sweetest girl – Wyclef ft. Niia

really like this… and she looks familiar, but I can’t place her…

recovery network: Toronto

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feeling defeated

I know I should be talking about this with the appropriate people, but it is difficult, so I will write it here.

It’s not fair.  It’s not fair that you invite him here and then get mad when I choose to leave for the duration of his visit (I shut him out of my life for a reason, and I really have no desire to let him back in).  You can choose to have him come around, but don’t try to guilt me into sticking around for it.  I don’t want to spend time with him.  That kind of interaction is just not good for me.  I know this last time wasn’t so bad, but I refuse to push my luck.  I have enough trouble with all the crap in my head as it is, I don’t need help going over the edge.

I chose to stay away most of the time last visit because I wanted to limit the chances of me being really triggered.  I want to be completely gone this next time, because I don’t want to deal with all that he brings up in me (and quite frankly, I don’t want to deal with your anger either.  You refuse to tell me what’s bothering you.  You may hint at it, but you leave me pretty much guessing. I don’t want to have to keep guessing).  It’s better for all concerned if we just took off while he was slated to visit.

I get it, we are annoying and frustrating, and you want us gone asap.  We are working on that.  But in the mean time, I refuse to forego everything that helps keep me sane.  I will choose to spend my money how I see fit.  I am saving what I can, and we will be out of your hair asap because that seems like what you desperately want.  Hell, if I could afford to move us out today, I would because you are clearly bothered by our presence.  But that’s just not realistic unless we suddenly win the lottery.

We try to help out around the house, but nothing is ever good enough for you.  It’s always too messy, or too noisy, or too chaotic, or too quiet.  Sorry.  I don’t know how to win with that.  Like I said, we are working on getting out of here so that you can go back to your quiet and solitary existence.  My bad for assuming I could move back to my own house and be welcome.

I know the dogs are bothersome.  I try to work on it, but I can’t do that alone.  I had asked for help with it, but it seems to be too much to ask.  Coming here has thrown everyone off.  It will take extra work to get them settled again (it’s also really hard to do anything with them outside of the house down here.  The state and municipalities make it impossible to go anywhere with them).

I’m also sorry that trying to include you in what we do outside of the house makes you so uncomfortable.  I’m sorry us leaving the house bothers you (but then again, staying home seems to do the same thing).  I know I can’t handle being cooped up all the time, and I’m pretty sure it drives L nuts also.  If we could take the dogs, we would, but again, too hot and too restrictive around here,

I feel like everything we do is wrong.  I feel like everything we do is too little.  If we don’t to the dishes, that’s a problem.  If we do the dishes but don’t do them correctly, that’s a problem.  If we clean up, we never do it to your standards.  If we don’t, you just make passive-aggressive comments about the mess, but don’t attempt to help take care of it.  I feel like we can’t win… and I feel like we can’t ever talk about it because, at this point, you are too angry and we are too defensive.

_________________________________________

I don’t want to do this anymore.  I don’t want to keep running from things and trying to dodge bullets flying at me from the dark…  I want to fix my shit and move on with my life.  I miss my “friends” and my safe spaces.  I miss being away from all this chaos and triggers.  I miss having some idea of where to turn for support…  I hate feeling so lost and hopeless and broken.  I want to figure shit out, get off disability, and get back to working again… I want my freedom back…

[insert title here later]

Last night was another night of poor sleep.  Then I had my session with De bright and early.  I want to say “we” talked, but she did most of the talking.  She seemed very concerned with me getting into a routine that will help me “wind down” in hopes of avoiding the anxiety that seems to come every night,  I think I would have rather tried exploring where the anxiety comes from… She just said she pictured it as worries from the day, and worries about things I couldn’t do anything about at the moment.  (she didn’t bother to ask if I thought she was correct).  She wants me to schedule in “worry time” earlier in the day so that I can “get it out of the way” and hopefully not deal with it at night.  The thing is, I don’t think the worry is much about that stuff… I wish I knew what is actually was about, but I’m not feeling connected to the idea that it’s stuff I can identify right now (boredom, finances, etc). I think it has more to do with something else (it feels deeper than that stuff), but I can’t tell you exactly what, because I just don’t know.  I also told her I felt like I was running from something “brewing”, but we didn’t really get to explore that either…  I know I have been trying to help my wife express her concerns about the therapy process to her own therapist, but now I have to figure out how to do that with mine.  I would really appreciate being able to talk more.  I don’t necessarily need to immediately solve all these problems, but I want to explore them and figure out where they are coming from.  If I wanted suggestions on solving them, I could ask my mom…

Again this week I am left with a bunch of stuff I needed to talk about, but didn’t get to.  I feel like I say one sentence, and De talks about it for 20 minutes without giving me a chance to interrupt or give my thoughts on it.  She’s very behaviorally slanted, and it’s kinda making me nuts.  I just need to be able to address that with her… and the talking… I think the only person I know who talks more than her is my dad… not a good association there, lol!  I’m not getting what I need from therapy, and I need to be able to say as much.  I don’t know how though.  I don’t know how to tell people what I need because I am afraid they will be mad at me for disliking what the status quot is.  I miss D, because at least he would let me talk. And we figured out a way to communicate finally.  I don’t know how to do it with De.  I’m not sure I have the courage to ask her to speak less and listen more…. Even writing things down to bring with me is difficult.  I feel like I would get to the first point and then be stuck listening to her as she tries to solve it.  It’s not that I don’t want to solve the problem, and it’s not that she doesn’t offer up helpful info, it’s just that I sometimes need to get there a little more myself first.

The “worry time” allotted to today seems to not have made an impact.  My anxiety and moodiness are back again.  I even came willingly into the bedroom to escape the chaos in the living room, but it’s creeping up on me again.  Still running from something, and the pace seems to have picked-up a bit.  It’s nowhere near the break-neck speed I launch into before an immanent crash, but I know I’m hurrying out of something’s way (or trying to).  De had told me to tell her before I get to that immanent crash point.  Maybe I should have interjected that those come hard and fast after a point.  I think she is thinking it will happen over weeks…  I’m trying hard not to crash, but I have a feeling once it starts, it will literally happen overnight, It has in the past.  Ok, so that would have been a good thing to tell her… my bad.  Maybe next week we can bring that up.

I wish you could meet her

Take the third line of the last song you heard, make it your post title, and write for a maximum of 15 minutes. (POD Truly Amazing). (idea taken from hastywords)

I wish you could meet her, that little one inside. She’s shy though… She hides behind walls and blades and in the fog. It used to be a scary place, but now the fog is comforting. It’s all she’s known for so long.

I came to bed tonight at the same time my wife did. The anxiety did not come, but anger rose in me as I got closer to the room. I’m suddenly cranky and want to cry for no reason (though I did accidentally break the marble candle holder I had made a few weeks ago. I very nearly cried when that happened. I will have to put it together again with different glue). Anyway, I’m all over the place and I don’t really have a reason for it.

