Therapy isn’t going well at present

So just recently, my therapist (actually a psychologist) asked me about dissociation. This was in the context of me having had a bad weekend that I shared with him, and there was a moment where I dissociated, and thus told him about that.

He asked about dissociation so I told him using the easiest method I have. I mentioned some elementary school abuse story. Okay, I should have thought that through farther or something. But I didn’t and here I am. That was last week, I think. I don’t know. You guys would know better than me because I got into a not-quite-okay mode and posted here a lot. I even sketched a comic! I saw him twice that week because there was too much to possibly say because it lead into other things, like a time period I haven’t written about here although have alluded to several times.

Meanwhile, this psychologist stops me and says if I say any more about elementary school, he’s going to have to report it. But days later, he’s able to check with his ethics officer and for reasons I won’t share here, he doesn’t have to. If he had done so, it would have been the end of the world. I can’t share why on here. But without even the strength to put the true emotion into these words, MY world would have ended and so would several others’.

So then I feel safer again, and I share some things to him via email. Not too much, for me, but I hadn’t ever shared w/him outside of the office before, so it probably seemed like a lot.

Now to my point. Today, we had an appointment. I was so ill-feeling this morning (nerves because I didn’t know what to expect), I ended up taking anti-anxiety medicine earlier in the day. So, granted I was still on some amount of medicine by the time our appointment came around (it’s half-life is fairly short so it wasn’t a full dose). So it’s possible the medicine was interfering with any sort of ability of me to feel connected.

But it was weird. Kind of like nothing had ever come up? Well, but he did ask if I wanted to talk about anything? I don’t know. I don’t really know what happened. The whole appointment went by and I left and I’m wondering if it was productive in any way whatsoever. I can’t be wasting money like that. He did say that next appointment, I could talk about whatever I’d like. I asked if it would be helpful or harmful to talk about that shit. He thought perhaps it would be helpful.

So in that case — is that I checked with him several times to see if I could have permission via email to share things with him during this time. For example, any sketches or poems, that sometimes help me to try and explain something I can’t vocalize. He said that was fine to bring to him in-person, but he doesn’t want it being sent to him in other ways. He wants everything to be face-to-face. He gave more reasons for why face-to-face is superior but I don’t recall because I was busy talking to myself internally (well, it’s true. I was talking to myself mentally about how important it was for me to be able to share during the week, since I historically chicken-out the day of appointments and know I wouldn’t bring in anything). I did say that out loud — that I would probably be too shy to bring any in. I think I said it out loud, anyway. It’s all kind of a blur.

Anyway. This is all very unsettling for me because next week is my last week around before I’m gone for a while. Then he’s going to be gone for a while. So basically, why go to next week’s appointment? I should cancel that appointment. But maybe I only say that out of bitterness. Maybe it could be productive in some other way?

But I feel like he just doesn’t get it. The can of worms is already cracked open. Maybe he’s trying to put a lid on it. Maybe I’m trying to open it all the way, but that’s a long, long road to go back down.

There IS a desire in me to open the can of worms. I feel like, there is a piece of my life that I still haven’t threaded together into a cohesive narrative. I feel like I’m more ready now than I ever have been before, and I like to know what’s happened in my life and why and how I grew because of it. I ain’t talking about elementary school; that is black and white, easy to understand.

That part of me, that wants to open the can of worms, is really disappointed in this appointment. I know now that I had wanted an excuse for a muse. I had wanted him to inquire and be curious and try to learn more. I had wanted a reason to get out pencil and paper and sketch and revisit papers on that time period and thread together a cohesive understanding. But it’s a dangerous, time-consuming process and, knowing myself, I would need extra support in the meanwhile. I WOULD become clingy and desperate at times; I WOULD probably ask to come in twice a week instead of once at times. I might be weird as I dig through some dirt. But I feel like, in less than a month’s time, I’d have the understanding I so desire.

The one perk of waiting is that the VAST MAJORITY of my writings and drawings on this topic and FROM this time period and directly after are at my parents’ house. Perhaps I could gather those documents within the next year and have them ready. Perhaps I could go to an actual trauma specialist this time and do this once and for all.

