I'm back, we're back, with some partial updates. As much as I can recall, my head is so full I may just write all goddamned day. And the internet always seems so gleefully happy when I'm at my lowest.
He came back before midnight sometime on Sunday night. I had fallen asleep on the porch swing and I woke up and Jacob was there with his head on the swing, staring at me, sitting on the floor. Watching me sleep. Stroking my hair, whispering things I never heard, again. His solace.
We didn't even say anything out loud, just kissed a long kiss good night and went to bed. Blessed sweet relief. Jake was back, we were back. Spoons. Still together, still working on getting through each hour. No promises were broken that night. He let his frustration get the better of him. It's okay. I forget he is human because he's super-human to me. A lot of people have told me when I write about him it comes out that he sounds critical and impatient. He's not. He's so loving you wouldn't believe it. He's got a very dry delivery with his offhand comments that just doesn't translate to this page.
Yesterday morning I squeezed in an emergency session with Claus (doctor/therapist who looks like Santa, remember?). We're going to start the very scary immersion/exposure therapy methods. Not for the physical fears because those Cole mostly took with him when he died. This is for the brainwashing, because I'm still pushing Jake away when the doubts creep in, I have this bizarre allegiance to Cole that isn't going away. I'm not sure why one fear would go away without the other but Claus was quick to point out that a 5-minute uncharacteristic attack is far removed from years of subliminal or forced compliance. So, no, I don't love Cole anymore. That is proof enough to me that I'm not crazy. And it's proof to Jake that we're not fighting a losing battle and that we haven't gotten this far for naught. Proof that it's also not just about us and he has to have just a little, okay a lot more patience. Cole really fucked me up and I had no idea. I got another label too, to add to my bouquet: depression. Oh joy. I expected that one first.
The concessions come in here. The medications are upped again and this time I actually have to take them. Not once in a while but every day. Three times a day. No alcohol, None. No driving. No operating stoves and power tools.
I'm going back to zombie-world, my friends.
Claus insists that half my problem is that I'm completely unmedicated and using alcohol and the fear and the unreasonableness just take over. If I can quash it with meds eventually the good feelings will stay on top and that's when I make the most progress. Suppressing the demons will suffocate them while I get a whopping dose of constant overlapping psychotherapy. Unreal. I would like to resurrect Cole and kill him again. Oh good, Bridget, use your anger! Right now I've been mostly running around completely unsupported drug-wise because I never gave the pills a chance to build up and start working. I'm so sorry. Claus thinks it's remarkable that I haven't launched myself off a high bridge. Yeah, you're not alone there. But doesn't this mean I'm doing alright? No, he said.
I'm quashing the pregnancy rumors permanently here because birth control is an absolute must with this level of medication. Not to mention I have no business trying to have a baby right now because I can barely look after Ruth and Henry, I can't look after myself at all and life is on hold and no matter how hard I try I can't ignore the fact that this really is going to take a long time to undo and fix and strengthen. It's a long long road back to healthy, says Claus, and he is right.
This morning we had our first extended couples' therapy session since our big fight in the office late last week. Which mostly feeds off the individual sessions because we're trying to work on finding patience and acceptance in all this. Continuing to hold each other up, most importantly during the hard parts, when we need each other the most. Love seems to be the easiest part of this and we're going to lean heavily on it to help strengthen the rest-the other facets of a relationship people often forget or ignore. The foundation, goddamit.
So to summarize. Jacob is not going to push me and be impatient, if he can help it. I'm going to take my pills when I'm supposed to and give up the temporary sporadic euphoria for the permanent contentment, because I want it more. We're not going to fail each other. And no more bourbon-soaked sad love song fests for Bridget. I might really miss those.
Tell me you're not alright
And you needed to come home
To tell me you're not okay
And you needed me all along
Since you've been gone
I need to hear from you
Since you've been gone
