Monthly Archives: December 2014

2014 stats in review

For my own reference (and in case anyone else cares), I’m going to post this… I think I will likely hide it from the blog next week if I remember (since it’s not quite on topic).

The WordPress.com stats helper monkeys prepared a 2014 annual report for this blog.

Here’s an excerpt:

A New York City subway train holds 1,200 people. This blog was viewed about 4,000 times in 2014. If it were a NYC subway train, it would take about 3 trips to carry that many people.

Click here to see the complete report.

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Exhausted

I had the hardest time rolling out of bed today. I’m normally up and moving by 8 or 9. This morning, I started at 7:30, but had to get back into bed after feeding the cats because I was about to fall over. I stayed in bed until almost 11. At that point I got up in a hurry because the dogs had not been attended to yet and I felt guilty. I took them out and gave them breakfast. That tired me out almost to the point of not having enough energy to make coffee. I sat for a bit between activities. Getting up to make the coffee was excruciating. I was out of breath just standing there waiting for it to brew so back to the couch I went. It took me a good 20 minutes after it was done to muster the energy to go get a cup (the couch is maybe 15 feet from the coffee maker). It took me about an hour to drink half of my first cup. Even lifting the cup to my mouth was hard.

Later, I decided to try to clean the house a bit (the little dog likes to mark his territory regardless of potty training). I managed to clean up the pee spots then needed to sit again.

I’m not quite sure what is wrong, but I spent the rest of the day in bed. I was tired, dizzy, and short of breath all day, even when laying down. The inhaler helped for a while, but it wore off in short order… then the nausea hit. I really hope I’m not getting sick, because I don’t want to miss the journal class on the first (I don’t have plans for new year’s eve, so I don’t much care if I’m functioning or not tomorrow night). I was lamenting to L that I had just managed to walk 6 miles at the beach last week but today I can’t walk from the couch to the bed.

I think as the day wore on, I associated the feeling with anxiety because my heart was pounding and flopping in my chest. I wish I still had some Ativan. I might have managed to do more today.

I’m still exhausted and don’t have the energy to stand for more than it takes to walk to the bed or the bathroom, but my heart has stopped racing and the nausea is gone. Let’s hope the dizziness, weakness, and exhaustion disappear overnight…

If I had better insurance, I might have gone to the doctor at least for some anxiety meds, but my monthly deductible is way too high. We are trying to save money, not spend it. It’s funny, the country mandates health insurance, yet it doesn’t do anything to help the people that fall between the state and federal aid guidelines. According to the state, I get too much money from disability to qualify for aid, but according to the federal government, the state should be helping me out. I can’t win.


“It’s stupid”

Someone on a forum brought up the concept of thinking something is really important outside of therapy, then getting to the session and deeming it unimportant. It got me thinking about how I decide what to say, and what I will verbalize as being unimportant. I found that I rarely consciously think something is no longer important unless I’m terrified to talk about it. I will have a really strong desire to talk about it outside of session. I feel a lot of emotions relating to it, but when it comes down to talking about it, I panic. I worry about how it will sound, and I worry about judgement. So when I start to say it, I end up pausing and brushing it off as “stupid” or “not important” because I’m really just terrified to talk about it…
It’s times like these I know I really need to talk about it, but I also need some more evidence of trust or acceptance from the therapist. TL had figured out that me labeling something unimportant meant it was actually probably very important but I was afraid to talk about it. We would have conversations around what could make it safer to bring up. She would also remind me a million times that she did not think anything I said was stupid, she held no judgement around it, and she would be there to talk about it whenever I felt ready… I hope she put notes on that down for the next therapist. It might make opening up a bit easier.

I’m holding my breathe for this new therapist to call. There’s something very specific that I need to talk about because it has come up very prominently again. Part of me wonders if I should call the hotline at De’s old office and see if I can talk a bit to someone there. I’m not sure what good it would do though. The hotline is really only there for crisis intervention and emergencies. This is neither. This is just something I really need to talk about with someone in hopes that it fades again for a while… my other thought was calling them to see how long their waiting list was, and if it would be appropriate for me to get on it (not sure how they feel about me having received services there recently and wanting to return). It’s tough to find someone that knows what to do with the sexual assault stuff though…
I wish I had the money to see Dr D (she was D’s supervisor and specialized in trauma). Maybe she could help with this? (Though I would need to have a conversation with her around what is more helpful in response to a crisis. I think I frustrated them when I was there last. It felt like there came a point where they were desperately trying to move me on, but couldn’t find resources to connect me with. I wouldn’t want to put them in that position again. I think when I hit a crisis point, I need someone to remind me that I’m going to figure it out and get through it… it worked with TL, though I didn’t see her for very long. Maybe it wouldn’t work after a few months. I think I would just need to ask that she not panic in response to my panic… I dunno. It’s pointless to think about all this because I can’t afford her anyway…)