That’s all well and good, but with this can of worms cracked, it’s difficult to turn my mind to other things, like homework. I made myself exercise A LOT this weekend, yesterday, and today. I think it helped prevent me from nose-diving straight into a terrible depression. Instead, I just feel kind of … unsupported and scared and like, I must have made a terrible mistake. Embarrassed, I guess. But that latter part is likely because I perceived no feedback from psychologist today. BUT, as I’ve already said, that is either because I was on anti-anxiety medicine and perhaps numbed my ability to sense connection, or perhaps he was staying withdrawn on purpose because my emails and sharing of that sketch scared the shit out of him and he took it literally like I was already clung to his leg or something. He didn’t make any comment about that sketch, btw. That probably made me very sad since I drew that to share with him something I experience.

Ah well, you know? Maybe he doesn’t know what the hell he’s doing. I always assume these psych people know what the hell they’re doing but what if they don’t. Or what if he does, and it was my exact contact during the week that caused today’s appointment to be non-existent…or the anti-anxiety drugs.. LOOP! 🙂

Comic: Not this process again (Comic#050)

Reverting from adult to child

Reversion

Hmm. I can’t figure out how to make this image click-able so you can see it blown up to full size (older pics of mine are still click-able). Perhaps it’s the theme I’m using. Maybe I’ll try switching to a different theme.
*UPDATE*: I fixed it! I had already tried two new themes before discovering what was different about this one compared with older ones that worked as links. I’m staying with a new, more open-feeling theme anyway.

When people argue; Panic

It’s incredible the flood of anxiety I feel when people begin to argue.

These two people do not shout. These two people do not throw things. These two people do not hurt animals. These two people do not give each other the silent treatment later or love each other any less tomorrow.

But they do get intense with their voices. One of them is forceful and the voice raises, not in volume but in pitch. The other gets forceful and uses “YOU” statements that I find very rude. “YOU” are not listening. “YOU” have switched what you are arguing.

These arguments always end peacefully and they love each other the same immediately after. For them, the effects are null. They argue. They debate. It’s part of what they do. Frankly, I would go so far as to say it is part of who they are as people.

But for me, the effects are longer lasting. I will be afraid of them for days. It was not directed at me; nobody is arguing or debating with me. I have already put in my noise-isolating headphones and escaped up the stairs. I have already blared music directly into my earbuds.

But the flooding of anxiety is so strong and so immediate. It’s an emergency for me, when two people argue. It is danger. It is red alert. It is unpredictable and unsafe.

They will not hurt me. The worst either of them could do to me, based on who they are and what I have seen, is to use an insulting tone of voice and say “YOU” don’t understand what I am trying to say. Or something like that. That’s the worst I’ve seen or heard from them.

But my body goes straight to fear. My body says, the monsters have surrounded me. I am prepared to run. I am prepared to hide. I am prepared to face the streets in the dark at night amongst strangers. I am prepared to kill to protect myself.

My intestines prepare to evacuate immediately. I need to run. Outdoors. I need to be one speck in an infinite darkness, alone. Unknown. Safer.

Instead, I am trying to prep for bed. I brushed my teeth. I’m listening to my music, blaring into my ears. I can hear the voices. They are calm but still firm. It’s only a difference of opinion and grilling over various scientific studies to prove one side or the other. My shoes and coat were already on (because me and one of them were about to go on a very short walk). I am ready; I want to run. I could take anxiety medicine that will help me sleep. It’s been 30 minutes, right? I could take off my shoes and coat without offending. … Or I could slip past and go on a jog into the darkness.

A title for an evening

Hello all,
(It is amazing that anyone is still there reading this, considering how long I go between posts lately.)

Last semester, I was actually doing fabulously. Have I mentioned that? I was pretty emotionally stable. I stayed up with my classes. I enjoy tutoring.

I’m in summer now, and things are different. It’s decision time. I told you about that already. But the not-knowing for sure what I’m about to do once summer ends is weighing heavily on me and affecting my sleep (LACK of sleep, be sure). I’m having to take clonazepam more frequently than is my norm, just to get some sleep each week (that’s the drug I’m prescribed for night because it helps my restless leg syndrome as well as helping with the anxiety AS WELL as having a happy side effect of some drowsiness). So it’s my miracle night drug, but I try not to take it more than a couple of times per week, since I don’t want to get addicted or have it become less effective.

I’m grateful I have it available. I can’t imagine getting through times like these without it, really. Before I finally searched around through all of my belongings to find my bottle of it, I had gotten sleep-deprived enough that I was getting seriously loopy and forgetting things like crazy and crossing over what I dreamed and what happened in reality. If you get that sleep-deprived, you know what I’m describing.

