Sundays

I struggle on Sundays.

Perhaps because it is the one day I don't have to be somewhere by 8am. Perhaps because I don't have to get dressed in my Arielle has it all together persona. Maybe that's why Sundays are more apt to discomfort. I'm more raw.

Sunday is the one morning I interact with my family.

Sunday is when I go to church and have to sit still, minimal fidgeting around. At school I can keep busy even though I must stay seated.

Don't get me wrong, I need the rest for the week ahead. I'm go go go for six days. It's nice for my body to not have to be in motion. But there is still a to do list. Shoulds float to the front of my mind.

Even being with Hobbes, I feel I must walk him. He's just happy to be near me, and for that I am thankful.

Perhaps Sundays are hard because there is not a constant doing. I am with myself. For hours. And this is uncomfortable. I'm switching therapy modes to trauma work with an emphasis on treating dissociation, derealization, and depersonalization.

I struggle to sit alone with only the world immediately around me.

I did grounding work. I showered, practiced yoga, played the ukulele. Perhaps that wore me out. I took a nap from 10am to 11am.

I've been so tired lately. When I have a spare moment I just want to close my eyes and sleep. It's probably the insomnia from the cptsd. Oh, brain. You're trying to hard to take care of me, yet you need caring for.

Sundays are hard. I feel lonely. I feel inferior. I feel not wanted. Not liked. It's okay. They are just thoughts. They too wish to keep me safe. I am safe. I am loved. I belong. Even when I don't feel like it.

Perhaps having a day of just resting is okay. The world can wait, thankfully. I'm going to be okay.