Transistion from treatment to home; My failed attempt to reintegrate back into the bed in which I was raped

As I sit in my closet writing this I can’t help but consider the importance that a support system could play in the transition from treatment to home. I can’t really blame anyone for not supporting me the way I need when even I wasn’t prepared for how difficult this transition would be. This treatment was different from many others. This time I didn’t go just to gain back the weight I lost, but to learn how to nourish my body despite the hatred I have towards it after I was sexually assaulted this past October. In the beginning of my stay in a partial hospitalization I came home on weekends to do laundry and see my cat. I found that I spent a great deal of time in bed and not much time with friends. But after a couple of weeks I decided that in order to really focus on myself and recovery, staying in Syracuse was the best option. While there I began processing the trauma and delved into topics that I have for years been embarrassed to talk of out loud. The more I took back the control, the more control I lost in my subconscious. As I slept my body willed itself to process the rape, but failed miserably as for a week straight I literally relived the rape over and over after I went to bed. I discovered that I struggled with sleep paralysis and decided on my own to increase my anxiety medication. After that horrible week the nightmares went away, but I still found that I was spending an unusual amount of time in the closet of my bedroom. Thankfully towards the end of my 50 days in treatment I was able to conquer sleeping in my bed which had originally been tainted by the nightmares.

I got home last Friday and as soon as the sun went down my anxiety skyrocketed causing me to hyperventilate, pull at my hair and even hallucinate. I literally went crazy. Within moments I had rummaged through my shoe closet and pulled out just enough of them for me to create a space in which I could sleep. So many days I had spent wishing to go home and excitedly planning my future in recovery here on Wood St only to come home and be re-traumatized. Yes, before I went away I slept in the same bed in which I was raped, but some- how I managed to get through it. I think that at that time I was still in such shock that the option of a closet fort never crossed my mind. Doing a cleanse of my room, reorganizing, buying new sheets, rearranging things to make my space look completely different was not an idea that was nurtured. I was too focused on controlling my intake and my weight to realize it was my very own personal space that was creating such mental and emotional chaos.

In the best of both worlds I would not have come back to my original place of residence crying to go home to a place that was only meant to be temporary. I would have already had friends rearrange my room and cleanse it for me. I would have had inspirational quotes and reminders that I am worth the fight and that it wasn’t my fault hanging on my walls. People would have considered that perhaps my coming home could be a traumatic experience, yet I was dropped off on the sidewalk with all my bags, walked into a disgusting house and found my way to the bedroom that was once upon a time the only place I felt safe in. It now is just a space that holds both a tainted bed and within it holding onto tragic memories while this same bedroom has a perfect size closet for me to fit, feel safe, and sleep, you know because I’m a fucking hobbit. Anyway, I have made it comfortable. Decorated with white Christmas lights around the rectangular rim of my closet ceiling. A battery- operated candle on the shelf above stays lit all night long. There are two blankets that separate my hip bones from the hard wood floor and the same Teddy bear I brought with me to Syracuse. Like always I will fall asleep here for the first 3 hours and then drowsily walk to my bed and snuggle with my cat. By the time 2 am rolls around I will be so far gone in sleep mode I won’t have nearly the same amount of anxiety that I would if I just started off in my bed from the gecko.