Something in me wants to run away crying. I’m confused by it. There is definitely a dread connected to going to bed at night. I just have no idea why it’s there. I don’t have nightmares I remember anymore. Some days I wake up with an anxious feeling, but I don’t remember much by way of dream content, so I can’t blame it on that. There has to be something that brings on this anxiety, but what?? I see De tomorrow morning, maybe we can talk about it more (likely she will do most of the talking).  J asked today if there was any abuse or anything connected to going to bed. There’s nothing I remember. I know the guy at the parties was at bedtime, but I don’t remember any of that, and it was a whole different house, different country even. I can’t picture that being the reason for this feeling.

I think I may try to sleep to music tonight. I feel like crying, but I don’t want to, and music helps keep that at bay. J asked L about something in session today, and L said that when she fears I am slipping away, she gets more anxious and demanding and clingy. The one concept that sticks out in my head is L saying how frustrating it is when I tell her something’s brewing inside, but I don’t tell her what it is. I’m not sure if I said it out loud or not, but I don’t always know what it is myself, so I can’t possibly tell her… I feel like that will be another issue tonight, as I’m writing that something is bothering me, but not saying what it is (because I don’t know what it is). How can you possibly tell someone something you have no grasp on yourself. This is why it’s so hard for me to open up… I can say something is wrong, but I have no answers to the questions of “what” and “why”.

Again there is so much ground to cover with De, and we will likely only get to one tiny part. The rest will be tabled for the next session (by which time it will be over-shadowed by something else). I feel I need more sessions or more support to be able to address everything that comes up and that is important. I always have a week of needing to talk about so much, but never get to it.

Randomly during couple’s therapy today, I suddenly had the urge to cut my arms. I haven’t done that in years, so the urge is baffling. I know I had made note of its occurrence, but I can’t remember what we were talking about that might have brought the urge on. Again, more questions and concern with no answers in sight. Maybe it was the name thing; that is what was triggering with De last week… but maybe it was the talk of the anxiety before bed. I’m not sure. It’s probably all related, but I can’t figure out why just yet.

I hate the sketchy nature of all these symptoms. I hate that I only ever run into more questions when searching for the answers. When do I actually hit some answers and solutions? I’m so tired of all this.

When I first started writing this, I had simultaneous ideas in my head. One was to write a story on wishing you could meet the little girl lost inside (I thought of saying “me” or “the girl I used to be” but both of those also brought up a weird inner cringe). Another was a wish to introduce SJ.  Another was to introduce the person I had been (or thought I was)… all of that fizzled though. I don’t know who to introduce with this, so I will just call it a day and end here. The person I once was seems to have never been, so you can’t be introduced….

what is this?

I’m in an uncharted place emotionally. I am somewhat aware of things going on in the background, but they are not as hectic and frantic as they normally are. I am not quite sure what to do with this. I feel like I’m trying to out-run something (some break-down), but I don’t feel like I’m running too hard, more like that quick pace you get right between noticing that someone is following you in the shadows and the point you head out in a full-on sprint. It’s the quickening steps in the middle of the cones of light cast down by the street lamps as you walk the sidewalk at night. But it’s not yet the run or even jog. I’m noticing the presence in the shadows, but I’m not quite worried about it yet. I still think it’s a cat or something equally harmless. It’s not stopping me from my hell-bent distraction though. I need to keep moving. I need to keep my head and my hands busy… And I’m again anxious about sleeping (monsters seem to fill the shadows in sleep). Something about going to bed at night causes near-panic. I can nap during the day and finally sleep well just before sunrise, but the thought of going to bed and actually sleeping before 1 or 2 a.m. raise my heartbeat and hastens my breathing (and not at all in a good way). There’s something that worries me about sleeping at night. I’m not quite sure what. I could take my anxiety meds, but that would require going to the bedroom. It’s not even like the room or the bed is scary. My wife is asleep and all the dogs are in there. I’m out here alone with the cats and the uneaten crickets in the lizard tanks (anyone that says they can sleep better with the sounds of chirping crickets never had to breed/house them… It’s only about 40 crickets total right now (better than the thousands I used to house to feed my chameleons daily) and the noise is deafening. I wish the lizards would get on with the eating process).
Anyway, I like the dark and the night-time, but something is triggering an anxious response lately. I think it’s the monsters that come out to play in my dreams. Somehow they are safer to dream about in the daylight or near-daylight, thought I don’t remember the dreams.
This morning I dreamt about an old therapist. I was to meet with her after she spoke to my mom (much like therapy with kids), and she had her own kids in her office waiting for her to be done with her work day. My mom stepped out of the office and I began talking to L. After a few sentences, I realized that her daughter and her daughter’s bf were still in the office. I asked her to make them leave because she knew I had enough trouble talking about “this stuff” without having others around to hear it. She refused to ask them to go out of the room, so I stood up and angrily walked out. I sat with my mom in the waiting room while L ended up calling 911 (or her supervisor, the call was weird). She was upset that I walked out and was going to have me committed even though I had just told her that I was not cutting recently. She begged her supervisor and “everyone” to call her back. I waited in the waiting room hoping she would come out and I could convince her I wasn’t a danger to myself. Then I woke up, I wish the dream had finished, but something jolted me out of it. I know it’s a totally ridiculous scenario and would never happen. I’m wondering however, why my brain brought her back to my awareness, and why I was a kid-adult in the dream… and why was she committing me for no real reason?
I want to know how it ended. At the same time, I am not eager to return to the anxiety of the dream situation. Even this one dream doesn’t explain all the anxiety I have been having going to sleep for the last few months… This was just last night. What happened all the other nights? I can’t really remember any other dreams. I’m just filled with dread about going to sleep. I can be incredibly exhausted and still have a difficult time convincing myself to get into bed. Then the anxiety keeps me up at night, and I don’t sleep until just about sunrise. It’s very frustrating.

I wish I could step out of my head. I want away from the anxiety. I want to avoid the dread that is seeping in. I don’t know where I want to go or what I want to happen, but I just want to blink out of existence for a while until this all goes away. I feel like I have lived lifetimes in the past week. We have not done much out of the ordinary though. It just all feels like last week was forever ago… weird. Again back to the feeling of quick-stepping away from whatever is stalking me. Does it all settle out finally? I’m so tired of this back and forth and spirals and scribbles. I could use a straight emotional line in a positive or positive/neutral direction.

things to occupy the hands and mind (updated a week or so later)

One of my wife’s bosses at Michael’s turned us on to Perler beads (the ones you put onto a small peg-board and then melt together with the iron to keep the design). Little did she know she would unleash monsters.

Not only did it have 3 of us sorting colors for hours (the OCD sides to us all were SO satisfied when the colors were finally separated into their own little containers), but the challenge of doing an original piece based off a photo or object has me working for the whole day. I managed to get totally enthralled by the process of figuring out the proper bead/color placement to create what I was looking for.

