I think therefore I resist....

I am a person of reasonable intelligence. Some have said above average intelligence... I don't really know, there always seems to be people out there that are smarter... but my brain has certainly been a strong part of my identity and day to day functioning.

But is it getting in the way? Certainly, I have always known that I have a tendency to over-intellectualise issues as a way of calming the not so rational world of emotions. And in many ways, that's been a saving grace. I am able to rationalise away when people's actions hurt me, rather than acting out from a purely emotional stance, which enables me to save relationships. I am sometimes able to rationalise away unpleasant feelings or moods if they are making functioning in life difficult. It gives the distance needed to react in ways that are productive rather than destructive, ordered rather than disordered and chaotic, fair and rational rather than unfair and irrational. It's part of the grease on the wheels of civilisation, I feel. To act from the evolved, thinking part of the brain, rather than the animalistic instinctual parts, or the slightly more evolved, yet largely unconcious emotional parts of the brain.

But as an annoying American TV therapist would say..."How's that working for you?" Obviously not so well, (see multiple hospitalisations, bucket loads of medication, and three therapy sessions a week) There are things that can't be held in check by rationality and intellectualisation. I have to admit so much of what goes on in my mind has little to do with that small, evolved, intellectual part. And in order to deal with those uncontainable, unrationalisable little gremlins that are running about, I need to be able to talk about them in therapy in their native language... the language of emotions. I am book smart but my emotional intelligence is lacking, to be sure.

Obviously, this came up in therapy today. And maybe it does have a lot to do with why therapy has stalled a little or to reference my previous post become a little tedious. Because there isn't anywhere to go until I learn to speak from emotions. Ugh. I hate emotions. I often will sit there in session and think, I should be feeling something about this, and underneath it I am, I just often can't access it, or identify what it is. When (D) asks me "I wonder what you might be feeling right now?" and I say "I don't know" I am not being difficult, I just can't quite put my finger on it and name it. And then the one of the two basic feelings that I do see to be able to identify 'panic' and less often 'anger' flood in and override the more subtle emotions... sadness, despair, vulnerability, shame.... an endless list.

I seem to have gotten better at identifying the physical elements of the emotions and with (D)'s help linking them to a named emotion. Sadness sits around the jaw, tight and wound. Shame creates a bodily feeling of disconnection... a rejection of the physical self really. But still there is an inherent disconnect between the naming and basic somatic reactions and any deep understanding of what the emotion actually is.

Looking back at therapy sessions this evening, I have come to realise how much I employ intellectualisation as a defense mechanism. Arguing semantics, being pedantic as a form of deflection, looking for the flaw in each persuasive arguement my therapist makes, much as I used to try and tear apart the opposing teams position in High School debate. Not really caring so much about the position I am taking, but more about negating the position she takes. Deflect, deflect, deflect. Anything to keep her, and more importantly myself away from peering at the primal wounds. And so often I haven't even realised I am doing it.

But what do I do? How do I make myself drop this defence? Recognising it is a good first step, admitting it to (D) and allowing her to call me on it another good step. But beyond that... how do I speak this language I just don't understand? I don't know how to communicate these things. Even this blog post... entirely rational and intellectualised.

Let's give it a try... At the moment I feel... pretty tired (ok, so that's more physical)... hmm, a bit anxious... but my mind immediately jumped to rationalising that as the fact its late at night, which is the worst time for me so I generally feel a bit anxious at this time of night. Ok...why anxious? Nights are a time where I feel vulnerable, like I am open to attack, I feel quite childlike like a little kid terrified of the boogie man in the cupboard, 90% of you knows its not there, but the other 10% can't be that certain. Ashamed, because I am a grown woman who is still afraid of childish things like the dark and the monsters that inhabit it. Fearful... it always sits in the pit of my stomach until dawn breaks or I fall asleep. Sigh. I don't know. Is that the way you do it? Maybe typing them isn't the way to acknowledge the feelings. Maybe I would be best to just lie quietly and let them come, yep thats fear, that's what it feels like, now let it flow on and feel what comes next? Maybe thats one way to start learning this language in a way that's more about understanding then just knowing the words. Does that even make sense?

I am so confused right now... and I really don't know how to start chipping away through this so we can start doing the things we need to be doing in therapy.

Peace and love
xOphelia

Hurt and confused

So. It rears its head again. Borderline Personality Disorder. I was at an appointment with my GP on Tuesday, and we were looking for the latest letter from the PsychDoc. My GPs computer is set up so that the patient can actually see information as it is pulled up. I don't know why, and I'm kind of wishing now that it didn't. Anyway, she pulled a letter that turned out to be from last year when I was with BabyPsychDoc Douchebag, rather than the lovely Dr F that I see at the clinic now. And the top line stated (I'm not sure of it verbatim) basically that patient has diagnosis of PTSD and Borderline Personality Disorder (although patient has expressed discontent over the latter diagnosis). Sigh. Patient did not express 'discontent', patient was never actually formerly given the diagnosis, tested for the diagnosis or had it explained in any way. Patient only found out about the diagnosis attached to her name when she saw it in the hospital records whilst in a neurologist appointment. Patient tried to (rather calmly and rationally, I may add) ask for confirmation and justification of this new added diagnosis, only to be met with noone who would actually admit to being the one to put said diagnosis in her file!

