Things are starting to fall in place.

I had always tried to avoid my past, knowing very well that it would bring back memories I did not want to deal with. And when it all came back at once, things got very confused and I became very upset.

It is like I had put a pressure cooker on the stove for 35 years, and after all this time the lid had unexpectedly decided to pop out, thus letting all the steam out and splashing the walls of my skull with all the filthy slime my childhood was made of.

It hurt and burnt, very badly.

We are now almost four months after the initial onset, four weeks into medication and therapy, and I have started to clean up the mess.

I have had pretty bad anxiety attacks, panic attacks, huge waves of sadness, and I cried a lot of tears.

I also have reflected a lot, written down my thoughts (you should be glad I only posted an abridged version), and sorted out a lot of my issues (I think).

The combination of medicine, therapy and writing seems to work well:

  • The medicine helps control my emotional response: by that I mean that when I have an anxiety attack, I still have enough self-control to think and analyse what is going through my head. It does not suppress my emotions, but it prevents me from completely melting down.
  • Therapy guides my reflection and helps me find what my real issues are: I know that I despise all about my childhood, but things were too confusing in my mind to find ways to accept and make peace with it. In identifying key issues, I can now focus on them and understand what is causing me so much grief.
  • Writing is an excellent way to organise my ideas and a good analysis tool. It also allows me to weed out unimportant details and highlight the actual problems I have to face. It is also very good in the sense that going public has been a huge relief and has lifted a good part of the weight off my shoulders: I can already feel the positive effects it has had on me.

Friends and family support has been a decisive factor. I can really say that if I didn’t have Noey by my side, if I didn’t have Manola and Maxime — my wonderful children — I would probably not be here to write about it. Not to be over dramatic, but it is the simple truth: I had reached a point where I had no motivation to sustain my own life anymore.

When asked by the doctor if I had any plan to commit suicide, when the therapist asked me the same question, I gave a negative answer. The truth is that if I did not have a family I would have let myself die of starvation, thirst and self-neglect.

When I told this to Noey she said that it was basically the same thing as committing suicide, which I did not see as such at the time. But looking back now, she was right.

Anyway, I am past this stage now, and I intend to live, not only because I want to be a father to my children, a companion to my wife, but also for myself, because after all life is precious, and I have everything I need to be happy. I just have to re-learn to appreciate happiness and enjoy life (it’s hard, I am not there yet).

I am also working very hard on letting go of the guilt and shame I have always lived with. I know I shouldn’t feel them: my reason tells me that none of what happened was my fault, but all is not always rational and these feelings are present whether I want it or not. I am slowly getting rid of them, but it is not as easy as I wish it was.

I believe I am on my way to a successful recovery, and my therapist seems to agree. I am really feeling better. I am not back to my old self yet, and I probably never will.

When all this is over I will be different. For the better.

It is going to take more effort, some more time, but the future bodes well.