I started out with 2 Hello Kitty designs yesterday and this morning based on little candy tins my wife has (she has a slight obsession with tins and containers). They came out pretty good after I got the correct head:body ratio. (I changed the vampire’s whisker color to purple like her clothes… the yellow just wasn’t working for me).  I am not really much of a Hello Kitty fan, but I think these came out cute (and they are Halloween-themed, which just so happens to be my favorite holiday)

Then tonight I started my first realistic Perler “painting” using this photo from the internet as reference. I have a ton of tweaking to do, and this is just the start of it all, but I think I like where it’s going. My only problem is that I can’t decide which version I prefer: the one on the left or the one on the right. I ran out of the colors for the one on the left, so I tried the one on the right. I’m not sure I like it as much as the first one because the color contrast is much higher between the shading, highlighting, and base gecko color (though I really like that blue for him). I also have to set the eyes a tad father apart, and adjust the left side of the top “V” on his head. This one will be a HUGE project if I decide to go all-out and do the whole image (more than the crop used to show the reference gecko). So far the gecko’s head is a good 4.5″ (it should be noted here that the geckos themselves are only about 3″ full-grown). The black piece below him is the start of the patterning under his jaw (not easily visible in the reference pic included in the collage). Hopefully I will keep up with it, though I will have to wait until the extra beads come in. It has definitely kept my hands and my brain occupied, which keeps me out of trouble 😉

 

So, I made some tweaks and added more beads.  I guess it’s not so bad with all the dark blue…

i don’t know.

i don’t know.
i don’t know.
I don’t know.
…

Huffington Post Hears Voices – All Weekend

I like this perspective and def. want to look into it more… A few of my former residents came to mind when reading this…

recovery network: Toronto

It’s Hearimg Voices Weekend at Huffington Post. Well, not quite but close enough. The whole weekend Huffpuff is featuring Eleanor Longden’s mind opening TED talk. There’s an op-ed by Eleanor – repeated below – and pieces by regular  Huffbloggers. 
go read,
go listen.
go.

About ten percent of us hear voices. Any of us can at some point – especially around or after difficult life experiences. [eg about half of those in a long -term marriage will hear, see or otherwise sense the presence of their deceased spouse].

Some cultures regard it as a gift, or even normal – in some it’s those who don’t talk about the voices they hear who are regarded as troubled or strange. 

Literature is filled with references to the voice in my head, Ray Bradbury said that “all writers hear voices – or they couldn’t do dialogue” and there are hundreds of songs.

So, why…

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I’m still incredibly tired of all this

I’m so tired.  I don’t want to do this anymore.  I don’t want to fight the urges or the depression.  I don’t want to put effort into living anymore.  The only thing is, the depression is taking a backseat to the rage.  I would take the depression over the anger and rage any day.  At least I know what to do with the depression.  I don’t know what to do with the anger…

I want to sleep, but I can’t.  Even when I go to bed at a reasonable hour, I lay awake all night.  If I take any meds, I am either rage-full the next day, or I can’t wake up at all for the next 16 hours or so.  I hate that there is nothing in the middle.  There is no simple good night’s sleep.  I don’t want to do this anymore.

I actually feel better about my dad than my mom at the moment.  That’s scary and not how it is supposed to be.  Apparently my mom is angry about a whole lot of stuff, but she’s not telling us any of it except in cryptic outbursts once a month.  Them everything becomes uncomfortable and tense.  At least G apologized.  Heaven forbid mom explain herself or admit any over-reaction on her part.  She doesn’t feel like she should explain herself, and we should be able to read her mind about what is wrong.  Well guess what?  I’m not into mind reading.  I’m tired of bending over backwards to include her when it just pisses her off.  If she wants to simply be people that happen to share a house, fine.  We can do that.  I’m done making an effort to reach out to her when it’s always met with a sour face and annoyance.  She’s never happy with anything.  Nothing is ever good enough for her.  I’m done trying.  If she wants to hang out or do something or be more involved while we are here, she needs to make the effort….

I felt totally brushed off by De on Friday, which was in complete contrast to Wednesday’s appointment.  I know it was just a check-in because my dad is down, but it was cut 20 minutes short.  What was the point of me wasting the gas to go down there then?  We could have done that over the phone.  And I don’t see her again until Friday.  Whatever.

I’m so tired and so raw…

Awake

I woke to the sounds of a storm around 12:30 a.m. and have not been able to fall back asleep.  I did go out to round up the outdoor kitties (they hate storms and getting wet), but now I’m wide awake still and it’s 2 a.m. my wife gets up in 2 hours and I take her to work. I normally would just let her take the car, but I want an escape option with G here visiting. I normally can’t fall asleep again after that until about another 2 hours later.  Then 3 hours after that I have to pick her up again. 
We have a full day ahead of us once she gets home.  (We planned it that way to minimize time with G to avoid conflict).  I’m glad we will be it,  but the thought of yet another long day on very little sleep is frustrating. 

I even saw the med guy yesterday, but he was not really any help.  He lowered my dose of sleep meds and of the anxiety meds.  I had hoped to change the anxiety med to something that did not make me so cranky, but we could not agree on an alternative.  I would prefer someone less flakey to prescribe them, but I will take what I can get for right now.  I still have no insurance or benefits of any kind, and no hope of getting any for at least a month. 

I called the state to find out what I need to do to apply for Medicaid, but she did not tell me It would be so complicated (they want me to do it online, but they have merged my mom’s case with my wife and I’s. The way to apply suddenly got way more confusing. It gets filled under my mom’s name, but with my info…) I have to call them again later today to get clarification on the proper way to do it. I wish they had done their job the first time and not just closed the application. Ugh.

De and I kinda touched upon the need for some higher level of care (php or iop), but I still don’t have benefits, so it’s a moot point at the moment. Also, I think I’m functioning ok right this second.  It may change in 2 weeks, but right now I’m ok. I do wish we could have more sessions regularly, but I’m not going to push it at the moment.  I don’t want to have to find another therapist all over again, and I’m not sure of her willingness/availability/ability to do more than one session a week outside of special circumstances…

My head won’t stop running.  I know I need sleep, but my brain has other ideas (penguins don’t have knees right? What is the air speed velocity of an un-ladened swallow – African and European? Did i just spell swollow correctly if writing about the bird? Why do we call millipedes that when they only have a few hundred pairs of legs? Will the dog be able to get comfy and sleep on the floor if i kick her out of my spot? Or will she whine and complain? Can I find a massage place that will take me today to try to get the kinks out of my neck and back? Does any of this really matter at 2:15 a.m.?)… ugh!

Someone hit me over the head with something so I pass out already, please?!

I think I like her…

So, for all my fretting and anxiety over asking for more help from this t, she heard my reaction to my dad’s impending visit and offered an additional session Friday to help deal with the stress (I didn’t even have to ask?!). She also tabled what she had wanted to talk about And we spent the session talking about him and brainstorming ways to stay sane while he is here. I think I love her in a totally platonic omg-you’re-so-awesome-to-figure-that-out-about-me-so-soon kinda way. I think we will work well together, tho sometimes she talks a lot (not in a bad way, But I feel like she’s so enthusiastic to pass on info that she forgets to let me talk for long). I did not get to talk about the stuff that last week stirred up, but maybe I can start into that a bit on Friday. 

Anyway, just needed to share the relief. She also talked to my old t and wanted my input on what he said and how rellavant it felt for right now. I think we have more talking to do in those points, but I’m glad she knows and is willing to talk about it all. 

Breathing a huge sigh of relief.