That was last September. Although it pissed me off, I let it go, because a) it didn't seem to be impacting in anyway on my course of treatment (as stated before BabyPsychDoc at the time was a complete and utter douchbag for many reasons, a classic line of his was "you seem to be doing better, but its always hard to tell with 'you people' WTF? But I was changed to seeing the Consultant Psych, until the new registrar replaced him,  and she is really quite good) and b)to confront it to aggressively would be to affrim the stereotypes that surround the diagnosis...we wouldn't want a female patient who is actually proactive about her mental health treatment and advocates for herself now would we?

This time, I was pissed and I wanted to do something about it. First, this is now outside of hospital records and in my general medical records which follow me forever, having a chronic medical condition, I need to keep my medical records intact, and although current GP is lovely and it doesn't affect the way she treats me at all, there are others in the medical field who will stigmatise based on this diagnosis...thats just the sad truth of it. If I'm ever in a court case (God knows for what?) it can be supnoead (sp?) If I wanted to adopt etc etc...none of these are issues at the moment, but when you are thinking of something that follows you FOREVER. Second, it creates a distrust in the mental health system I'm supposed to derive support from. It is blatent dishonesty. What other diagnosis would it be acceptable to just sneak into somebody's records and NEVER discuss it with them. How am I supposed to trust what they say with such a fundamental omission in play. This is how it should be. Clinician sees signs and symptoms of a particular disorder, they test their hypothesis against the DSM and through testing. (I've never undergone any of the accepted tests for Borderline diagnosis ie Perry Borderline Personality Disorder Scale) and once they are supported in their diagnosis, they then (here's the important part) sit down with the patient, share their findings and opinions, explain the diagnosis and share the current treatment plan.

I'm not saying that I flat out refuse to accept such a diagnosis. I have issues with the diagnosis itself on conceptual grounds. 5 out of 9 criterion to meet the Disorder. Two people can share 1 symptom and be diagnosed with the same disorder. Statistically there are over 2000 variations of criterion combination that could justify a diagnosis. It just seems to be a very broad brushstroke to me. And any diagnosis that has a 75% female, 25% male split certainly has to be examined in the light of sociological context. That is, behaviour accepted as normal for men, being pathologised in females. Takes us right back to Ancient Greek times when women were thought to suffer from "wandering wombs". It is not at all a far reach to say the broadness of this diagnosis has led to it being used as a wastebin for "difficult" female patient who have the audacity not to respond to the righteous treatment of hubristic practioners, because of course it could not be that their treatment is actually inadequate. And the stigma that comes from such a diagnosis just serves to marginalise and suppress a population that quite often has already had a lengthy history of marginalisation and mistreatment, and should be treated with empathy and understanding. Does Borderline Personality Disorder exist? Most certainly. And it can debilitating for those who do classically fit the criteria. I read some fantastic blogs from people who have accepted this diagnosis, and find it to be helpful in explaining why they see and engage in the world the way they do. Does it automatically apply to anyone with an XX chromosome that self harms? According to the DSM it shouldn't..... but in reality it does.

So, jumping off my soapbox now. Because this is about me. Does it apply to me? My gut says no. After extensive reading, my mind says no. But I am reasonable and open to hearing the professionals opinions. If I can get them to talk to me. I spoke to my Case Manager (another lovely lady) this morning during our appointment and told her what I had seen, and let her know that I was going to bring it up at my appointment with Dr F on Tuesday, that I just wanted to get all of it out in the open, rather than it being dealt with in an underhanded way. I have no idea if it is the enduring opinion of the professionals or just the work of Dr Douchebag. I was just letting her know in case she wanted to be at the appointment, as she has been my Case Manager since the time of Dr Douchebag when this letter was written. She was quite supportive about it, without ever actually saying whether or not she agreed with the diagnosis. She is a psychologist and they can't actually diagnose here in Australia, and really I guess its probably not her place to speak for the team. I think she understood my frustration about the manner in which it was handled, although she did express how incredibly difficult it is to get something like that removed from one's record. I think she still felt it was important for me to find out once and for all, and to feel like there was a transparency in my treatment and not a me versus them thing going on. She also said that if it were her, given the implicit stigmas that can be attached to this particualr diagnosis she would want to ensure that it was thoroughly assessed and valid before it was attached to her file. So all in all, a positive response, and I am sure it will be the same with Dr F. Not necessarily that they will agree with me, but that they will at least be open and honest with me about it... and that's all I ask.

But then.

I went to therapy. (D) is a private psychologist, with no link to the public system. She asked what had been going on over the last few days, and I let her know, about my talk with (M) and the upcoming appointment with Dr F. Now, keep in mind, I didn't actually ask her whether she thought I had this disorder. Why? Well, first because she has stated before that she feels that there is overly too much emphasis on labels and that it takes away from the ability to truly 'see' the person. And second, because I didn't want to know. Seems a bit hypocritical, no? I want full disclosure from the Public Health professionals, but I don't want to know what my therapist thinks? And maybe it is. But her opinion is NOT written down in my records, she cannot officially diagnose me, so her opinion can't hurt me in that sense. But it can sure as hell hurt me in a more practical sense. Unfortunately, I guess by bringing up the conversation she assumed I wanted to know her opinion, and I did nothing to dissuade her from that assumption. Totally my fault. Well, 99% my fault. So she proceeded to give me her take. First, labels tend to be more of a distraction from seeing and understanding the person (see I do know her!), second that she has issues with Borderline Personality as a disorder, for similar reasons to what I mentioned above. But that she does believe that people can suffer from (and I'm paraphrasing) a disorder of their sense of self... I do love how she believes that semiotics make much of a difference at all. And apparantly, a good part of her studies, she focussed on Borderline Personality (a disorder she has issues with, so I'm a little confused) And she does think that some of the criterion I don't think I fulfill, I actually kind of do. For instance, abandoment issues. I certainly don't display the traditionally thought of "Borderline" behaviours around it... ie lack of Object Constancy etc... but that you can't have the experiences I did in infancy and childhood, and not have abandonment issues. She admitted she couldn't quote the DSM verbatim, and would have to have a look at it, and would be happy to bring it in and go through it with me. At this point, I had gotten pretty quiet.... and yes, a little hurt and upset. I told her that I didn't want her to bring it in, and in fact, I hadn't asked her opinion. At which point she stated "I'm a little confused", to which I replied "Me too".

