5 people in the past two days have asked me if I’m mad at them or if I’m ignoring them… this is leading me to think i present as more shut down than I realize… I was going to throw it out there to you guys, but then realized that I haven’t been here much lately. I guess I am more shut down than usual.
Monthly Archives: November 2016
Sorry I haven’t been around much lately. It’s been a combination of stuff, mostly stress and moderate depression symptoms. I stopped the lexapro after a week due to side effects. I’d triggered myself with some doctor’s appointments, and just my general malaise around holidays. It’s finally getting a bit easier to do things again.
In an effort to have some fun with the holidays this year, I joined a holiday stocking swap. I was really excited about the concept of painting a custom stocking based on the likes and dislikes of my random partner.
I went through a bunch of initial concept ideas, but crossed them off for various reasons (mostly because I couldn’t execute them properly). I originally wanted to turn the stocking upside down and make it into a unicorn. I was going to add a horn, ears, and mane to the stocking while opening either the back of the neck or the head to keep the concept of a stocking. That involved too much sewing though, so I scrapped it. I eventually settled on simply painting a design on the stocking. I think it came out cute. It still needs a few finishing touches, but I like it so far… the stars, moon, and bulbs all glow in the dark. The ice also has a coat of blue interference paint to give it an icy shimmer.
It needs to be sent out by the end of the week. I will be looking for a couple of other things to add to the package, then off it goes. I hope the recipient likes it… if nothing else, L really likes the stocking and wants another one for herself. Guess I’m off to buy more paintable stockings.
I’m not sure exactly what I was hoping to get out of talking to Dr F about my memories, but I don’t feel like I got what I needed… I wish I knew what it was I needed. I know part of it was wanting to talk to her about her experiences with her other patient who self harmed like I did (without breaking confidentiality of course), but I didn’t know what to ask or how to ask about it. Other than that, I’m at a loss for what I needed from the interaction.
She was wonderful about it, but I felt like it was a waste of her time (nothing at all she did, all my own judgements about setting an appointment just to talk about history). I know she was trying to make me feel better, but she kept underscoring that everyone has something they don’t talk about. It worked to help me feel more isolated (everyone else seems to be able to handle their shit, but I cut to within inches of my life because I can’t handle some stupid physical sensations)…
She was really great about things though, and offered to have me come in again in 6 months or so to check in. I declined as much for financial reasons as for not wanting to be a thorn in her side. She laughed and said that insurance will cover “problem” appointments, even if they only cover one annual ever 2 years… I guess she’s not pissed at me if she offered to have me come in more often just to touch base. Maybe next time I will find a way to talk to her about her experiences with that other patient.
I’ve decided that I want to talk to my gyn a bit more about my history. She’s seen the aftermath, I figure she might benefit from hearing the original story (though not necessarily specific details).
Granted, I’m struggling with the selfishness of telling her (it’s really only so I can talk to someone other than Dr C about it. I trust Dr F, and she’s still bound by confidentiality), but I hope maybe it will help her understanding of any other patients that might present like I did. I know I scared and shocked her when I presented to her after self harming in an attempt to rid myself of body memories. I can still hear the panic in her voice, and see the expression on her face as she suddenly felt helpless to fix things (I’m guessing she’s not used to feeling helpless regardless of the emergency). I don’t remember much else about that day, but I remember her panic being palpable in that moment before her mask slipped back into place. I never meant to traumatize people, I was just trying to escape hell.
Anyway, I see Dr F again next week. I’m going to attempt to talk to her at that time. I’m going to write down what I want to tell her. I hope that will provide something for her to at least read if I chicken out again. I really want to be able to share this story even though I don’t always believe it myself… now, to put my thoughts in coherent order so I can express them to Dr F.
I’ve seen Dr F for going on 5 years now, yet I still panic sitting in her waiting room.