…

I just don;t enjoy things anymore. And everything makes me cranky. I’m bored and cranky and a total bitch. And my anxiety is rising over G coming to spend the rest of the week here starting tomorrow. I think that adds to my cranky bitchiness. I just don’t want to do anything… Except maybe some stuff that is frowned-upon…
Can we just miraculously get some money again and head out of the house for the next 3 days? I wish I had known sooner that he was coming, I would have not spent all our cash on other shit.
I hate myself. I hate that I react this way. I hate that I’m a bitch to the people I care about. I just hate everything about me. (And I hate that I want to shred my leg right now because I hate myself)… Does the cycle end?

Really? Why are we testing my mental health so soon?

I just found out my dad will be staying here for the second half of the week.  It’s sudden.  He has a court thing that he has to show up for… I pretty much cut him out of my life a few years ago after he was really abusive to my little family. I’m not looking forward to seeing him or him staying here.  He hates animals (of which we have a small army), he’s loud, and he is very critical of everyone and everything. I’m not at all looking forward to seeing him again. I wish we had more time, because we would be saving money to be gone while he is here. But it’s in 2 days.
Hoping the new t has some extra hours in her week… I will call tomorrow and ask. :gulp:

restless

I can’t find anything to occupy my head right now. I go to start an art project, but then change my mind. I want to go somewhere, but no idea where. I thought maybe the beach, but I have to be back here in 2 hours to pick my wife up from work. Maybe I will go walk around the mall? It’s boring as sin, but better than being restless here on the couch…

the weekend’s over

it actually went better than I had thought. I only wish we had more time to hang out. both L and I are in a lull now, you know that sad feeling when a reminder of your life in another state leaves, and you are faced again with the reality of life elsewhere… It’s not awful here but the lack of friends hurts… we are used to being more social than we are here. it’s hard to meet friends and do stuff when you have really limited resources. things are looking up, but getting to that point of them being good is a tough road.
the urge to drink or seek out other means of distracting from the uncomfortable emotions is strong. Maybe I’ll go try to re-design the tattoos I want… I know we need to save money, but I want to cover the scars on my right arm. I have so many ideas for elsewhere on my body, but I think my priority will be the full-sleeve on my right arm. Only I Will start it from my wrist and then do my upper arm (instead of going from the shoulder down). I want to hide the scars, not worry about having to hide my tattoos from others. I think I want to keep the idea of having a bunch of tropical flowers on that side. Maybe I will also add a few geckos or one of my snakes too. I did a rough sketch a few years ago, I may just add the critters onto that one and see what it gets me. I know it’s going to be costly (1/2 sleeves are expensive) but I can do it in stages. I really just want to scars covered. I’m tired of the looks. At least with the ink there, people will be focused on that rather than the evidence of “crazy” (especially if I return to work in mh).
Anyway, Might go nap a bit. I didn’t sleep well the lat few nights. I think I need to catch up.

The weekend wasn’t so bad after all

I know it’s not over yet, but N leaves in a few hours, so that part is over.  It was good to see her again.  There were some awkward moments, and we did nowhere near all of what we had talked about doing, but it was good.  It was nice to catch up with her, and I think L was happy to have someone understand her frustrations with my quirks. it was nice to have another friend around. We have so few down here. 
I also got my disability determination letter and I’m truly humbled and grateful for what they will be helping with.  I hope we can get our act in gear and save what we need to be able to accomplish what we need to.  Now I just have to figure out how the insurance part of it works…
I think for the first time in almost a year I finally can picture a future again.

something-or-other

I’m… something.  I don’t know what.  I want to write or reach out or something, but I have no idea why or how.  I have to pick company up from the airport in 2 hours, and I… I just don’t know.  This doesn’t feel right.  I don’t feel right.  But I don’t know why I’m saying that, or how exactly I should feel or be.  It’s a core thing, not a situational thing.  I don;t feel like I belong here.  Somewhere along the way something went wrong and I became trapped in the wrong story-line.  Getting disability doesn’t feel right.  being so lost doesn’t feel right (but then again, neither did having things “figured out”).  I wish I could explain what I mean, but I don’t think I have a decent grasp on it.

Is it wrong that I am frustrated that D did not call today?  His supervisor said he would likely call re: the disability coming through.  There’s been no call though.  He will be leaving the office in an hour, and there was nothing.  I’m disappointed.  Fuck him!  He’s playing into all the negative things I think about men… nm.  he just called… he redeemed himself.  I guess it was news to him too.  Well, that made me feel better.  It’s not being left as unfinished as it had felt.

Now I just have to psych myself up for the weekend.  ok. yup. there I go.  totally psyched… I’m sure it will be fine and dandy and I’ll be happy to have had the visitor, but for right now, it’s causing a lot of anxiety.

 

someone flicked a switch

I’m not sure what happened.  I was showering and suddenly something changed inside.  I became super-cranky and angry.  I don’t know what triggered it.  It’s like someone has access to a hidden switch, and they turn it on and off at random.

We were on our way to couple’s T when she called to cancel.  Not really a big deal over-all, but I was already cranky.  It just made things worse.  I don;t know why.  I wasn’t looking forward to talking much with her, or struggling to have something to talk about with “us”…

We came home and I just wanted to be alone.  I don’t want to interact with anyone or anything.  I want to cry but I don’t know why… I hate these shifts on the roller coaster.

The ex comes tomorrow.  I’m hoping it will be a good weekend, but I’m tired and cranky.  I don;t want to have to put up that fake smile all weekend.  And there’s a show I wanted to see, but it’s at the other end of the state, and I don’t have money or time to go, especially with her coming down.  Can we just skip over the weekend? And maybe over the next few weeks also? I’m not in a social mood, and I will have to be social all weekend.  >:|

surges

it comes and it goes.  I would love to be able to blame the depressioncomix.com for it returning, but it was there before I indulged myself in reading all of them (SO MANY ring true).  they just expressed what is so difficult to say or articulate.

I noticed that there are still things I really need to talk about with De, and that I likely will not get to talk to her any earlier than next session.  I’m afraid to tell her some of the stuff though, because it may mean I get booted and have to start all over again with my search and trusting yet another person with all this…  I wish I could say a lot of what goes on in my head, but I have no idea where to start, and it really would have to be a long conversation; there’s just too much there.

I hope the weekend is a good distraction.  I desperately need a distraction.

yeah… really liking this comic (not sure why the code remains…)

depression comix #60 (via depression comix)

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I’m not sure of what to make of today’s session… Because I got some amazing news earlier in the day (I was approved for disability!!!), I wasn’t able to address what I needed to with this new T.  I was disconnected from it, so I couldn’t talk about it fully.  My lack of emotional expression combined with my inability to figure out what it was that I had wanted to say allowed me to gloss over it and her to think I was finished talking about it.  I tried to address it some more at the end of the session, but we ran out of time.  Figures that’s when my courage to almost say it was getting stronger.  Maybe I will spend some time writing it out and give it to her at the beginning of the session next week… Which brings me to my next point of: oh shit, that’s a full week away.  I haven’t had once-a-week sessions in a while, not quite sure how that will go.  I still feel like I need extra support, but not sure how or where to get it.  I’m not sure she is open/willing to provide it, or even if it would be appropriate.