So that's the sum of it. I think I would have been better not knowing her opinion. And now I'm kind of stuck between not wanting to know anymore and needing her to actually explain her position because I don't know if she thinks I have it or not, and now its the elephant in the room. And yeah, my feelings got hurt. But I also have to buck up and be prepared to face the truth, whatever that is, and part of that is being prepared to listen to others opinions. So i think I need to hear her out in full, and of course (M) and Dr F as well, and then test those opinions against my own. Afterall, logically, living with a mental illness, whatever it may be, can distort ones own perceptions and insight. It doesn't mean I have to just unreservedly accept others opionions, but, if they've shown themselves to be trustworthy, and they have taken the time to know me, and try to understand me, which all three of these women have, then I should at least listen.

So, for now, I'm left hurt and confused

Itty Bitty Tanties

Ok, so maybe I threw a little, eensy, weensy, tiny tantrum in therapy today. Highlights included telling her to back off, stop patronising me, screwing up my fists and lasping into a sulky, scowling silence for the last 15 minutes or so of the session. And yes, it probably is still a good thing therapeutically, working through transference issues and having the chance to experience and express (however clumsily) anger in the safe containment of the therapy room. But ultimately I'm left feeling like quite a prat, and am feeling quite embarrassed at the prospect of going back. And I maintain, for today at least, THERAPY SUCKS BALLS.

Had my PsychDoc appointment, and it went pretty well. We're going to put off the benzo withdrawal for a fortnight or so. With the current little slump I'm experiencing, its just better to wait until things stabilise a little. But then hopefully, we'll start a slow withdrawal process, and sometime (in the hopefully near future) I will be completely off the Serepax.

Other than that I'm just trying to focus on keeping a positive attitude. Its just a little slump and it will pass. It doesn't mean that things are spinning out of control. I will sleep again. And I will feel happy again. This too will pass.

Spoke to Case Manager (M) and she said to give her a call if things continue to be a bit down, otherwise I will see her next week. I guess a part of me just doesn't want to admit to them how low I am feeling, because I want to be able to handle it myself, there isn't really any particular problem that they can help address, and probably a little bit of pride as well.... I was doing so well, I hate that I wasn't able to keep it up.

Anyway, Lil Sis and I got some boxed sets...so we'll be watching Outrageous Fortunes, True Blood, and the first season of Glee for the forseeable future.

Peace and love
xOphelia

I've been thinking....

I have quite a few blogs that I read through Google reader. Some are other "mentals", some are more information based sites, humor sites etc etc. I love flipping open my laptop to see what awaits me in my Google reader each day, and there are a few blogs I get quite excited about when I see a new post in my tool bar. The blogs I read give me a number of different things... laughs, a feeling of "i'm not alone" and "oh, you too?", some inspire, some fill me with awe.... and recently, one in particular has been invoking a sense of "what the?"

Of course, its kind of a given in the Blogosphere that people write their own reality and sometimes that doesn't match up with ... let's say, reality reality. And people may tweak parts of their persona they are not happy with or are ashamed of. But what I really don't get are the people who out and out lie.

Especially about mental illness. Like its a badge of honor. A contest to see who can appear to be the most screwed up. Who has the absolute worst life. Newsflash. Mentalism is nothing to be ashamed of... but its certainly not a bowl of cherries, either. And why put so much effort into fabricating such an elaborate lie. Especially since, like most lies, it becomes more and more transparant as time grows on.

Certainly I tend to suspend my disbelief for the most part. Its a messed up world, and people certainly have unique histories and experiences, that I can barely fathom... but that doesn't make them any less real. This is the first time that my BS-meter has just sounded such loud alarms that I can no longer ignore the discomfort I feel reading this blog. I approach each knew post with a sense of trepidation and "what now?". I leave feeling insulted and patronised that this individual expects me to swallow the bollocks they are posting.

I guess its not restricted to the internetz. I have found myself simarly discombobulated when meeting people on the psych ward. ON THE PSYCH WARD! Why the hell would you take the charade of mental illness to the extent that you get yourself admitted, indeed actively seek admission, to a psych ward? It boggles my mind. But there have certainly been situations when I know, the other patients know, hell, the staff even knows these 'patients' are full of crap. Other patients certainly seem to be better than the staff at assessing who the 'fakers' are. But a person says the magic words "I'm suicidal" or "I hear voices", and they have to admit them. The first time at least. And for sure, often we can put on the most fabulous of fronts despite how crappy we feel. Certainly often the safety of the ward and the acceptance of the patient milleau is therapeutic and leads to positive lifts in the mood and symptoms of an individual. But don't tell me that you are barely sleeping at all because of your mania, when I walk past your room every night to hear your snores reverbrating down the corridor. When you miss every single breakfast because you are sleeping in. When you spend two hours talking perfectly normally and fluently to me, only to put on rapid speech and attempt to model disordered thoughts when a nurse sits and talks to you. You aren't that good an actress.

