So forty-six days ago I decided to quit drinking. The first twenty-one days were easy and fun. I decided to challenge myself by hanging out with friends in bars, going to parties with tons of booze present, and participating in Sunday brunches just to show myself the willpower that I have. Everything was A-okay until about two weeks ago. I was in the waiting area in my therapist office, reading Stephen King’s Salem’s Lot and lo and behold it hit me. The vivid images from my childhood of being sexually abused. I was there, reliving every feeling, every touch, every disgusting thing that I had gone through as if it were happening at that moment. I freaked out. As my therapist came out to get me, I flew in her room and told her. For the first time ever I began to tell the gory details of my hell. I thought that I would be okay after but instead I got worse. Usually when I get these images I self-medicate with pills and booze. I go through my pseudo-suicidal phase of drinking and pill popping and once the dark cloud is over I move on. This time is different. Since I am not able to drink, I have to face this shit head on and it’s making me insane. Last week I went to see my therapist and told her that the images and feelings are still there and I can’t escape them. I told her that once Lent is over I am going to continue to drink or I will die. She asked me some questions and then diagnosed me with PTSD, post-traumatic stress disorder. This past week has been a living hell. The images of the abuse are right here and the best part is she told me that they will never go away. She then referred me to an EMDR specialist and that is expensive. I have met with the EMDR therapist twice now and I feel a true connection. I feel she has my best interest. She was amazed how I was able to not drink for forty-six days with all of this on my shoulders. I told her that I am going to drink. She told me to go to urgent care and seek a sedative. I am trying so hard to live day by day and minute by minute, dealing with these horrific flashbacks. They haunt me in my dreams and in my reality. I hate this and I don’t know how much I can take. I can’t stop crying and yesterday (Friday) at work one of the docs that I work with said that I was out of my mind to a fellow coworker. I can’t take this. I am not as strong that everyone thinks and it fucking kills me. I want to run so far and get the hell out of this town but I can’t. I am stuck. I am a victim of child sexual abuse and domestic violence. I don’t know how to deal with this but I am trying to figure it out. If anyone out there knows how this feels and has the answer I would love the support and advice.