We did talk a fair amount about coping skills, both things to do and cognitive distortions that need recognizing.  She seems more education-oriented than process-oriented, and that too, is throwing me off.   I have the education piece, it’s putting it into effect that is difficult.  We kinda talked about that a bit also.  She said recognition is the first step.  I tried to tell her that I have had a hang of the first step for quite a while now, but it didn’t come out that concise.  This is suddenly reminding me too much of DBT in that it focuses on skills.  I have the f-ing skills, I just need to be able to tackle the stuff behind the need for those skills.  This is where time to process things that come up would be helpful.  I can handle the skill-building as long as I also have time to process the crap swirling around in my head.  Maybe I need to mention that too.

The panic definitely does set in after the session is over, and I am left with a full week of trying to cope in healthy ways.  An hour just doesn’t feel like enough time to go through all the skills she wants me to build and talk about the things I need to address.  I wish it wasn’t such an issue to see more than one therapist at a time.  We could do the behavioral stiff with De, and I could cover the processing piece with someone else… or it would be good if De had more time available.  I feel like the hour just starts to scratch the surface of what we need to talk about.

I had also hoped to talk a bit more about D’s abrupt termination, but she did not seem too concerned with it.  I know I didn’t really have much of an emotional reaction to it in front of her, but it still really bothered me.  We’ve got a lot of work to do to build a relationship.  I hate this part.

 

Pissed and hurt…

Went to see D today thinking we would start talking about termination and such as he was supposedly leaving at the end of the month.  Turns out this was our last season. He sprung it on me about halfway through.  Thanks.  That was helpful and totally considerate and shit.

I’m bad at goodbyes to begin with, forget about on the spot. In one breath he wanted to tell me that I was welcome back to the practice even though he will not be there, in the next he made me feel like he couldn’t get rid of me faster.

Fuck him… now my last memory of him is angry because he didn’t respect the process enough to be able to terminate properly. I’ve had too many people spring termination on me like that.  Not fair. I didn’t need that from him too! Sad and angry and sad.

I’m so bored

I’m anxious… and did not sleep well.  restlessness is back, as is my head’s desperate attempt to find something to do.  The usual internet hangouts are not interesting me.  I can’t sleep because my brain is going so fast, I can’t even pick out what I’m thinking about.  I’m restless. Nothing holds my attention.  I know D had said to push through the frustration, but I can’t seem to muster the motivation to “make it so”…

I would take something for the anxiety, but then I would be a zombie for therapy later today… So I sit here bored, anxious, restless, and frustrated.  I need our car back so I can get out of the house without feeling guilty.  A day at the beach or the Everglades would be awesome right now.  It would give me a change of pace, and I wouldn’t feel so “grounded”.

blah! bored!

creatures of habit

Ever notice how a change in routine can make everything feel weird? I normally have therapy with D on Mondays. This week, it will be Tuesday. I see De on Wednesday. I have been used to seeing D again on Fridays, but this week an out-of-town friend will be coming that day, so all my therapy will be scrunched into 3 days, then nothing. I’m hoping my friend will not be more stress than positive times (ok, my ex is coming for the weekend… we are friends, but she is coming 1500mi to visit for the weekend. My wife and I spent a weekend at their house once a few years ago, but it had been driving distance at the time.  I was also in a better head-space). She tends to be critical of my mental health and how I am coping. Let’s hope she’s gentle this time around.
Anyway, I hope I can get back to see D next Monday, and figure out a schedule with De that will work.
I want to tackle everything with De at once, and I know she wants to take things slow. I think I may need to talk to her about that. I hope I can trust her. And I hope she can help me. I really need to figure all this out.

Anyway, this weird therapy schedule is throwing me off.  The only thing that hasn’t changed is that we see our couple’s therapist on Thursday… At least that will be consistent.

On a sad note, a huge reptile show will also be happening this weekend, and I just don’t have the money to attend.  We finally live close enough to drive up, but I don’t have the cash for the gas, the entry fee, or the supplies I would need… ::sad face:: Maybe Disability will come through with some miracle so I can not only pick up my car from the shop, but also make it to the show and get the stuff I need there.

I find myself bored and antsy… restless.  I’m watching TV, but can’t get into this second half of the episode.  I want to talk or walk or run or something but not sure what will help alleviate this feeling.  It’s frustrating yet familiar.  It’s anxiety.  I think I will try to walk the dogs after this episode.  If that doesn’t work, I will try my music, maybe some art.  If that doesn’t work (or happen), I will likely try to sleep.  I hate this restless feeling.  To top it off, my stomach has been a mess all week.  I’m beginning to think that it is part of the anxiety…

Journal entry from 11/15/2010 – TRIGGER WARNING & LONG

Found a few journal entries from a few years ago.  I’m afraid I may lose them in my email, so I’ll be putting them here.  Many will be private, but some I may make public… I’m far-enough removed from the experiences to risk putting them out there…  I may make this one private shortly, but for the moment it’s out there for everyone to read.

This one has some graphic descriptions of SI, a suicide attempt, eating disorder behavior, and details of sexual assault… please don’t read it if it will trigger you.

Names have been removed and replaced with initials to maintain anonymity.  Spelling errors have been fixed, but the rest has been left in tact in the form that was sent to my therapist at the time.

_____________________________________________________________________________________

had a good day.  signed c’s lease.  we will be moving in around dec 1st… it’ll be a bit weird, but whatever… we need to get out of here, so it’s a step up.. and cheaper over-all then here…

I feel like I should be writing something, but I am not sure what.  Been feeling weird lately.  wanting to take klonpin during the day instead of how it’s prescribed… wanting to drink… wanting to float away.  not as off as I was feeling last week… seem to have alighted on a branch somewhere on my way down.  kinda like that I didn’t take a huge fall.  i can’t afford it; financially, emotionally & in terms of our relationship… it would just be too much for her…  I have fleeting thoughts of od’ing… thoughts of crashing the car, or jumping out in front of a train… just thoughts… and just fleeting.  but fleeting thoughts can sometimes lead to impulsive actions.  I’m not going to go down that road any more… i’m wearing everyone around me out… i’m too much.  too much drama, too much emotion, too much to handle…  I really wish L would get some more support for herself, and use it regularly… she’s frying out her friends and supports and me… it’s a catch-22… I stress her out & she stresses me out in response to my stressing… and it just cycles.  I got her in touch with a therapist in Dr. C’s office, but she only went once and didn’t even call about being sick for the second session, I had to do that… i hope she goes back to her.  she needs more then I or her friends can give her.  and she needs to learn more about depression and ptsd and suicidality…  I can’t teach her that, because I am too wrapped up in it…

