Tag Archives: angry

Loss in any form is difficult, especially when you have not dealt with the past ones yet.

So I’ve had a few hours to sit with the concept of De leaving the agency.  I had cried about it (yup, actual tears spilling down my face. Not just tearing up, but real crying complete with gross boogers).  I was somewhat able to “talk” to L about it.  I have thought about it, and processed it, and moved past the anger (it was fleeting).  I’m in a weird flat place right now. If I think too hard or too long about it, I will cry again (have I mentioned I hate crying?).  So I’m concentrating on little things.  I’m concentrating on typing my words correctly (I’m sure there will be many mistakes, and I suck at proof-reading, always have).  I’m concentrating on keeping the dogs from going nuts because they are tired and want to get to bed.  I am taking breaks to take them outside one by one so I can finally put the boys to sleep.  I was concentrating on listening to my mom as she talked about how we may go about fixing the fridge.  I’m concentrating on the decision-making process of whether or not to start into Game of Thrones again tonight, or go with something easier, like Orange is the New Black, or Grey’s Anatomy or Dexter.  I’m concentrating on wanting to find a way to express myself either through art or writing, but certainly no more crying.

I’ve been able to formulate and articulate to L that this overwhelming loss I feel at the termination with De is really the compilation of losses that I have yet to deal with.  It goes back decades.  It’s disproportionate to the relationship because it is so much more than just this one relationship. It’s the loss of friends and family and memories and innocence.  It’s the loss of supports and home-bases.  It’s the loss of a sense of security.  And it’s the premature loss of someone I had expected to lose, but managed to trust anyway.  I am not good with loss.  I never have been.  Sure I can smile through changes, but the tears always glisten in my eyes.  This time they broke free.  I don’t know if was because of how worn-down I feel lately, the creeping depression, or the fact that De was the first (only) person to hear some really heavy stuff. I was prepared to walk away from this relationship at the time of my move.  I was expecting it to help keep me balanced as my stress rose.  Just last week I had asked her for more support.  This week it’s all going away much faster than I had thought.  It’s pointless to try to find another therapist for those last 6 weeks, so I guess I will have to just figure it out on my own (though I am toying with the idea of trying to get a referral to someone for those 6 weeks)… I know it will be ok, because it always is in the end, but right now it feels really shitty.

When she first told me, I couldn’t exactly speak. I was too busy trying to hold back the tears and the sobbing because I knew it was disproportionate to the situation.  My tears didn’t listen to my insistence.  They spilled down my cheeks anyway.  When she asked me to articulate what was going through my head at the moment, all I could muster was a half-whispered “whatever” through clenched teeth.  I was afraid that if I opened my mouth more than that to speak, I would either sob uncontrollably and loudly, or I would speak out of my fear-driven (and old) anger.  She challenged my “whatever” by saying that she knew this was hard for me, and she knew it wasn’t “whatever”.  All I could do was shake my head as more tears streamed down my face.  I couldn’t look at her, so I looked everywhere else in the office and just repeated “whatever” one more time.  We sat in silence for a bit longer as I looked everywhere but where she was sitting.  More rogue tears.  She asked if I could tell her what I was thinking, if self-harm urges came up.  I realised then that my head was frantically backpedaling in an attempt to halt all thought (much like pedaling backward on a BMX bike to brake).  There was a forced-stillness in my head.  Conscious thoughts had stopped.  All efforts were being diverted to stave off any melt-down beyond what had happened.  It struck me as odd that there were no self-harm thoughts or suicidal thoughts.  There just were no thoughts.  She eased into a verbal safety contract, and was able to joke around it, which helped pull me back into the room and back to functioning. When I stumbled over concepts as I tried to agree to what she was asking, she helped out by saying “Whatever you need to agree to to get back here in one piece next week is what we are going to agree to”.  In the past, she had always wanted specifics, but I don’t think I could have given those to her in the moment.  I think I recognized a bit of freedom in that change (and I think I just now recognized how the weight was off her this session.  It was familiar in that I had felt it after I had given notice at the group home, but still had to deal with the kids for 2 more weeks. I no longer cared about the strict rules of etiquette because I was leaving soon. I was able to be more genuine, and the girls had picked up on it with me.  I think that’s what I felt from De today.  It was a freedom from the pressure to be “perfect” in the role… It’s funny how some guidelines are in place to help us do our jobs better, but in the end we are burdened with the pressure to stay within the boundaries – we lose our genuineness…) but I digress.  We chatted about other things for the remainder of the session. She had asked something about letting “us” know if I ever figured out a way to apply my knowledge-base in psych to myself.  I think she was going to go somewhere else with that, but she stopped herself.  I talked about my complete inability to have access to both my emotional and intellectual sides at the same moment.  We talked about this blog, and how it had been born of the idea of being able to look at all of it over time (the more professional side of me when I am in a more emotional space, and the more emotional side of me when I am locked in professional mode).  I told her about an early entry on the concept of  “attention-seeking” and how it is not always as sinister-ly manipulative as the field makes it out to be…  I kept a close eye on the clock because I had brought my Wreck This Journal with me to show her.  With about 5 minutes left, I changed the topic to that.  She always seems genuinely interested in what I bring in, but this time there was something else again.  I showed her the piece with the prompt to “make a paper chain“.  She seemed excited about it.  It was weird because the excitement was different… I’m not sure how to describe it.  She said something along the lines of wishing she could show it to other people because it conveyed so much more than just words could. The way she said it made me feel like she was trying to make a point to someone.  I had wanted to tell her she could (I may have imagined it, but it looked like she was ready to get up and walk out of her office with the book. She scootched forward in her chair as she had said that about showing it to others), but I was caught off guard.  The words “you could” spun around in circles in my brain, but never made it to my tongue… We moved on to scheduling after she looked a bit more at my book.  She pondered the best way to fit in the second appointment.  I put my vote in for Tuesday & Friday citing my “OCD-ish tendencies” for wanting to space out the days a bit more. She actually laughed and said she prefered that for the same reason (more genuine-ness).  So I will be seeing her twice a week for the next few weeks until she leaves.  We will be figuring out the content of our sessions as we go.  She checked-in about the possibility of doing more Duckboy work on Tuesday, and would I be ok if she sprung it on me that day.  I told her I was open to whatever, but that I needed her to lead if it was the Duckboy stuff because I feel totally lost on what to do with it.  I think she was still deciding on how to approach Tuesday.  There are a lot of days between now and Tuesday, so my opinion may change, but for now I’m ok with pushing the assault topics.  I guess it depends on how far I get with this internal processing of her leaving instead of me leaving.  I may decide by Tuesday tha I really need to talk to her about some of this stuff and whatever else it will bring up.


