I have a favorite book series that I love listening to on Audible. It is the Frida Klein series by Nicci French. The main character is a Psychoanalyst and she seems to get her life intermingled with London's murderers and the local Police. It is a wonderful well planned and executed book series. Most of the books are 10 or 11 hours long so I can spend a lot of drive time or dreadmill time being entertained. Through all of the books there have been grisly situations that are very real and very scary. Somehow, I make it through unscathed.
Until, yesterday with the new book Thursday's Child. Ugh, children are the worst horror stories to get involved with, but this on in the few chapters I could make it through is about the rapes of young teen girls. And the main character divulging her own rape. The young girl tells Frida that she woke up and her bedroom was eerily silent and still. She knew something was wrong, but couldn't move and couldn't breathe. She wanted to turn on the light to make the dark go away, but she lay there paralyzed. Then she was attacked. She lays there waiting to be killed.
I had to stop listening and buy the next book in the series to shake this one out of my damn head as this is one of my biggest fears, that far too often gets caught in that bipolar trains of thoughts that loops in my brain far too many nights. For me its the laying there with my eyes closed waiting and praying I am wrong and that no one is in my room. I don't want to open my eyes and see a face within inches of my own. Like a child, I want to pretend that if I keep my eyes closed then nothing bad is going to happen. At which point my heart is pounding so hard that I begin to believe that it is someone else's heartbeat beating right above my face. I try and figure out if I can feel any breathe or if I just hear it. And I wait. I damn near give myself a heart attack in the waiting and not knowing. Then, when I just can't stand one more minute of waiting to be raped and killed, I open my eyes. Wide open, really fast.
So far, there has never been anyone there. Just me, my heart beat bursting out of my chest, sweat, panic, anxiety, and a sick sense of feeling I deserve a fate like this. I don't know why I feel this could be a reality of my life. I don't know why I wait in the dark to die, but I do. This is a part of my sickness. This is one of bipolar thinking loops that turns into a panic attack, that once started cannot be stopped by self-talk, deep belly breathing, counting 5 things, or anxiety meds.
The only thing that stops this loop, is to get up and turn on the light. I have to be so very brave. Braver like the last time. I have to open my eyes, push back the covers and reach up for the light. Then crawl back into bed, stuff pillows behind my back and stay awake until I can't stop sleep from taking over. Some nights, there is no sleep. Not until the sun has risen. When my partner is home, I don't turn on the light, I just scoot back until I am hovering next to him and that comfort is my touch stone to safety. I will lay there, still frantically caught in the fear, but the touch is enough to give me a reality check that I am going to be alright.
In the newest book, the main characters lover has been killed. His throat slit. His body washed up in The Thames River. Hopefully his murder will help me forget the previous book.
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Mouthy Melissa is living with bipolar 2, depression, anxiety and cptsd. Mental Illness affects my life every day in so many ways.