I miss Samantha Jane.  she was only with me for a short time (well, she had been there for a while, but rarely showed herself.  just hid in the closet or in the fibers of the carpet…  Dr. C said she thought it may be some mild DID going on, but it wasn’t/isn’t… just someone I can picture loving, coz it’s hard to picture myself as a person during my childhood and much of my teens… I see pictures, but i don’t necessarily connect them to myself.  I try, but it’s hard.  it’s like memorizing what people have said about the events in the picture to know what to say when someone asks what was happening then… I have no real memory of it, just the stories I’ve been told… it’s sad… and empty-feeling, like I’ve just now become worthy of person-hood… but still at the bottom of the ladder…  not totally a whole person, but on my way there… that’s where Samantha Jane should have come in… giving me some link to the world of being a human…  i felt sub-human (proto-human as Andy would call it) for most of my life.  this is a very new feeling.  i don’t think anyone really gets it.  I don’t really know how to describe it to anyone.  It’s just that before I was empty and just a shell… now I’m slowly trying to fill up that shell with something that vaguely resembles a human being… but it’s hard.  I feel like that wire statue that someone has filled with wet sand.  while the sand is moist, it holds the shape.  as the sand dries, it falls out of that form, turning into a pile at her feet.  I’ve wanted to make that piece for a long time now, I just don’t really know how to execute it.  I’ve never really done wire-work before.. and I don’t know how to keep wetting and drying out the sand… it’s a fluid piece that needs that slow progression from emptiness to form to a pile of sand at her feet…  Maybe if i figured out the wire-work, then took a video of the process of filling her up, moistening the sand, then letting it dry… that might work… but I really like the idea of an actual piece that you can see and touch… feel the sand, both wet & dry… pick up the piece in both states and get the metaphor of the feeling… but I will likely sit in my head for a longer while until I gain the skills to produce it.  I wish i was better at my art.  I wish I didn’t take the easy way out with photographs lately… but I just can’t draw anymore.  I can’t paint… it’s all left me.  I try, but nothing looks right… nothing feels right when I’m done… except those pieces from the hospital (and even out of those, I only liked a few).  I need to take a class or something… join a group… anything to get me flowing in art again.  pics are great, but I feel like they take less and less creativity… eventually, everyone’s photos all look the same… even on dA where people are supposed to be growing and finding unique and new ways to present the subject… it’s all really the same.  all the fall pics look alike.  you can’t tell one sunrise from another… even in my own work.  I don’t feel there’s much originality to it…

Speaking of work on dA… I read some moving journals and notes…  they were on recent suicides of people… everyone seems to know how to describe the Hollywood version of it, the romanticized version of suicide where it all goes well and you never have second thoughts… truth is, you do, and it doesn’t always all go as planned.  If it did, i wouldn’t be here today.  I would have died that time with N… No one ever recognizes the second-guessing part.  I don’t even think therapists get it (unless maybe they’ve been there and tried it…).  There’s that momentary feeling of fear and being trapped by your decision… even though you have only made the decision to end your life by yourself, you’ve only committed to doing it to yourself, you somehow feel trapped in that decision… I hadn’t even started taking the pills, but I felt compelled to go through with it, even though I was frightened and unsure… I felt like I had to do it… so I started taking the pills, and the fear slipped away.  I was once again ok (not sure, but ok) with my decision… I didn’t know what to do after I swallowed them all… would I just wait?  would I know what was happening? would I just fall asleep and never wake up?  I grabbed Beary and my iPod on repeat with Breaking Benjamin’s “Phobia” and curled up under the blanket hoping that it would all be quick… I don’t remember stumbling out of bed and throwing up… I don’t remember N finding me.  I don’t remember the ride to the hospital, or having my stomach pumped and charcoal dumped down a tube into my stomach.  I don’t remember getting the IV’s.  I don’t remember watching tv with N and laughing as if nothing had happened… as if I wasn’t in the ICU for a suicide attempt… I don’t even remember the first 20 times my doctor introduced herself to me… (this was all told to me after the fact).  I vaguely remember floating in a soft cloud… someone smacking my hand because it was going for the IV again… someone telling me I would be restrained if I didn’t leave my IV alone… me telling them my arm hurt… them reminding me I had IV’s… vague memories of being tied to the bed… of being talked around and at by the nurses and the visitors (though I have no idea who visited or who my doctors or nurses were…) It was all just a fluffy dream… the impact of not having taken my life did not sink in until I was in IOL…  I became angry at N & those that “helped save my life” because I did not want to be saved… I wanted to put an end to the depression, hurt and emptiness… the worthlessness and chaos inside my head… the feeling of being left alone in this world, because I wasn’t worth the energy to fight to keep me… I had lost someone every time I had gone to the hospital… you think I would have figured it out by then… by now… but it still hits me sometimes… in the car yesterday, L was saying how she never thought she’d be so poor that she would have to go to a food pantry to get food into the house… that she never thought she’d be this sad… in my head, I thought that none of this would have happened if she never had gotten to know me.  If we had never talked that first night… she would be so much better off if she wasn’t with me… if she was with someone stable and caring and easy-going and so much better then me.  she deserves that.  everyone deserves that.  I am not sure why anyone considers me worth a second glance.  I guess I know why when I put on my smile and my happy face… but I don’t know why anyone would want to know me when I’m a mess… which is a lot these days… and people still think I am worth attention… I don’t really get it.  My dad thinks all of this is for attention… all of this is to get away from the attention.  to hide and float away from myself and everyone else.  I threw out M’s pot…  I should have kept it, even though I know it would have messed me up for the next few days, and that I can get better stuff if I just ask around… I want to drink or take pills or something to get me away from myself… but the bad part about it all is that it’s only temporary, and i will “wake up” to myself once the substance wears off… sucks… I wish there was a way to be high all the time, without ruining my life, my relationship, or having all the detrimental effect of substances… cutting does that, but again it’s only for a while… disassociation helps that, but then I end up missing life and just getting myself deeper into a hole… and I want to be present for L & the kids… I want to know and feel them… but at times, being numb would feel great… and not that kind of numb where you know something’s bubbling just under the surface, destined to break out… but the kind of numb where the bad feelings go away, and you are left with the normal, even mood that most normal people experience… where memories don’t intrude daily, and nightmares are about monsters under the bed, not in your bed with you.  agh… I want to cut… I want to float away… I want to be at peace… not pieces… I’m afraid to bring this up to L or Dr. C because I’m not suicidal… and I don’t want to go there (or maybe i really am more comfortable in the blackness and push myself there deliberately…).  I know I should want to be happy, and part of me really does want to leave all this behind… but there’s another part of me that feels really uncomfortable and out of place in a happy world.  she’s the part of me that survived so much… dealt with so much… and gave up so much… she’s the child that Samantha Jane represents… she’s the one who just wants to stop hurting and being scared, but has been like that for so long, that the outside world really scares her… she doesn’t know what to do with it all.  it’s overwhelming and troublesome because the ways she learned to survive all this time doesn’t work there, and she has to learn a whole new way of life… maybe that’s why she ran away… maybe she just doesn’t have the energy to learn it all just yet… maybe she’s really just hiding under the blanket with Beary listening to her iPod to keep her company… music and art have always been comfort to her… and Floppy-dog… I really miss her… I so wanted Budda because he looks and acts like her, though intellectually I know he isn’t her… he just brought me & Samantha Jane comfort… another throw-back to what works… I love Sadie & Alex, but it’s just not the same… there was something very special about Flops… and I think part of it had to do with the situations we were living though.  She did the best she could to protect me, mom & A & K from dad & bitch… she took a lot of abuse for it… but she somehow felt responsible to do it… like I felt responsible to take care of everyone to make it all better… and neither of us succeeded… both Floppy and I ended up just getting more hurt the more we tried… I miss her so much.  And she reminds me of Kl… I miss her too though I’ve been slowly realizing that she wasn’t as great as I remember… she was abusive in her own way… but she also protected us in so many ways.  T tried too… he stayed away from my dad unless he had to physically intervene to protect us… and he stayed away from A because he did not want to end up like his family and abuse him… he really was a good man… but so tortured and protective.  I think that’s why he and K fought so many times… he hated to see dad being abusive to us… he rarely said anything, and was always “a grouch”… but I think that’s how he protected himself from feeling too helpless in protecting us.  I don’t know… nor will I ever know for sure… but i guess that’s my fantasy of him, because I needed to have some sort of positive role-model in my family… everyone else took part in the fights and abuse… everyone else was caught in the mix.  He made sure to stay out of it the best he could…