Why does it bother me? I mean really it doesn't affect me in the slightest. Well, it is somebody who is draining already limited resources and directing them away from people that need them, I guess. But I also guess that even if these people don't have the mental illnesses they claim to have, there is certainly something going on there to require such (and God, I hate this phrase, but I can't think of another) attention-seeking behaviour!  And, for sure, I would rather a bunch of people who don't need the help recieve it, than one person who really does need it get pigeon holed with the attention seeking label and not get the help they need. But that's part of the problem. These people with their foolishness, create such an atmosphere of skeptacism and mistrust between mentals and the MH professionals, that people in need do fall through the crack. So many of you in the blogosphere are examples of this. The cynacism and unhelpfulness of those whose jobs it is to help. But I can imagine being taken for a ride over and over again, it must eventually wear down even the most caring of professionals!

Sigh. I don't know. Really, I just need to learn to let it slide off and not bug me so much. As much as it feels incredibly insulting.. its not directed at me. And in the end, I don't have to read it, I don't have to listen. So I won't. I've deleted this particular blog and their caricaturised, overdramatic, histrionic postings from my reader. Maybe I'm wrong about them... but me not reading won't hurt them any, and it will make me feel better.

How do you guys deal with people (on the internet or real life) who set your BS alarm into overdrive with their "mentalism?" Not the people who just misuse the terms 'depression' and 'anxiety' but those who seem to actively construct lies and grossly exaggerate and fabricate?

Over share....sorry!

Starting with the nice stuff first... I slept right up to the alarm this morning and even hit the snooze button! Loving this sleep stuff!! Off to therapy and a GP appointment, and then shopping! And I didn't even freak out in the crazy school holidays crowd. I bought some warm, casual clothes...(as I am too fat to fit in last winter's clothes) including a cute shirt with two penguins on it that says "Melt hearts not ice caps". Very sacchrine, but I will ony be wearing it as a bed shirt, so won't be too embarrassing...and I just couldn't resist it. Also got an awesome pair of black knee high boots. I have been looking for boots for well over a year now, but current fashion trends seem to lean towards tall stiletto ones, which I cannot wear due to my vestibular system, so when I found these, on sale even, I was stoked.

Tracking back.....therapy. It wasn't horrendous, but wasn't exactly a laugh either. We started off talking about self protection. (D) knew that I had a late shift last night and that I planned to catch the bus home. Because the Busway is behind a shopping centre and the shops are obviously closed at that time, you have to walk right around the poorly lit perimeter, before you get to the better lit main road that I live on. (D) asked why I didn't ask lil sis to pick me up and I told her that lil sis goes to work at 5am so she is usually in bed by 9ish. (D) then contended that I felt lil sis's sleep was more important than my safety and basically insinuated that I leaned towards more risk taking behaviour than the average joe. I don't think that's a fair assessment. I very rarely am out at that time of night, I try to schedule things so I am home before dark. But once in a while a situation comes up where I can't avoid it. It's only a 5 minute walk, and I keep alert (heck, I have PTSD, I am HYPER-alert) towards my surroundings. I have taken self defense. The fact of the matter is, the epilepsy prevents me from driving, so I am reliant on Public Transport. And my independance is very important to me.

I was starting to get quite annoyed with her nagging me about, and told her as much. And then.... the conversation I had been waiting for, but surreptitiously avoiding since I got back from prac. "Our relationship'. Specifically, how I find it incredibly uncomfortable when she shows any sign of care or concern about me ( but paradoxically, feel comforted and validated....grrr) She (with her annoyingly perfect memory of everything I have EVER said in therapy) reminded me of a comment I made right back when we started, referring to peoples reactions to me. I said "Disgust is horrible, but empathy is even worse". So all in all an awkward, yucky session. BUT. I was proud of the fact that rather than shutting  down the topic, I let it unfurl, to see whether anything came of it, rather than give into my panic and discomfort. Yay me! We ended with a kind of heavy feeling in the air, and (D) was worried about whether I would be ok to leave. But I thought about it and felt I would be. And in reality, I walked out the door, and was able to pretty much leave it in there, to pick up next session. Something that I have struggled to do in the past. :)

After that I had a GP appointment, and she reminded me of a test that I have needed done, and been putting off for weeks. ***************Warning: Personal Overshare of an intimate nature following, feel free to cease reading especially if you have a Y chromosome*********************************************************
Basically, I have a lot of gynaecological problems, as a result of the trauma my body has undergone.... and they are quite insistant that they want me to get this ultrasound done. Unofrtunately, this particular untrasound is nnot done externally. UGH! Aside from the fact that for anybody this is an embarrassing proposition, because of my SA history and the PTSD, I can't make it through a papsmear with my own very lovely female GP, without a buttload of aanti anxiety medication. The prospect of some ultrasound technician I don't even know, sticking something up my whoo-ha..... well to say I am freaking out, is putting it mildly. Suggestions from any of the gals out there with similar fears and how they get through it are appreciated.

So that's my day. Still all in all a pretty positive mood. I was reading Pandora's post today over at Confessions of a Serial Insomniac, and I guess she was defending (?) her particular approach to therapy and mentalism in general. And it really got me thinking. How sad it is, that with a good portion of the so-called normal population judging and misunderstanding mentalism, that we ourselves would want to attack or criticise each others approaches. Personally, I don't care if you make the journey kicking, screaming and cursing every step of the way, or frolicking along gently spouting inspirational sayings and personal affirmations. The fact that you are making your way through is what's important. And, myself, I actually like me a little sarcastic, black humoured, 'the glass isn't half empty, its smashed on the floor in a million pieces after I tried to glass the last person who told me to Let go and Let god' type approach. And I love Pandora's raw and unflinching honesty. So even though I seem to be drawing rainbows and smealling flowers at the moment, I'm still on your side, sista! I can be happy, sad, angry, downright going off my brain, but as long as I'm moving I don't care.

