From flashback to flashback?

I don't know if I'm still in my flashback from the beginning of the week, or if I'm going from flashback to flashback. I can't seem to recover, or not for more than a few hours. Yesterday I had my fatal moments, and I was struggling most of the day not to fall completely. I managed in the afternoon, and, in fact, felt quite well during and after the assembly of my beloved queer group at my home.

But, this morning, although I felt a little better at first, I woke up with no energy at all. I made the decision not to even try to work, and slipped even further down. I wrote a simple message - I CAN'T TAKE IT ANYMORE - to some friends, because I felt really awful. I don't think I have ever felt as suicidal in my life as I did this morning. I'm too afraid of physical pain to really try, but I was scared to feel that way.

Some time later I managed - around 11:00h or later - to get up, take a shower and go for breakfast in one of my favourite bars. But I had to cry in the bar too, and luckily I got a big hug while I was crying. I wrote something in my diary, and managed to relax a bit, but not for long. I left the bar for a walk, and on the walk I had to cry again several times. Fortunately I don't care anymore. I don't feel any shame crying in any public space. I cry whenever and wherever I feel like it. But I felt terrible. It was not a liberating cry, but this cry full of fear.

Flashbacks? I don't know anymore. I always think of sexual abuse in my childhood, I always think of a child looking at an adult's erect cock (of which I only "see" the torso), or, sometimes, sucking a cock. Little else. And I feel a lot of fear. Mostly fear. I have a knot in my stomach.

Then I manage to calm down for a while, I stop crying. Maybe I manage to do something for a while, something that doesn't need too much concentration, and then again I break down and start crying this cry of fear.

In a way it's flashbacks. I don't know if there really was sexual abuse, but these flashbacks take me back to my childhood, to a strong fear from my childhood.

The US NGO website says: "Researchers have found that at least 1 in 6 men have experienced sexual abuse or assault, whether in childhood or as adults. And this is probably a low estimate, since it doesn’t include noncontact experiences, which can also have lasting negative effects." The statistical probability is not that low....

And I think of my interest in gay novels that deal with the subject of boyhood sexual abuse: Scott Heim's Mysterious Skin, Sulayman X's Bilal's Bread, Hanya Yanagihara's A Little Life, to name just a few. I think of my interest in any news on the subject, in any other material....

I think also of my problems of trusting the other person during sex (in my few sexual relationships), of my inability to let go.

In a way, writing this relaxes me. It helps me to make this possibility of sexual abuse public. I am not ashamed to speak publicly about the possibility of sexual abuse in my childhood. And this is positive. But, it doesn't take away the pain, it doesn't take away the fear of my emotional flashbacks (what I have are some thoughts that come to me, but not memories), and it doesn't take away this uncertainty.

I feel like this week I'm basically going from flashback to flashback. And my whole body hurts. And I'm sick of it. I feel absolutely at my limit. I can't take it anymore. When am I going to hit rock bottom? I can't even imagine falling any further, let alone imagine holding on if I would... I can't take it anymore.