I feel sad and longing for a real sense of self… longing to have SJ back to be able to assure her and protect her like I couldn’t do with everyone else… like I couldn’t do with myself even with duck-boy… mom even called one time because she thought something was wrong… because she had heard me call out in her head, and needed to make sure I was ok.  I had thought about her helping me just then, but I couldn’t grab the phone, and he wouldn’t leave me alone… to keep him happy, I didn’t tell mom anything, just sat there while he touched me and groped me and told me it all wasn’t sexual… he would lock his bedroom door even when no one was around.  He made sure I always wore short shorts around him so he could feel me whenever he wanted… he would zip open his pants and rub himself on me… but it wasn’t anything sexual… we had intercourse in his parent’s pool… but it wasn’t sexual because we both had our bathing suits on… he put his fingers inside me when we sat on the couch babysitting his little brother… but it wasn’t sexual… he made me dry-hump his erect penis, but it wan’t sexual because we had our clothes on… he made me suck his penis… stroke him and feel him and lick him and fondle him until he came, but it wasn’t sexual… I can feel his fingers touching me and making way for his penis… i can feel him inside me still as I write this.  the memories are strong and painful… it was painful… i remember crying inside, and wishing the date would end so I could go home and curl up… so i could wash him off of me… but I kept going back… for months I kept going back… then he graduated and I thought I’d be free of him when he went away to FSU… it was far enough away, and he would meet other girls… but in reality he called me every night to “chat” which was really checking up on me and grilling me on what I had been doing all day, who I was with, and what I thought about.  Did I miss him?  Did I think of him every second of the day?  Did I know he was coming home this weekend and he wanted me to spend the night at his parent’s place with him…?  We did more sexual acts on those weekends then we had ever done before.  He’d claim it wasn’t sexual, but by then I knew better… I had lost my total submission to him… when he went back to school, I would talk to J and try to find a way to get out of the relationship.  She would even offer me to stay at her house the weekends he was home… but he would come looking for me, so I declined.  I tried to break up with him for months… every time he said he loved me and that we could make it work and that he couldn’t go on without me… the day after he gave me a suicide note, I had J call his school and report it… he got SO mad at me for it… even though I just wanted to protect his life… he said if I really cared about him and wanted him to live, I would not break up with him… so I stayed a few more months, all the time half-assed trying to break up with him… them finally he came home for the summer, and I told him I did not want to see him anymore.  He yelled at me over the phone.  When I hung up, he drove over in the middle of the night crying, begging me to take him back… J and I had written out a script for just this occasion… I kept reading it back to him.  he kept begging me and threatening his life… finally,I told him he had to leave or my mom would call the cops (told him she was there with me, in the bedroom, and if he didn’t leave by 1am, she would call the police)… it made him leave… at least for then.  he kept trying to get back together, but I don’t remember much of that… My anorexia got worse… I started cutting while I was with him… he pretended to care… i pretended to care… but I really didn’t care about anything but being afraid to gain weight… afraid to keep living.  I didn’t remember this part (the early start of the cutting and suicidal ideation) until I read a profile I had written for a website a college student & I had started together… it was supposed to be a peer-run support site for teens and young adults… I vaguely remember doing it for about a year and a half, then it fading away as she & I both got busier (though I think it was mostly her…).  we dropped updating the site and checking the email… so the site closed down… and as I was cleaning to pack today, I found a rough draft of that profile… i didn’t remember that everything had started that early… I know the eating disorder started after K died, and increased significantly while I was with duck-boy… I went from a size 13-14 to a size 3 in a matter of a few months… the woman I babysat for kept asking me if I was losing weight… I kept saying no, coz at the time it wasn’t about the weight, it was just a sub-conscious attempt to deal with life… if I could only fade away, nothing could hurt me anymore… then the cutting started… as scratches with a pin at first for a long time… about the first two years or so of my bout with self-injury remained at scratching with pins, paper clips & keys… that night at the play, when I got no recognition at all for my work behind the scenes, I ran out the back and grabbed the car keys from my pocket.  I scratched my arm so long and hard behind the building that my entire left arm was a huge raw bruise for the next few weeks… I remember G coming after me when I ran out of the auditorium, but not finding me till later… she caught me scratching, but didn’t tell on me… she scratched too… that was the first time I had encountered anyone else that did it. As the months progressed, and my anorexia got worse, J called my parents to tell them about it b/c she was scared for me… my dad said that I was just doing it for attention, and hung up the phone… I had made J promise to call me back after she had spoken to my parents… she told me how it went… i am not sure what else happened, but I remember searching like mad for something to scratch with and only finding scissors… that was my graduation to cutting… she never told them about that though… One time when I got back from Kairos and felt really depressed, I called her and left her a scary message (so she says… I didn’t mean anything by it other then being really tired and wanting an out…)  I went to a Kairos post-event that night, and she almost ended up calling the cops on me because she thought I had tried to kill myself. She had called my mom first though, and she told J that I was at the Kairos thing… later that night J called me and told me how scared I had made her, and that I shouldn’t do that again… so I only left her happy messages after that.  She still knew I was sad and hurting, but we only talked about that stuff in her office… I kept my nightly despair to myself…  She saved my life in so many ways… if she and her boyfriend hadn’t been so caring and helpful, I would have died a long time ago… I forgot I had tried to kill myself then… but it was only a mild overdose if anything… not even enough to make me sleepy… how is it that I forgot all this until writing it?  it’s all coming back to me.  that night after the play, the stays at J’s… the panic of gaining weight again (once it finally became about the weight, and no longer just a method of control),  the vomiting…  the half-spoon of fruit baby food or yogurt that I could barely force down because it felt too much (slowly trying to kill myself with starvation).  It’s funny, I lost so much weight, and refused to eat so blatantly, yet no one noticed except Mrs. K (the woman whose sons I babysat).  Her & J… but J gave up on my parent’s helping me (she had tried so many times) that she just referred me herself to Renfrew for a support group (you had to have been in the hospital before to get out-patient or in-patient treatment…) and then my parents would have to realize I had a problem that was deeper then attention-seeking… so I stuck to the support groups… mom actually came with me a few times… then dad yelled at both of us for wasting gas and time… so we stopped going, and that was the end of my treatment till i came to UConn…  That part is where my memory gets better…

Wow, that was a dump… maybe I should send this to Dr. C and maybe she will have time to read it by tomorrow… (please tell me if you mind that I sent this to you)…

Eggshells

How do you tell someone they are acting exactly like the person they hated?  How do you suggest that they are doing the exact same behaviors and still have it received instead of blowing up in your face?  How do you let them in that it is all very triggering and frightening.  How do you tell them that you know they are not that other person, but they are behaving like that other person?  It’s such a hot-button topic that I am pretty sure I will be seen as mean and hurtful by saying it… I wish I had recordings of the past to play along-side of recordings of the present… I think that would be evidence that cannot be over-looked, but I don’t have it.  I know I have said before that the person is not this other person, but they sure sound that way.  It fell on deaf ears and was categorically denied.  I tried stating what bothered me about the past, and what of it was triggering.  I tried to mention that some of that goes on today, and I’m sure it’s not on purpose, but it’s happening.  Again, I was met with denial.