Home Sweet Home

Finished up my prac yesterday, and got back to hometown a few hours ago.

First, can I say, how absolutely proud I am of myself for finishing out this prac and managing to stay somewhat 'together' for the month's duration of absence from home. Made infinitely harder by being surrounded by my family (I went back to childhood hometown for my prac) and barely having a minute of space and time to myself. Very challenging. There was a time I would have crumbled completely. Sure, I stumbled a bit... but in the end, I sucked it up and got the job done. So I feel ok about giving myself a wee pat on the back. My evaluation was quite good....they offered me a job when I graduate. A good compliment indeed, but living permanently around my family?..... Hell to the Naw! They also gave me a little morning tea send off and a box of choccies which was lovely. And my little poppets from the Special Ed unit made me feel very loved, letting me know that they would miss me. :) This was my first prac since taking up my third specialty in Special Education... but my experience has really cemented the fact that this is the area of Education where my passion lies.

Now, back on the homefront. My mum and her husband drove me back this evening (legally cannot drive anymore because of epilepsy). They are staying the weekend. As is older sis (again!) The thing is she doesn't even ask if she can stay. She just assumes its her god given right. OK. I can put up with that. Grit my teeth and deal. But after a month away, needing to come back to my own house and decompress. Especially given the fact I have a HUGE assignment due on Monday. I do NOT need to come back to her stomping around sulky and throwing narky, passive aggressive comments out. So, I did something I rarely ever do...I snapped and had a go at her. Usually I will avoid conflict by any means... it truly takes a lot to make me yell. My therapist (an many many others before her) have opined that I took on the role of mediator and sacraficial lamb in my family. I have been taught that my needs are less important than keeping the harmony, and basically it was my job to give in and not rock the boat, especially when it came to my older sister. The thing is, for so long we have let her get her way to avoid conflict, that we have created a monster. A narcassistic, drama queen, who constantly places herself in the victim role and has no trouble manipulating the truth in order to put herself there. Nothing is ever her fault, woe is me, oh how hard done by she is....blah blah blah.

Well, today, I am not playing. I have held myself together over the last month, now is the time for me to rejuvenate and have some time to just be authentic and true to my needs, rather than having to supress them for the greater goal. Which is basically what I told her (OK, yelled at her). Basically the gist was, she is full of shit, and never lets the truth get in the way of a good story, and she needs to stop playing the victim, or find somewhere else to play violin. Because I'm done. My house, my needs first. Somewhat, diluted by the fact that I then went and spent the evening in my room, because I was too uncomortable to be out in the living room. Sigh. I think its somewhat therapist (D's) fault. Yesterday, I had my phone appointment with her. My sister, was scheduled to take me over  to my grandparents to take the call, but she did not end up taking me until 10 minutes before the appointment. I got there just as the phone was ringing, with a stomach full of anxiety knots about being late. (D) theorised that given Big Sis's history of being unable to handle any situation where I may deflect the attention off of her or be getting a little love and support, causing her to have to pull off some bullshit crisis, to return the attention where it 'rightfully' belongs.... that maybe she was intentionally trying to sabotage a connection to someone who would give me support and care (AKA D). I don't know really, but it was certainly a case of the whole world revolves around her, and I, and (D) should just wait and go by her schedule. Anyway, (D) did her validating thang, and spoke about how I shouldn't have to push my needs aside for Big Sis's all the time, blah blah blah....and somewhere in my head it actually stuck. Hence my attempt to stand up for myself and place boundaries. The thing is, as good as it feels....its like a night on the booze...feels good at the times, but the repercussions are going to suck in the long run.

Later in the night, I overheard Big Sis, whinging to mother about how she hadn't said anything back depsite my irrational and unfair 'attack' one her (could that be, because I called you out, and you realise you don't have a f*cking led to stand on, huh?)....wah...wah...back to trying to place herself back in victim role. A converstion she wanted me to hear, as she had it right outside my bedroom door. I went to my mum and basically gave her the heads up, that I'm not putting up with it this weekend, and Big Sis better keep her mouth shut and drop the attitude tomorrow or she can find somewhere else to go.

Sigh. I have a feeling things are going to go to hell tomorrow...you're damned if you do, damned if you don't

Leaving on a positive note......I am thrilled to be home. And will be up and bloggin more now. And I am gradually catching up on all your blogs (still about 500 posts on google reader to trawl through...lol)

Peace and love
Ophelia

Ch..ch..ch.. changes!

Well, I'm not in the trees anymore. Feet are planted firmly on the ground and the gremlins firmly back in my head. Today's and yesterday's session with therapist (D) have been horrible. I spent most of today's session in silence, unable to speak. Most of yesterdays as well. I was angry and anxious and scared all rolled up into a silent seething ball, with voices inside my head screaming, and (D)'s voice quietly across the room trying to break through it all. I'm not sure what exactly is going on. The topic of intimacy and trust came up yesterday, which was certainly a trigger. And there is a lot of changes going on at the moment (well, a lot for someone like me who hanles change pretty damn poorly) (D) is moving her offices to a different suburb next week (hence her week off) Today I said goodbye to Case Manager (M) who is on leave for two months (which was a lot harder than I thought it would be) New Temporary Case Manager (A) will drop by for our first meeting alone on Thursday morning. I have to find a school to do my uni prac requirement next month in, which requires a lot of cold calling and talking to strangers. I'm just feeling a little overwhelmed. Sleep is shite. House looks like a bomb hit it after the visitors on the weekend, and I haven't the energy to do anything about it yet. Money has me grinding my teeth is fear and frustration as I try to figure out how I'm going to pay all this months bills, and beat myself over the head for not being able to go and work a full time job like a normal person. Feeling useless and helpless and pathetic. Things just feel a bit out of control at the moment. And of course, feeling out of control for me, starts pushing the self harm and suicidal ideation buttons. I haven't acted on them, have been utilising my WRAP plan, (besides I am still  on weekly only dispensation of medications because I obviously can't be trusted. No sarcasms there... I can't.) As the kids book says "I can't go under it, can't go over it...I'll have to go through it!"
                                                                                  