why is it not ok?

Why is it frowned-upon to cut a family member out of your life if they cause nothing but grief?  Why is it not accepted that I no longer want to speak to my father or hear about him, or have him anywhere near me?  We have a long history of disappointments and abuse.  I don’t need to have that in my life anymore.  I have made the decision to not speak to him or see him.  Why is that considered selfish?  I had a long conversation with my mom today about him. Several times, she tried to convince me that I should “forgive” (not her word, but the gist of what she meant) him and not be so staunch in my refusal to see him or have him visit.  I tried to make my point that we are now all adults.  For me, this is a self-preservation thing.  I no longer want him in my life because he has proven time and time again that he is only ever thinking of himself.  She tried to convince me to “just ignore him”, but why should I set myself up for stress and frustration? Why should I allow myself to be put into another abusive situation.  Mom and I agreed to disagree.  She is also an adult and can do as she wishes with her personal relationships.  If she wants to keep bringing him into her life, so be it, but I will not allow him to continue to damage mine.  He has been nothing but hateful towards my family and friends.  I don’t need that in my life.  To me, chosen family is often times much stronger and more valuable than “blood” family (at least when it comes to my dad and his bitch of a sister).  There is no expectation to stick around through abuse and disrespect, but for whatever reason, there is with “blood” relatives.  I don’t accept that.  If you are hurtful to me and the people/things I care about, you are out of my life. I will not be bullied back into that relationship because now I do know better and I do have a choice.


I’m THAT asshole

Yes, I hate him. But I hate myself more for what I allow him to bring out in me.

I had it out with G today. I lost my shit and screamed at him (literally. At the top of my lungs). I told him how much I hated him and how he is just like his sister. I told him to fuck off more times than I care to admit.  I told him I wished his plane crashed.  I told him I wished he’d step in front of a truck… that was over 6 hours ago. The only thing I feel bad about is that I allow him to get me so angry. If it were still up to me, I would not have any contact with him at all. He would still be banished from my world, but because we moved in with mom and she allows him to stay here sometimes, I have to see him. I really do hate him. I really am sick of his shit. Maybe I don’t wish him dead, but I wish to never see him again. Maybe he’ll get the hint and stop trying to talk to me now ever again (mind you his sister still tries despite years of ignoring or cursing out, so he may not give up either, but a girl can hope)…
Anyway, I’m glad he’s gone.  He’s staying at a hotel tonight and will leave to the airport from there. Good riddance.
But back to that part about hating myself: I hate that I give him so much power over me.  The speeches to myself after the fight involved a shit-ton of arguing with the voice in my head that said I needed to cut or be reckless. I kept reminding myself that he is not worth the consequences to those actions no matter how much relief I think they may bring in the moment. It took a lot of back and forth with my head, but I had read De’s note earlier in the day, and kept reciting it to myself
image
(Last session, we had also talked about the negative voices.  She put down on a sticky that I am worth arguing with those voices. Even if I don’t believe it myself, I know L had said it before, and now De wrote it down for me.  I owe it to them to at least make an attempt to listen)…

Today’s blow-out with G also really scared mom and L… I feel bad.  I never wanted to be that person. Turns out, I am that person more times than not.  I scare them with my anger.  I scare people with my depression. I just scare people.  And I hate that. I’m sorry. Like I said, that’s the last person I wanted to be… :sigh: I have a lot of growing and working to do. I will still forever hate G and his bullshit meddling, but I need to not let myself get out of control in response to him (or anyone else).


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….


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?


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.


Sudden switches (triggering)

I really cannot tell you what happened tonight,  but the switch was instant.  I was putting dishes away,  and suddenly the kitchen knives begged to be used.  I wanted to take them all and stab myself.  I wanted to feel them go all the way through my arm,  like the scene in Stigmata… and then I wanted to smash all the dishes.  My wife was there,  so I asked her to put the sharp knives away.

I don’t know what changed.  I know I’ve been feeling like crying for no apparent reason even though it was a good day.  I told my therapist that when I saw him.  I wasn’t connecting to any emotion at that point though.
I collaged tonight,  and they were actually positive pieces:

image
image

Then I went to do the dishes so L could make dinner.  That’s when something just changed.  I went from that positive feeling to bat-shit crazy (sudden anger and a need to break things,  especially myself) in an instant.

The resulting collages were a bit darker: (I wish I could put them next to each other. It’s a 2-page spread)

image
image

I hate when that happens.  It’s like my brain is unable to handle happy,  so it whips me back to crazy (I skip right over depressed at times like these). I just don’t understand it… I don’t like it.