I recently read an article about being a victim and the power attached to it and it made me question my need to explore the past again. Do I really need to work through it? Is this a crutch or an excuse to not move forward in my life?
After spending a couple of days thinking it through, I don't think it is. The last time I explored my childhood in therapy was 10 years ago. The therapist I had at the time told me I need to get over it. To not think about it or dwell on it. To live in the here and now. Most of the time I do. Sometimes the amount of energy it takes to push it down is overwhelming. I believe I have to release this energy somehow. I feel great sadness much of the time. Lately it leaks out of me at the worst of times. I am just not able to hide it anymore.
I will be seeing a new therapist who has been trained in trauma release. I don't have to get into the nitty gritty details. I just need to get the tools I need to work through the scars and turn them into lessons. That what happened to me was not because of who I am as a person. I try to stop the stories in my head. I recognize them a lot more often. I had a good day today. The kids were home from school and we all went out together to run some errands and have a little ice cream treat. I did some more work in the garden and did a little cleaning around the house. I did not obsess (much) over numbers in my accounts or how long I will have to wait for the insurance payments to start up again.
It was a light day and I am grateful for that.
Friday, April 24, 2015
Tuesday, April 21, 2015
Oops, not done yet... Brain Dump Part 2
Just received a call from my psychiatrist.
She would like to see my husband and I together as he is also struggling with some anxiety because of health issues. She would like permission to be able to openly talk to both of us about each others' treatment. Not sure I am okay with that.
She also wanted to know why I didn't call her about being off work again and that she wouldn't have known if my husband hadn't told her. I left work on Thursday afternoon, my husband told her during his appointment on Friday. I assumed it would be noted in my file as she is in the same clinic as my physician. I have an appointment booked with her in a couple of weeks. Yes I took the easy way out. I don't feel she supports me being off work and I was reluctant to deal with that. I knew my first day back that I was still struggling and I told her that during our appointment. It had only been 3 days but I broke down in her office and she recommended seeing someone to deal with my childhood trauma. 4 days later, my manager was expressing her concern about me being back at work. Some of my co-workers told her they were worried about me. I saw the physician replacing my family doctor while he is away and she after reviewing his notes, fully supports me taking more time.
My knee-jerk reaction is to not see her anymore. I find myself questioning everything. Am I really this crazy? Am I just not being strong enough? Should I be able to do it all? Is this just because I don't want to be at work? Should I be revisiting my childhood and processing that or am I just putting myself through pain I need to get over. Everything gets blurry.
She would like to see my husband and I together as he is also struggling with some anxiety because of health issues. She would like permission to be able to openly talk to both of us about each others' treatment. Not sure I am okay with that.
She also wanted to know why I didn't call her about being off work again and that she wouldn't have known if my husband hadn't told her. I left work on Thursday afternoon, my husband told her during his appointment on Friday. I assumed it would be noted in my file as she is in the same clinic as my physician. I have an appointment booked with her in a couple of weeks. Yes I took the easy way out. I don't feel she supports me being off work and I was reluctant to deal with that. I knew my first day back that I was still struggling and I told her that during our appointment. It had only been 3 days but I broke down in her office and she recommended seeing someone to deal with my childhood trauma. 4 days later, my manager was expressing her concern about me being back at work. Some of my co-workers told her they were worried about me. I saw the physician replacing my family doctor while he is away and she after reviewing his notes, fully supports me taking more time.
My knee-jerk reaction is to not see her anymore. I find myself questioning everything. Am I really this crazy? Am I just not being strong enough? Should I be able to do it all? Is this just because I don't want to be at work? Should I be revisiting my childhood and processing that or am I just putting myself through pain I need to get over. Everything gets blurry.
Brain dump.
Today I just need to unload my brain. This is my brain dump. Please don't comment with thought corrections. I know intellectually that a lot of the things I say don't make sense. I have to speak my heart and that is a very confusing place.
First I have to put on some music.
Being crazy sucks. Yes, crazy. Mental illness just seems like too neat and clean a label for what goes on in my head. I take everything personally. Some of the most innocent actions cut me so deep.
I am an addict, but I don't drink or use drugs. I do sometimes take something to help me sleep when the melatonin doesn't help. Prescribed, not illicit. I am afraid that using drugs, even once, as a crutch will be something I cannot control. Medical marijuana sounds like heaven, but I can not go there.
My weight is at a dangerous level. I have never been this big. I need to change to survive, but I don't care enough to change. I try to guilt myself and tell myself to think about the kids, my husband. I care about them but I guess not enough to change.
I am not one for self-harm. When I was younger I would punch myself when my anger was threatening to spill over and I wanted to break something. We were not allowed to be angry. I have punched walls many times, broken many a phone. Yesterday I cracked and hit myself again. I am paying for it today.