Frocks and Fascinators

Therapy on Tuesday continued much in the same vein as Monday. The anger, the rage. We went back and tried to pinpoint exactly when the feeling started to overwhelm me, and concluded that in some ways it did come down to me feeling judged, and inadequate. But also, because I know inherently, it is not D's natural inclination to judge, the fear that arises from the vunerability and exposure of being with somebody who will regard me with unconditional positivity makes the "voice" very angry. D asked whether she could be privy to the conversation going on in my head between the "voice" and I, and I replied no. No from the voice, and no from me. She asked if I was trying to protect her or me? Both really. The "Voice" is a manifestation of a part of me I'm not too proud of, and it thinks some very nasty things about her (from my perspective). And the "Voice's" job is to keep my guard up and protect me from anyone who might hurt me, so he doesn't want her to be privvy to ANY information (from his perspective). It creates quite a quandry. She said quite firmly that if she could not be privvy to the conversation, then the "Voice" was going to have to quieten down so she and I could have one. (Is very strange to have somebody else see the "Voice" the same way as I do... intrinsically a part of me, yet distinctally individual of me) Well, of course that got the "Voice" quite het up... and sent me into a bit of a dissociative state, or at least deeply internalised and unable to deal with outside factors ie her. I actually don't really remember getting home.... about 4 hours I can't really account for which is incredibly scary, but has happened before, in extreme stressed out states.  Unfortunately due to Easter Long weekend, and a missed session tomorrow (only time I could get into Dentisit) I won't be seeing her for a week, which is the longest in between session break we have had, outside of time spent in hospital. She will be phone contactable and encouraged me to ring, but I am heading back to small rural town to spend time with family for the long weekend and phone reception is quite dodgy.


Had group this morning, which is going pretty well. Haven't said much about it on this blog because really, it is a collective experience and thus confidentiality does come into it, but aside from the first session (when I was quite mentally unwell to begin with) I have actually quite enjoyed it and gotten some positive effects out of it. Even if it is just a collection of "Ah, I thought it was just me that.....etc etc". And just the effect of having to get out of the house one more day per week has been positive. Will be quite sad when it is over to be honest.

As I said, Home for the long weekend. Off to the country races, so I found a fascinator to go with my frock today, now I just have to find shoes... I really hate high heels, but its a frock so....hmmmm

Down to the lowest dose of Avanza now, change to effexor tomorrow. Haven't noticed it soo much with the mood, but physically, have a pretty bad case of the shakes etc. Hope this attempt turns out better than the last try

Looking forward to Sunday, when all the chocolate comes!

Raging

I guess something must be working in therapy because today's session was just plain whack! (D) and I somehow got onto the topic of my grandparents and their high expectations of me. She said that their expectations were theirs to carry not mine, and I replied that in fact, the reason it hurt so much was because they were MY expectations too. I should have finished uni by now, I should have been working steadily for a few years, maybe met someone, started thinking about a family...time feels like it is running out, and none of those things seem even remotely possible on the near horizon. She started asking about my goals and expectations of myself, and I was just overcome with this all encompassing anger towards her. i shut down and it was all I could do to get through the next 20 minutes without throwing something at her or kicking her. I walked out of the session theinking WTF was that?

Thinking on it, I think we have a classic case of Transference going on here. When she asked about my goals, I felt like it was accusatory (even though there was nothing in her demeanour to make it even remotely seem so). What do you want to do? Becuase at the moment you are just buggarising around, wasteing everyones time and the taxpayers dollars. I have felt that sentiment (true or untrue) from many people in my life including myself.... and in that innocent question I transferred all that rage on to her. Because this is NOT what I want from my life. I don't want to be dependent on benefits. I want to be a useful, contributing member of society. And the curveballs that keep getting thrown my way just get me so dmaned angry.

Angry isn't something I'm used to, or particularly good at. So even though it was kind of a shitty session...I guess we are making progress, no?

What if

What would the world be like if I woke up tomorrow and just told the truth? The whole, unblemished, sometimes dark and twisty, truth? Not on the obvious stuff...like does my butt look fat in this? Some little white lies are necessary for the world to continue on harmoniously. But what if I was to tell my mother exactly what went on under her roof when I was a child? The ways that I was used, broken and messed about. What if I told her about the anger I harbor, that she didn't protect me, she didn't love me enough to notice, that I was so inconsequential to her. What if I told my grandparents that their expectations suffocate me to the point where I feel like I will never breathe freely again? That I am less concerned with completing my degree than with completing the lattice work of self harm scars tatooing my thighs? What if I told my older sister that, in fact, what happened to you in our childhood was not the worst, and although I don't know it for sure, I am pretty sure it is I, who retain the most scars, despite your aptitude at being the victim in the family? What if I told my little sister, that it is not my job to continue to protect her, I have sacrificed myself for her, but I am not her keeper? What if I could ask them to be foundations for me, when the gremlins seem determined to drag me under. What if I told my therapist how attached I have become to her, and how very angry and scared that makes me, because, she is, and all she ever can be is a therapist, who by very description will leave. That I am angry that she can not be available to me at the times when the gremlins are worse? That she doesn't have any magic answers? What if I told her the depths of depravity I have been a party to and she turns away? What if once I get angry, once I feel the pain...really feel it...I can't stop it.