It’s really triggering my PTSD though, and it sends my head in wild spirals…  There’s no way out of the current situation, so that is not an option.  I know I can’t change this person, but I can’t change my reactions either right now (I’m not sure I ever want to be accepting of the abusive language and sentiments)…  I’m trapped again.  It sucks again.  It makes everything else worse.  So now what?  I’m trying so hard to find an effective therapy for myself to be able to over-come the past, but it’s happening all over again (albeit to  lesser degree) today.  No amount of therapy will work if it continues in the present…

Just gotta keep swimming… tiptoeing around these eggshells all over again and hope not to upset the status-quot on a daily basis until we can change the situation.  I hate it all over again.  There are positive times, but the negatives are seared into my brain.  This sucks.

Take a Moment to Catch the Sunset

I had to take some updated pics of one of my geckos for sale, and it happened to be at sunset.  I’m loving these sunsets, even the more “plain” ones…  Even Coco enjoyed it.

10 “lies” your depression tells you + a few of my own

There was this article on HuffingtonPost.com.  I would not necessarily say they are lies so much as they are beliefs I hold.  I would change #1 slightly to read “You are not a worthy person, you deserve only this.”  I equate being a bad person with rapists and murderers of which I am neither, so I find I do not feel I am a bad person, I just deserve all the bad that has, is, and will happen…

I would also add:

11) You have no energy, just go back to bed.

12) No one wants to hang out with you anyway.

13) Since nothing safe makes any of this better, keep on keeping on with the si, pills, and drinking.

Breathing room

I ended up taking on a chat for a while. I figured out why I was so off, and what I needed to make sure to address next appointment.  The person also convinced me to just leave a message for De to let her know I was struggling with some stuff.  I’m not sure she works again until Monday, but even just leaving the message helped.  I guess sometimes admitting the struggle helps relieve it a bit… it’s not stuff I feel comfortable taking to L or mom about quite yet, but maybe down the line that will happen.  I need to come to terms with it a bit more first.
My trazodone is finally kicking in. Night.

weird space

I don’t really have a better description of it… it’s a combination of depressed, sad, lost, overwhelmed, tired, and… weird.  I dunno.  D and I tried to describe it more accurately, but I couldn’t pinpoint what it is.  Between the stuff brought up in the intake, and then D deciding it would be a good idea to try to give me a DBT worksheet, I’m just lost.  I don’t know why people don’t believe me when I say DBT and anything to do with it is very triggering.  We were able to tackle some of the questions on the worksheet when I asked him to re-phrase them and not have me see the paper… It’s such a trigger for me.  He commented on how I started to shut down after he showed me the paper… why is me saying it not enough?  I am hyper-vigilant to the font, the lay-out, the language… It was such a bad experience for me when I did those stupid programs.  I was able to do the group at D’s office because we didn’t rely heavily on the workbook used at IOL.  The language was triggering at times, but not using it so much helped ground when those trigger alarms went off.  It was difficult to do today because I was already a little raw from the intake… and the stupid worksheet… visuals are harder for me sometimes.  I can often times talk myself out of the auditory triggers when the voices are different and the visuals don’t match.  Talking myself out of the visual trigger was more difficult.  I handed the paper right back to him and asked not to use the same language.  The cognitive tasks of answering the questions that were worded differently also helped ground a bit, but it still sent my mind blank.  I had difficulty thinking and answering.  He had to repeat a lot of what he said a few times before I could get back to my train of thought.  I think if I hadn’t just done the history with De, I would not have reacted so strongly to the worksheet… but seriously, what is it with people needing to test the things I say?  I tell you I react badly to DBT, please respect that.

De expressed disappointment when I told her I was “allergic” to DBT.  She says she uses a lot of the dichotomy of loving oneself but still striving for better.  I had never really picked up on that from DBT, but maybe it’s because I don’t love myself (can’t even really say I like myself most of the time)… She was also surprised at how quickly I completed the Trauma Symptom Inventory (TSI) – I think it took me no more than 15 minutes.  It may have been because I spent an entire year researching the instrument’s validity with eating disordered clients (it is highly correlated with SA, but had not yet been correlated with ED at the time.  My research found it to also correlate highly with ED independent of any SA history)…  but anyway, I digress.    She was surprised at how fast I did it.  We talked a bit about the “answers of concern” and I had wanted to qualify other ones, but I couldn’t remember anymore what they were.  It’s amazing how quickly things can slip from my conscious awareness.  There was one I remembered and wanted to go into more depth with, but I wasn’t sure if I really wanted to open that can of worms so soon.

She kinda went over a treatment plan, but it was mostly asking what I felt was important to cover.  I think there was only one thing she mentioned that I felt was of no concern: I have no desire to mend relationships with any of my abusers.  There’s some other stuff I admitted to needing to address, but again, the trust is not yet there, so I don’t know how much of it I wanted to talk about today.  One day it may also end up on this blog but, at this time, it’s too personal and raw/immediate/close to touch on even privately (forget about publicly).

So now I’ve floated into this weird space that is neither positive nor negative, but somewhere in between.  I had hoped to be able to sleep when I got home, but I think it may be impossible without some meds.  I don’t want to take those until I am ready to sleep for the night.  I hate taking them, but I’m glad I have them because I know insomnia messes with me a lot.  At least this way I can (hopefully) knock myself into unconsciousness and REM sleep for tonight.  My sleep started faltering a few days ago.  I need to get back on schedule and keep working on that as a coping skill.  De said we will be emphasizing positive coping to help minimize any decompensation that comes from addressing all of this (gesturing to my whole self).

I feel like I need to be writing more, but I am not sure what else to write.  I just feel like I should be reaching out and communicating again.  Once again however, I’m not 100% sure what needs to be communicated or how it should be done, or even with whom.  So I’ll leave it open to discussion as needed/wanted/feels ok.

I’m also struggling with the concept of using substances/meds to help get through this weird numb-but-overwhelmingly-emotional-at-the-same-time state of being.  Depending on what and how much I drink, it may get better or worse.  And depending on which meds I take, I may be pretty out of it for the weekend.  As alluring as those all are, I’m not sure any of them are necessarily smart choices.  I could use the DBT concept of “riding the wave” of emotion, but it’s hard not to worry about even that getting me in trouble again (you’d think therapy programs that are in the same building would communicate about strategies they teach clients so one does not punish what the other would applaud, but I guess that’s asking a lot).