Tag Archives: kindness

found some comfort

So, TM doesn’t hate me.

She doesn’t think I’m a worthless, annoying, frustrating piece of shit.

I didn’t piss her off by calling for support the other day.

She returned my call and even said I could call her back to talk.

She was patient and kind and reassuring when I did. It was during her lunch, but she didn’t rush me.

She reminded me that there’s only a few days left anyway. Either I will be all set for the move or I won’t be, but it won’t be the end of the world.

She’s all for me going out with my friend tonight for one last trivia night. Her enthusiasm over that made it much easier to tell my friend I’ll be there.

She didn’t say much of anything particularly inspiring or profound, but she managed to say what I needed to hear: that she know’s I’m struggling with this; it’s ok that I’m struggling with it; and it will all be ok soon (for whatever reason, it sinks in when she says it, but it feels merely obligatory when L says it…).

 

Dr. C does not hate me either.

She doesn’t think I’m a worthless, annoying, frustrating piece of shit.

She scheduled an appointment with me for after the move despite me being so needy before even officially returning to her.

She has seen me at my worst, and is still willing to take me back as a client.

 

I get to hang out with M&B tonight.

M & I have known each other forever, and she still likes me.

B likes me by default I think… at least, he puts up with me.

I’m really gonna miss them when I go, but tonight we will kick ass on trivia.

Some friends will be there forever; M is one. I’m really lucky to call her a friend ❤

 

L will be here in less than 4 days!

I will physically see my wife again for the first time in 7 months!!!! 😀

I don’t know who will be happier: me, the kids, or L… I think maybe the kids, b/c there’s 4 of them, and they have not see her at all since she left last May. They get super-excited when someone returns from getting the mail, and that takes less than a minute. I’m sure they will not know how to contain themselves when L arrives.

 

 

 


Friday

I’m not quite sure what happened in session with De on Friday. She talked a lot. I colored a drawing I had done in my Wreck This Journal. I know she recognized something was up because at the end of session she asked what kind of space I was in. She wanted to know if I was more or less triggered than the beginning. I really didn’t figure out I was spacing until she asked about it. She wanted to see what I was coloring, and I didn’t want to show her at that moment. I rarely have issues showing her what I’m doing, but I guess I didn’t want to let her in right then. It was too raw, too close to the moment, too vulnerable. It was the only time she has ever leaned in without permission and I recoiled when she did that. She sat back and changed the topic. I changed what I was coloring. She then asked if she could see it later on, but I wasn’t sure.  After session, I wish she had asked to see it again. I would have shown her (I was removed enough from it by that time). I don’t really remember what else we talked about though (she talked about, I colored quietly for the most part I think. I don’t remember talking much). I think she validated my statement that I was in a weird space all week.  I think she was trying to have me be ok with it. I kinda wish she had asked more and talked less. I think I might have gotten someplace with stuff if she did that. I think she asked if I had made space to cry, but when I said no, she just launched into it being an important release and that I should try to make space for it. She acknowledged that it was difficult to do at home, blah, blah, blah… if she had left silence and space in session, I probably would have gotten around to it there, but it didn’t happen.
She talked more. I know there were points where I slowed in my coloring, and I just started doing very small lines of color, very controlled, but I don’t remember what she was talking at me about at that moment. I just made mental note that my coloring style changed. I don’t think she paused, though she might have asked me questions then, I really don’t remember. I guess I was pretty checked-out. I think this is the first time I regretted coloring during session. It was easier to check out, and she didn’t figure out what it was that I needed to talk about (I certainly have no memory of it now). I know there were a few points where I just couldn’t say anything because the only words that made it remotely close to my mouth were nowhere near the meaning I was looking for, so I didn’t say them. I wanted to, but the words were all wrong for my meaning. I think we had been talking about being kind to myself and my body. I wanted to tell her that my concept and her concept of being kind are very different, but I didn’t know how to explain that. I couldn’t bring voice to the idea that hurt is kindness in my messed up little brain. Cutting is kindness. Being put into uncomfortable situations is kindness. Being forced into things is kindness. Pain is kindness. I didn’t know how to explain that, in that very moment, as much as I should know better, I couldn’t see beyond that line of thinking. I didn’t think I could handle her challenges to it at the time, so I stayed quiet. I tried to voice it a few times, but silence prevailed and all I could repeat was mumbled, half-uttered “I don’t know.” She continued talking on at me for most of the session. I know she had asked something about small steps towards something or other, but again, I’m not really sure what she was talking about. I knew at the time in that I understood her words, but I didn’t retain it past nodding at what she had said. There was also something about not necessarily getting to everything in the time we have left working together, but that we could at least get to something. Again, I didn’t retain what that something was.

