw. And today, I wasn’t even worth an extra 7 miles. 

I try to remind myself that it’s him, not me. I try to remember that he’s an alcoholic and addict, and he isn’t capable of putting anyone before himself. I try not to be disappointed or hurt or angry. But the reality is: I am. I don’t understand why I am not worthy of that extra 7 mile drive, or why he doesn’t make more of an effort to keep his promises, or why he didn’t protect me when I was little. My eyes sting as I fight back tears from the anger – anger towards him and towards myself. I should have never answered the phone yesterday when he called. Eventually, I will have to make a decision about whether or not I am going to keep trying to incorporate my dad into my life. Maybe I’ll add that to my goals for 2017.

I spent my afternoon shopping and practicing my headstand. Restorative yoga and reiki tonight (hopefully) and therapy tomorrow. 

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