I’m taking C++ this semester, because the Accounting choices were slim pickings for summer (I’d already taken all of the ones offered!). I am LOVING C++. It concerns me. What happens if I end up wanting to switch majors?!?! I am really loving it. But I’m also loving being an Accounting tutor. The trouble is, I don’t actually have any interest in Accounting topics themselves — I couldn’t care less about tax laws or auditing. I’m going to have to learn all of those things. And I know I can do it, once I re-align my goals again.

But I’m actually INTERESTED in this computer programming. If I could program, there is SO much I could do. Years ago, I started drawing out diagrams for apps and stuff I wanted to hire someone to make for me and sell! So now that I’ve had a taste and can dream that one day *I* could write my *own* programs??? I have a lot of interest in that. But it would mean starting over and having wasted a whole year! (Well, not wasted as far as learning SO MUCH about myself — like that I’m capable of being a successful student (that wasn’t the case previously) — and capable of tutoring!! (I’d have NEVER guessed!) — and I took a jogging class, piano, and so much more. But it was a wasted year as far as income. My tutoring income doesn’t even cover half of the rent per month. I’m not joking. My savings is going poof too rapidly. [Besides, end goal is to work for animal rescue. I KNOW I could do that via accounting. Could I do that via computer programming? I have some vague ideas, but don’t know that one with enough certainty to bet on it.]

I haven’t even paid for my pony’s board this month. My friend hasn’t mentioned it — she knows what’s up — but it weighs on me. I want to gift her to my friend but her husband would go nuts if she legally owned another horse. So we’re in this weird limbo right now and don’t know where it’s headed.

I gave someone a dollar today. It was for an interesting scenario. But she said there is a special angel in heaven waiting for me and gave me a hug. She had a really cute 1.5 year old dog who was very happy.

I’ve needed to write here. I wish I would focus myself to do this every day. It helps. But I basically have only enough focus for school and the tutoring. I allow EVERYTHING else to drop off of the planet. I even missed an appointment with my psychiatrist. I didn’t mean to but she’d confirmed in email and I MEANT to reply again and I MEANT to write it on my calendar but just never got around to it. It went into the pile with the other thousands of emails I haven’t responded to over the decade+.

I’m homesick. I’m REALLY homesick. I. Want. To. Be. Home. Right now. This week. This month. It probably happened when my world here went into a limbo mode (don’t know what I’m doing next semester). But I want my old life back — the one before I was married. I want to live with my parents and brush my dog and trim his nails and drive out to see my pony and train her and groom her. I want to smell her on my clothes and carseat and have to take allergy medicine and the whole deal. I miss my life.

Breaking up with my boyfriend and moving out of this house would almost be worth it if I could live in a place where I could foster animals. I don’t want to WAIT for my life to start; I want to start it tomorrow. I want to be helping animals right now.

The animal shelters around here have zillions of volunteers. That’s what you get in a city, I guess. I would sign up but I honestly feel like they have endless volunteers and I wouldn’t be in my niche. There is an emergency vet nearby. I’m considering going and asking if they have any use for an intern or volunteer or something. I’d be fine just cleaning cages of animal waste or whatever behind-the-scenes thing I could do. I just don’t want to be one who has to tell an owner that we had to euthanize their pet. I’m not ready for that yet.

I have to go now. Goodnight.

Immediate update

Things seem better already, just having gone through the previous realization of the “manic music phase” trigger and also sharing all of my thoughts of the past week with my bf just now, verbally. He was relieved because all he knew for sure was that I was super closed down all week and not communicating and he didn’t know what in the world was going on. We’re talking again. I’m feeling a lot better knowing it was the guitar trigger and considering ways of dealing with that more directly. I am going to try a school counselor on Monday and see how that is. Goodnight, all.

Pure and utter shit

Damn. So following my last post, things were smooth. I mean, several days in a row were smooooth. I almost made myself post about them. Things were going so nicely. I love my new job. I’m staying caught up in one class.

Then boom. Sickness hits. It’s just a minor head cold. The sore throat (my trigger) passed within 24-ish hours, so very little panic and whatnot. Sniffles, no biggie. Cough, no chest pain. Post-nasal-drip during the night for several nights in a row, so hardly any sleep, terrible but survivable. Then I picked up some cold medicine and it let me sleep through the night for two nights, pretty much. I haven’t needed to use it again since then because although the cough & nose are still productive, it’s not that bad.