Through the counsel of another, and some self reflection today, I realised I am not doing as good a job as I thought keeping this under wraps. Everybody knows I am not being entirely truthful. Would the truth actually be better for them, then the worry of guessing. Does the truth really set us free?

Shut up

Movie goers of the world

If you are going to go and see the same movie as I am, on the one day I manage to make myself go out and do something 'normal', and then proceed to laugh, talk and poke each other in front of me for the entire last third of the movie, you had better be under the age of 15, not grown goddamned adults who should know better...... I'm just saying....

Sorry, did that swift kick to the back of your chair make you spill your drink over your ugly-ass boyfriend? What can I say, I'm crazzzzzzzzzy, ya know?

I'm not very good at psychotherapy

I am a thinker. By no means the most intelligent person in the room, but I appproach the world analytically. I have an innate need to find reasons and explainations. I thrive on finding the rational and logical reasons behind other people's and my own actions. In some ways, it has been my greatest defense throughout my life. As a child my intelligence protected me on two levels. First, as a precocious child, who learnt the rudiments of reading and writing at around age 3 (according to family history) I used these skills to escape from the turmolt of my early life. I wrote stories, and later discovered the catharsis of poetry and journal writing. I read ferociously (easily plowing through the 15 books we were allowed to borrow from the library each fortnight) to escape into worlds that were anywhere but mine. Second, I used my ability to analyse situations in order to predict what was going to happen, in a very unpredictable home. I was highly in tune with my surroundings, people's emotional states and motivations. And thirdly, I used this understanding to allow myself to retain relationships, I could find a reasonable and rational explanation to excuse any behaviour on others behalf, so that I could accept and live with those behaviours over which I had not influence. This pattern continued well into adulthood. I am doing it right now! :)

This defense was, like most defenses, bothe protective and destructive. The need for rationality and logic got in the way of my ability to just experience life as it was. To feel and accept emotions, without considering whether they were valid or not.

I'm not very good at psychotherapy. I was very good at CBT, in some ways. I was able to dissect my thoughts like a scientist dissects a frog, to identify and label each thought and its purpose. I was even able to integrate some of the ideas at times. It helped, somewhat. It was exhausting though. I felt dragged under by the past, and what I managed to control in my day to day consciousness, through extreme hypervigilance, always having to be ready to pounce on that next cognitive distortion, I was unable to keep at bay when my unconscious took over during sleep or horrific flashbacks. I felt like I was barely managing the symptoms, but underneath there was an untreated infection of 'feelings' just waiting to go septic and kill me.

So, I started psychotherapy. And I suck at it.

Feelings throw me through a loop. They are neither logical, nor rational a lot of the time. They don't stand up to close examination. They are maurauding rebels without a cause, determined to occupy my brain and do whatever the hell they want. In psychotherapy, I am to accept these feelings, to embrace them, to try and understand those parts of me, not analytically, but empathically. I am finding this incredibly difficult.

I went into therapy today, nervous, but reasonably sure that I had managed to find a logical reason for my behaviour in the past couple of sessions, and why I thought therapy was stalling. I was validated by discussing this earlier in the day with my Case Manager (who seems to use more CBT/DBT orientated interventions) that I was showing good insight, and showing signs of things starting to click into place. Therapist (D) was somewhat less affirming. She did congratulate me on my ability to step away and think about the way my mind was processing things, and acknowledged I made some very valid points. She has two major issues with it. First, she felt that I had found away to analyse away any responsability on her behalf. That she had made mistakes within the conflict too, but that I was too scared of the emotions that came with that (fear, dissapointment, anger) to allow them in. So I bludgeoned them to near death with logic and over analysis, so I wouldn't have to deal with them. Second, as much as she was interested in what I thought intellectually about what was going on, she was more interested in how I felt about it. I found that incredibly difficult to answer. Emotions are just not a strong part of my personal vocabulary. I don't know how to speak of them. Sigh. I've got a long way to go. I'm not very good at psychotherapy.

We also had a brief but horrifying talk about the therapeutic relationship. At one point I was focussed on breathing shallowly to prevent myself from throwing up. She explained that due to the nature of the relationship I was going to have feelings for her "the therapist". I was going to feel hatred and dissapointment. I was going to feel love and sometimes just like. Arggggggggggggggh! I just kept quiet hoping she would get this little talk out of her head and move on. Thinking about it now, I have to acknowledge (stomach churning again) I do have feelings that reside somewhat closer to love (platonic) than like. And it horrifies me. She is somebody who knows more about me than most people, who has shown herself to be consistent and trustworthy, who appears to care about me, who I can share a laugh with, she is nuturing and protective.... it is much like the relationship between best friends, or even approaching a maternal type relationship.... but its not. I remain aware of the limitations and reality of what it is. But still, there remains this strong attachment, that the very thought of her leaving sickens me. I hate it. And yes, there are times, when my feelings move beyond annoyance with her, to a deep, visceral rage that I have yet to fully understand.