I dunno. Thinking about what I label as unimportant in session has me realizing it’s always the most important and scary stuff. Sometimes I just need someone there to hold my hand through it and be with me while I talk. SJ really needs to feel safe. I think that’s why I’m thinking of De’s agency again, because SJ was safe there… there’s something to be said for making the kid feel safe while she cries out her story… I really need it to be OK for her to talk and be heard and be healed. It’s not fair that she has to carry all this alone. I wish I could help her carry it, but I sucked at protecting her when she went through it so what would allow her to think I’d be helpful now?


Weird dream

Had a weird dream, but I don’t remember what it was. Even the understanding of knowing it was a weird dream is fading. The harder I try to pinpoint what it was about, the faster it slips away. It’s leaving me with a weird feeling though. I wish I knew how to describe it. I usually call it “post-weird-dream weirdness” (very descriptive, I know). Maybe it’s a feeling of still being partially in the dream; as if my my body were still there at the same time it’s here? That’s not really it either.
I’m not sure. Anyone else ever have a weird feeling after dreaming? Can you pin down what it is? Do you know how to describe it?

On another note; I had found the blog from the summer when TL had finally called for the first time. I was struggling a lot back then (more so then this time) and I was so relieved that she had called… while I’m not as desperate as I was then, I still wish the next new therapist would call. I know, I’m probably too reliant on therapy right now, but I also know it’s not a permanent thing. I’m just a bit lost. I could use the support. When I can figure out how to get back to a meaningful life, it won’t matter as much.

I think I remember part of the weird dream… I think it was… gone again. Oh well…


Shared from WordPress

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Saw the above pic on this blog yesterday, and it really spoke to me. I think it’s a wonderful description of depression…


Memory is a shifty thing

I have a slight obsession with skulls and human anatomy… I keep trying to draw it, but my memory of what it should look like is seldom accurate. I tend to be a bit stubborn about reference pics (more so lazy as sin about having to look for an adequate pic from which I can draw), so my sketches are off until I get frustrated with the result. Then I look up a reference pic and do better…

 

It got me thinking about memory. There’s an interesting TEDtalk by Elizabeth Loftus on the inherent errors in memory. She demonstrates how malleable and suggestive we can be around reporting events… So what makes me think that my memory is all that reliable about the past? I mean, yeah, there’s the flashbacks which may or may not be altered by perception and time, but what about the rest of it? We get so riled-up in emotion around things we remember, but how accurate are they really?

Just something to think about…


can’t drag myself out of this…

The break from the heaviness is so fleeting. Today there was about an hour after I woke up where I wasn’t trying to battle tears or thoughts of suicide. It’s relentless. I try the positivity stuff, I try getting out of the house, I try reminding myself that all things change in life so this will have to change also (though with my depressed brain, it’s translated to the knowledge that the relief will always be replaced by the heaviness)… nothing is working and stresses are pilling up. The full mortgage payment comes due next month which is a $900/month bill I cannot meaningfully contribute towards. The house taxes will again come due in March, and we again are so far behind that there is no way to pay. If the bank doesn’t take the house, the county will. I still don’t have money to move back up north with my wife…

The body memories are coming more frequently than they have in a few months. The desire to self harm because of them is through the roof. L and I have frequent arguments about any time I drink (which admittedly is often, but better than cutting or OD’ing). I’m in that limbo between therapists still. It kinda sucks, though I wouldn’t know what a therapist could do at this point. The depression is too oppressive. I’m not sure what can change it. Medications are kinda tempting to try again, if for no other reason then to give me a way out at some point… I can’t really afford any more intensive therapy or any meaningful hospitalization, so it’s pointless.

I’m tired. I’m so tired of this struggle. I just want it done. I want the sadness to stop and I want to be able to move on with my life… not even art or music is bringing any relief at this point.