Slipping. I’m slipping. Emotionally. This other class happened last Saturday and again today. The time inbetween has … okay not been the best. This class has assigned papers and too many for a one-week period (I did… um 2. The short ones. The rest, are now officially overdue). Okay that could certainly be a trigger. My bf tried to tell me this but I refused to listen (i.e. I thought he was wrong and wasn’t listening to ME because I kept saying it’s just this damn cold and once I feel better, I’ll be on top of my stuff again). No, I should have listened. It’s was a big, motherfucker trigger.

So now? My energy has been leaving more and more every day. It’s this goddamn virus, I swear it is. I checked last night too — I took anti-anxiety medicine just in case that would clear things up and I’d be able to focus on the paper. But no, it didn’t help.

Mono. If any of you have had mono before, that is how I’ve been feeling lately. Like I have the energy level I had back when I had mono. In other words, capable of going about some zombie resemblance of a day and then CRASH. NOTHING left. NO words, NO thought, NO movement. I felt like my body was dying.

But it wasn’t truly until today that shit is hitting. It is hitting me. I don’t know what the fuck is wrong, altogether. I walked myself to the ER tonight. I didn’t check in; I just paced in the ER for maybe twenty minutes. I texted with “Joe” from last year. I feel like he’s the only one in my life who is capable of showing sympathy/empathy in the way that I can “feel” so I told him I was in a really bad spot and he listened and asked me what had me so triggered, and that’s the first time I was thinking about it rationally. Like in the sense of triggers. Of course this class with assigned papers is a trigger. Of course the pressure to maintain my straight-A’s from last semester is too much for me. Of course the new job of tutoring and this guy who seems to have a crush on me (but I’ve made it very clear that I have a boyfriend and am not looking) and other students who come in and out and some of them I’m able to help confidently and others it is a real struggle but I am really enjoying that job.

But things with me and my bf are so rough right now. We’re not communicating well and it’s mostly me because I am making things weird and being really touchy. I don’t want advice about it, please — I wish to share what’s happening in my life, but please take it for what it is — I am just sharing — not seeking advice on my relationship. I need to get my head straight again.

I wanted to cut tonight. I don’t know what’s been up. My head is in and out of reality today, this virus, the fog in my brain, reality and dissociation. I was walking to the ER and I looked both ways to cross the street and let my mind ponder, because I had started to cross first without looking, I mean the hand sign was green and all that, but of course the small, old voice was there, telling me that if a truck just happened to be coming at me, that would be perfectly fine.

As if nothing matters? I knew something was going wrong this week because I stopped flossing my teeth four days ago. That only happens at the start of a a terrible depressed episode.

But I am determined that I am going to get my head on straight, get healed from this awful, energy-sucking virus, and go to a fucking therapist/counselor. I’m thinking of going to the free ones at school this week — I don’t know how good they are but I think it would help to get to talk with someone.

I hadn’t finished talking about how I’m affecting my relationship negatively — I’m so insecure this week, I am positive he is about to break up with me, against all signs. I can’t stand myself, so I’m assuming he can’t stand me and wants me gone. Or is about to want me gone and just doesn’t know about it yet. So I’m interpreting everything poorly, and looking scared this week, and he’s started to be weirded out by it. And I am fighting the urge at every moment to ask, “Do you still like me? Should I leave?” As if my life depends on him liking me? Of course it doesn’t, but it’s still eating at me this week, because of this insecurity and all of this SHIT that’s engulfing my head about me being a yuck person and blah blah blah. What the hell triggered this??? Was it something at work? Was it the terrible, terrible class that I’m now overdue in with several papers? Did it make me feel like a failure and I’m shifting that feeling into my personal life?

I walked back from the ER and the sky was still clear and the weather perfect. I came back in, bf said hi but was still watching some TV news with his mom, so I went out back and hung out on the back porch and chatted for a minute with a neighbor who is somewhere around my age. Mostly I just stared up at the sky and asked God[] to please let my breath be used by someone who is more stable than I. Someone more deserving. Then I did stop and wonder, am I feeling like I’m undeserving because I’m not emotionally stable? That it makes me less deserving of a human? That’s not very fair or nice. So I begged, Please empty out this shell of body and use it for something worth while.

It would be nice.