I trust her, I like her as a doctor, but the triggers around gyn exams are still huge and scary. I’m trying to remind myself I trust her and like her and that she’s safe. I’m still shaking…
I’ll start with what sucks. People do astonishingly terrible things to other people–unbelievable, unspeakable, and completely fucked up things. This happens all the time and on every street. Trauma happens in virtually every family. A fair chunk of trauma is caused by people who claim to love the people that they hurt. Many of the most severely traumatized people I have worked with had extensive contact with modern safety net services throughout their childhoods, with repeated foster care placements that resulted in round after round of additional childhood sexual trauma inside the systems designed to protect them. Many of my clients have never had a single safe person, a safe place, or any safe time.
In the vast majority of cases, trauma doesn’t end in childhood. It certainly doesn’t end with the person becoming my client. Trauma is alive in my clients because so little of it has ever been…
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Every once in a while, I get up the nerve to try to explain why someone’s comments in support of trump are hurtful to others; that what the man stands for and how he behaves are abusive… and every time I come up against people telling me how wrong Hillary is. I didn’t bring her into the conversation, but that’s their only defense.
I’m back to feeling like I did growing up; that there’s no escape because no one believes there’s a problem.
I know a huge chunk of the country (and the world) is seriously disturbed by the election results, but it feels like our cries are falling on deaf ears… it’s futile to argue or try to change things…
This election had crushed my faith in society… that anyone, much less half the country, would think it’s wise to put an abusive asshole in power is scary beyond words.
I’m aware there’s a fair amount of transference going on here, but still…
I need you to believe that I’m making this all up. It’s all a story. None of it’s real. I have a really good imagination…
I don’t know exactly what I’m getting from this, but there’s something. And it’s big enough to keep the story going for so long. It’s worth enough that I’m willing to hurt people to get what I need…
It’s attention and laziness and…
And it’s fake. It’s all fake.
Can we move on already?
It was so close…
We started late because we took some time to find a target. Then it took me a while to get into it. Finally I did, but we were out of time.
There was something there, just starting to form into more than emotions, but the next client was waiting. She offered some time after that client, but I didn’t think I’d get back into it. About 10 minutes after I left her office though, the nagging feeling got stronger, like it was something that I’d miss addressing if I didn’t go back. I text her with my change of heart.
When we met up again, she asked what changed my mind. I wasn’t sure how to describe it, but it was something along the lines of someone whispering that I’d miss my chance if I didn’t go back… unfortunately, it wasn’t something I was able to get back into once we started the emdr back up… it was like a quiet, brooding teenager had a glimmer of contact, but she shut down after the interruption. Parts of it came back a bit, but not necessarily in the way it had before.
We did some more emdr for about another 20 minutes, then I just shut down all avenues into the emotion. I know I was in control of it at some level, but it felt out of conscious control. I started dissociating during it, so we wrapped up… I described it like a reaction to touching a hot stove; there was a recoil, but then there was a refusal to even go near the kitchen again… I guess that was my unconscious way of communicating I’d had enough for the day.
I know we talked about high school a bit after the emdr. I told her about my experiences with reaching out, and how they were shut down by the first person I opened up to, then later encouraged by someone else… that part that came up during emdr kinda just spoke freely for a while. I remembered bits and pieces of what it was like to reach out and then to be shut down again by my dad. I remembered how it was easier to just keep talking to my guidance counselor because he couldn’t stop me from seeing her while I was in school…
I dunno… it was productive but not in the way I expected it to be. I still feel weird, kinda dissociated to that high school space. I know the things I recounted actually happened, but even they feel really far away and unreal.
She seems to think it might be liberating to talk to my old guidance counselor about what I think I remember… I’m not sure. It’s potentially really damaging to people, so I don’t want to talk about it with someone not bound by confidentiality, but at the same time, I kinda wish I could talk about it with her or with JF (one of my first therapists)… at least I’m still in contact with my old guidance counselor, so the potential of that is greater than the possibility of ever talking to JF about it, but… I’m really torn about it all. I wouldn’t know how to bring it up, or even if she’d feel comfortable talking about it. I know I’d probably dissociate and get stuck. I’m not sure if she’d take that moment to run away, or if she’d hang to chat… it’s hard to get past the internal censor though. As much as I wish I could talk to her about it, I’m not sure I actually could bring myself to do it…
At least writing this helped me ground some more… sorry if it doesn’t make any sense.