It’s so frustrating not to remember. It happens more often then not again. It frustrates everyone around me, not only myself…

I think she also tried to point out the progress I had made, but I disagreed with her assessment. She said I’m better at communicating a lot more to her through writing. She said we got through a bunch of stuff, and she said my coping is much better than it had been when I first started seeing her. I know I was in a really bad space at the time, but I don’t see my progress in such leaps and bounds. I think it’s because I know I’ve pulled back into myself a lot including with her. My walls are up for everything and everyone. The thinking hasn’t really changed, but my presentation has. A huge fear of external consequences coupled with a lack of available help has me stuffing a lot. I guess I use art a ton more lately, so I guess that’s progress. But it doesn’t feel that big inside. It feels like I’m holding my breath with everything because I have to. Care down here sucks. Networking help sucks. There’s no additional support, so my survival instinct has kicked in. Falling apart is not an option unless I’m ok with falling completely to pieces and losing all hope of freedom or any right to have a say in my treatment. Fear and having no choice but to do stuff on my own forces that old thinking to kick in again. I can’t rely on anyone but myself. I guess that’s a good thing…

I really want to do some more graphic art, but I’m afraid it would be a trigger rather than a release at this time. So I’m sticking to tame subjects. And I’m just sitting here staring at the page with no results. Maybe tomorrow I can collage or something to get some of this out. It’s there under the surface. It has been for a few weeks, but I have not been able to safely look at it and get it onto paper.

I really wish we would have talked about that drawing this week. I know she is not a mind reader, but at the same time I didn’t know how to ask her to talk about it. I didn’t know how to start, or what to say, or even how to ask her to ask about it and push the subject. Sometimes it sucks when therapists take the safe road and avoid pushing the things we try to avoid (at least outwardly). I get the concept of meeting clients where they are at, and letting them direct how much they reveal or what they talk about, but sometimes I need a push because I’ll tiptoe around things to keep from making others uncomfortable, or out of embarrassment and trepidation… I wish I didn’t have to wait again until Friday. It’s so damn far away. And the weeks are creeping by.


escaping the asylum mentality – Rufus May

Interesting.

recovery network: Toronto

In an article in Occupied Times Rufus May announces his plans to leave the NHS [National Health Service] in  UK where he attempted, for  eighteen years working as a clinical psychologist to bring change to services from the inside – by “infiltrating with  loving kindness”. In that time, he says he has seen many pockets of change for the good but does not see that things have gotten better overall.

Rufus is now chooing to work “promoting more emancipatory approaches”.

These days the asylum is less noticeable as bricks and mortar establishments on the edge of town than it is recognizable as shared mentality of attitudes and fears, of forms of segregation and control, that range from the subtle and invisible to the often heavy-handed use of medications.

Rufus outlines some of his ideas for what we will need to change beyond simply changing mental health systems if we are…

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feeling so defeated…

ever have those times?… It just doesn’t feel like I can make forward strides at this moment… One thing goes really well, and 3 things fall apart… I just don’t know how to change it. I’m only going backwards. It sucks.

I got a call back from one of the clinicians to set me up in their system… turns out that the only clinician that is part of the non-profit piece is a guy… I have trouble enough talking to a female therapist, forget about trying to talk to a guy… The lady that called me back was really nice tho, and she gave me a ton of other options… I totally appreciate that she called back 3 times with different ideas… I just wish I had money so it wouldn’t matter… but I have no job, and even if anyone is calling me back at the moment, my phone is shut off because we didn’t have the cash for the bill… I’m using my mom’s phone to try to find someone to see… All the places I applied to work have my phone number, not hers… This sucks. I just want to ball up and cry and hide from the world. I’m trying so hard not to crack under all this pressure, but I don’t know how well I can keep that up… When I got off the phone with her the first time, my legs ached with the memory of a cut… those aches have just been getting stronger. The part of me that wants to give in is screaming so loud right now…