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Touchgiving, touchleaving
Sep. 3rd, 2006 05:05 pmDanny and I picked up Adam at BWI around eleven last night, and once home, I went straight up to bed. Adam followed shortly after. Sometime in the middle of the night... oh, I don't remember when it started. It was a complex partial seizure, a bad one. I know I felt hot, I woke up and I was very hot, I couldn't get cool even with the fan. My skin felt foreign, my skin felt alien. I didn't want it on me, I didn't want anything touching me, not bed or blankets, nothing. If I could have levtiated and slept on air I would have. I pulled off all my clothes except panties and I couldn't sleep. Everything was far and away and a dream. My skin was buzzing, my skin was humming. Adam wanted me, he had been away for two weeks after all, he wanted to make love to his wife. He pulled me close and tried to touch me. He didn't know what was happening to me. I couldn't say I was having a seizure, my brain was shutting off. I don't remember much, but I know I kept shuddering away, I kept pulling away with spasms. I didn't want touch, it didn't feel... it didn't...
He was hurt, emotionally. He pulled away. I couldn't tell him what was wrong, I couldn't find the right words. I can't remember now. I know I curled up at the edge of the bed and tried to make the world stop touching my skin. He wasn't in the bedroom anymore. I was having an asthma attack, I couldn't breathe. The inhaler was in the living room. In the waking demon dream I staggered downstairs and found the inhaler and used it, and sat on the couch. Something moved, a hand touched my back. I jumped away. Adam was lying under a blanket on the couch. He thought I didn't want him in the bed with me. I told him he was wrong. He told me to go upstairs back to bed. I said no. I refused to leave him and the couch. I lay down with him. Eventually he held me. He told me to go upstairs and he'd come with. I remember shaking, every muscle jerking violently, spasm spasm. I don't remember going upstairs, but around five I was in bed trying to breathe. I closed my eyes. My brain started cooling down. I opened my eyes. I was cold. I was freezing. I pulled the blankets up over me, and then I put my pajamas and socks back on. Adam still assumed I didn't want him touching me. We slept on opposite sides of the bed and woke up at noon, with Tuesday loving us. I got up and took a shower, wondering if I was going to fall down. I got dressed afterwards and went downstairs to lie on the couch and distract myself with television. I didn't want to listen to my brain. Adam came downstairs and we hugged and kissed.
I told him we were going to have to have a talk. He needs to know. He needs to understand and recognize the signs and the symptoms. Sometimes I cannot say the words. Sometimes I don't know what I'm saying at all.
It doesn't mean I don't want someone with me. I just can't be touched sometimes.
Sometimes I don't even want skin.
Memory now is like a puzzle with missing pieces. You forget, you don't understand... and then hours later it comes back slowly, but with parts missing, and you have to figure things out. And then you have to explain yourself. Sometimes there is humiliation and fear and deep misunderstading.
It is a scary, scary thing. You are foreign in your own body. The world is something else. And what if no one is there to comfort you the way you need? What if you cannot tell them what you need?
I think Adam and I need to discuss some things.
He was hurt, emotionally. He pulled away. I couldn't tell him what was wrong, I couldn't find the right words. I can't remember now. I know I curled up at the edge of the bed and tried to make the world stop touching my skin. He wasn't in the bedroom anymore. I was having an asthma attack, I couldn't breathe. The inhaler was in the living room. In the waking demon dream I staggered downstairs and found the inhaler and used it, and sat on the couch. Something moved, a hand touched my back. I jumped away. Adam was lying under a blanket on the couch. He thought I didn't want him in the bed with me. I told him he was wrong. He told me to go upstairs back to bed. I said no. I refused to leave him and the couch. I lay down with him. Eventually he held me. He told me to go upstairs and he'd come with. I remember shaking, every muscle jerking violently, spasm spasm. I don't remember going upstairs, but around five I was in bed trying to breathe. I closed my eyes. My brain started cooling down. I opened my eyes. I was cold. I was freezing. I pulled the blankets up over me, and then I put my pajamas and socks back on. Adam still assumed I didn't want him touching me. We slept on opposite sides of the bed and woke up at noon, with Tuesday loving us. I got up and took a shower, wondering if I was going to fall down. I got dressed afterwards and went downstairs to lie on the couch and distract myself with television. I didn't want to listen to my brain. Adam came downstairs and we hugged and kissed.
I told him we were going to have to have a talk. He needs to know. He needs to understand and recognize the signs and the symptoms. Sometimes I cannot say the words. Sometimes I don't know what I'm saying at all.
It doesn't mean I don't want someone with me. I just can't be touched sometimes.
Sometimes I don't even want skin.
Memory now is like a puzzle with missing pieces. You forget, you don't understand... and then hours later it comes back slowly, but with parts missing, and you have to figure things out. And then you have to explain yourself. Sometimes there is humiliation and fear and deep misunderstading.
It is a scary, scary thing. You are foreign in your own body. The world is something else. And what if no one is there to comfort you the way you need? What if you cannot tell them what you need?
I think Adam and I need to discuss some things.