I have decided that I need to be willing to face judgement from others in order to overcome. I have to be vulnerable. That is my new buzzword. No more pretty smiling face. Its there, and I love to smile, but I wear that happy mask when I need to show the broken me. If I spend too long with the same therapist, I start acting better. That way they won't get tired of me and I don't want to hurt their feelings by them thinking that they aren't helping me. I will be seeing a new therapist next week. I have seen so many. I lie to most of them and use them to take the edge off my life.
I had a bad experience with a therapist. I was feeling a breakthrough and allowed myself to fully cry in front of her. I was asked when I would be finished my pity party. I was not allowed to talk about my past, we had to focus on the here and now. I have never fully processed my childhood. I am missing most of grades 2, 3, 4 and 5. I can remember grade 1 quite clearly. I can close my eyes and remember the layout of my classroom, my teacher. I have a brief memory of the 2nd half of grade 3, but 4 and 5 are blank. The teachers' names don't even ring any bells. That therapy experience fed my need to hide and conceal.
I will talk about parenting through this at another time. My children are amazing, healthy, supported and loved.
I spent the first 8 years of my life thinking my grandfather was my secret boyfriend. I never knew anything else. For years after I moved away, he would call and ask if he was still my boyfriend. My stomach still turns. I moved away and in with other family members. The abuse continued with a new abuser. It was different. He was rough and "no" wasn't an option. He took it further than my grandfather ever did. He tried again when I was 16. I pressed charges as an adult and he plead guilty in court. He still denies it to family. There are others, but none as extreme as the two above.
I came clean about him to my family at the age of 16. My step-father didn't seem shocked. In fact, he turned to me and said "who else". As I write this I wonder if he already knew, and if he did, how did he know. I will have to explore that. When I told my mother, she didn't react well. There was no calm conversation. It felt like nothing but guilt and blame. To this day, I wonder how she didn't know.
And now the shut down. Pressure valve released. On with my day.
First I have to put on some music.
Being crazy sucks. Yes, crazy. Mental illness just seems like too neat and clean a label for what goes on in my head. I take everything personally. Some of the most innocent actions cut me so deep.
I am an addict, but I don't drink or use drugs. I do sometimes take something to help me sleep when the melatonin doesn't help. Prescribed, not illicit. I am afraid that using drugs, even once, as a crutch will be something I cannot control. Medical marijuana sounds like heaven, but I can not go there.
My weight is at a dangerous level. I have never been this big. I need to change to survive, but I don't care enough to change. I try to guilt myself and tell myself to think about the kids, my husband. I care about them but I guess not enough to change.
I am not one for self-harm. When I was younger I would punch myself when my anger was threatening to spill over and I wanted to break something. We were not allowed to be angry. I have punched walls many times, broken many a phone. Yesterday I cracked and hit myself again. I am paying for it today.
I have decided that I need to be willing to face judgement from others in order to overcome. I have to be vulnerable. That is my new buzzword. No more pretty smiling face. Its there, and I love to smile, but I wear that happy mask when I need to show the broken me. If I spend too long with the same therapist, I start acting better. That way they won't get tired of me and I don't want to hurt their feelings by them thinking that they aren't helping me. I will be seeing a new therapist next week. I have seen so many. I lie to most of them and use them to take the edge off my life.
I had a bad experience with a therapist. I was feeling a breakthrough and allowed myself to fully cry in front of her. I was asked when I would be finished my pity party. I was not allowed to talk about my past, we had to focus on the here and now. I have never fully processed my childhood. I am missing most of grades 2, 3, 4 and 5. I can remember grade 1 quite clearly. I can close my eyes and remember the layout of my classroom, my teacher. I have a brief memory of the 2nd half of grade 3, but 4 and 5 are blank. The teachers' names don't even ring any bells. That therapy experience fed my need to hide and conceal.
I will talk about parenting through this at another time. My children are amazing, healthy, supported and loved.
I spent the first 8 years of my life thinking my grandfather was my secret boyfriend. I never knew anything else. For years after I moved away, he would call and ask if he was still my boyfriend. My stomach still turns. I moved away and in with other family members. The abuse continued with a new abuser. It was different. He was rough and "no" wasn't an option. He took it further than my grandfather ever did. He tried again when I was 16. I pressed charges as an adult and he plead guilty in court. He still denies it to family. There are others, but none as extreme as the two above.
I came clean about him to my family at the age of 16. My step-father didn't seem shocked. In fact, he turned to me and said "who else". As I write this I wonder if he already knew, and if he did, how did he know. I will have to explore that. When I told my mother, she didn't react well. There was no calm conversation. It felt like nothing but guilt and blame. To this day, I wonder how she didn't know.
And now the shut down. Pressure valve released. On with my day.
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