We spoke at some length (rather she spoke) about how it was not my job to protect her from any of this. Link back to her (forced) admission that I could be exhausting. She stated firmly, that if she was beginning to experience feelings of exhaustion or burn out, it was her job to be mindful of this and remedy it...not mine. My only comment was, that it scared me to not be aware of this, because if I didn't know where she was 'at', I couldn't be prepared. She reflected that this is how I must of felt growing up in an environment where one had to constantly, be in tuned, to be prepared. How difficult a responsability for a little girl, how heavy a burden. She reported counter-transference feelings of immense sadness. I wasn't ready to go there today.

On the way out the door, she told me she would call on the weekend and she had put aside a third session for me on Tuesday. I paused. "Haven't you had enough yet?". She replied gently, "No, Ophelia, I haven't.

Stalemate

So, I have avoided blogging about my session on Monday, a) because I am kind of ashamed of my regressive behaviour and b) because I just needed some time to really think about the issues and decide where I stood. But times running out. I have therapy tomorrow, and it will have to be addressed.

In line with my strategy of avoidance, I have avoided phone or email contact with (D) for the last couple of days, but she caught me this morning by calling while I was on my way home from another appointment. You know how sometimes, when you are out and about and your mobile rings, you just grab for it and automatically answer it.... shit... it's her. Very immature, I know, but I would rather have just let it go to message bank. Sigh. The conversation I had with her was quite immature too. "How are you?" Fine. "I was just worried about you after Mondays session and wanted to check in" There's nothing to talk about. I'm fine. "Well, I don't think that's true, we need to talk about this" Oh, dear, bad reception...gotta go.

But tomorrow, its time to man up and face it. You of course, have no idea what I'm talking about yet.

So the session mostly focussed on how we can better "contain" me as we move through this next more uncomfortable stage of therapy. Should we introduce a third session? I talked about my reservations a little...finances, power dynamics, dependency etc. And then she said something about how she was really suprised that I was considering it, as she thought when she put it on the table I would shoot it down. This pissed me off and I quite snarkily asked "Why would you bother asking then?". She also said something along the lines of, she wasn't sure if it was the right thing to do either, she just put it out there for discussion. To which the "Interpreter" in my brain heard "I'm not even sure if I want to do this". I got angrier. I wanted her to be sure, before she suggested such things. I wanted her to have clearly though out and justifiable reasons for her suggestions. She clarified that what she meant was, she wasn't sure if it was the right thing for me, because she was mindful of the issues it would bring up for me. Sigh. I didn't really hear her in the moment... it took a few days for that to sink in. I think the issue is, I don't trust my own opinion much, so I am relying on her to know what the best step forward is. I need her to be a rock, in a world where there is so much uncertainty and instability. I need to trust that she knows the right things to do. But, in retrospect, I am also aware that she is just a human being, that there is no magic formula, that some of this process will inherently be hit and miss. I think it feeds into the control issues. I need the sense of rules and procedures to make me feel safe, nebulous concepts and strategies make me want to run and hide, its too risky. But in order to continue this process, I have to find a way to move forward through the risks. To trust that she will catch me, or better yet, help me land on my own two feet.

The other issue this all brought up was abandoment issues, which I never really factored in as much of an issue for me (and makes me cringe, as it brings me one step closer to fullfilling the criteria for a BPD diagnosis... not that there is anything inherently wrong with the diagnosis itself, but more because that is an additional stigma I'd like to avoid...sorry if that makes me weak) I worry that with additional demands on her, session wise, (and at a reduced rate) she is eventually going to get fed up, and leave me to deal with this mess unfinished. She has stated unequivocally that is not her intention, and the suggestion for increased contact was hers... but then to hear her sound not so sure about it rattled me, and let those gremlins start gnawing at my brain. She mentioned something about how maybe I was worried that my family was right, that she was just trying to 'milk me dry'...(ludicrous, I am not that profitable a patient) I told her that was not the case, but I did wonder why? What does she get out of it? I can see the pitfalls...a client that requires more time, seems to have more crisises at the moment and makes her less money, for the time investment. So what does she actually get out of it? I guess I partly figured if I could figure out her motivations, I could better assess whether she was safe or not. But on a deeper level, I just wanted to put her in a double bind, so I could justify the fear I was feeling, that she was just going to leave. I pushed her on the issue, pushed her to answer the question, boxed her into a corner until I got something out of her I could misconstrue for my own purposes. She said she could tell me about how much of a privilege it was to be able to take this journey and help people, but that I wouldn't believe her. She acknowledged that while it can be exhausting, it was infintely rewarding... ah-ha! Gotcha. My mind stuck on the word, exhausting. Of course she is trying to subtly tell me something she is not allowed to verbalise directly. I am a burdensome, tiring, draining, exhausting waste of space. I pushed further,  "Am I exhausting?". Double bind. She could lie and say no, but I would not trust her if she was a liar. She could hedge and try the old..."I hear that its important to you to hear the impact you have on me...why do you think that is?" But this tactic cause me to shutdown and then go into tailspins. Or she could be honest. "Yes, sometimes, but....." I didn't hear anything really from there. Just a roaring in my head, and the hollow victory of being proved right. It was nearing the end of session, and I think she was concerned at sending me out, and having me decompensate. Quite a valid concern, as that is exactly what I did. She tried to talk to me about tactics to keep myself safe, asked me to email her. I sat silently. I was NOT going to email her. I was NOT going to see her again. I was NOT setting myself up for that kind of fall again. Eventually I got up and walked out without a word, and got my little self-destructive actions under way.

Sigh. When you read this, it seems like such minor things. But particularly when you are peeled raw in therapy, it seems huge and insurmountable. So, I have had my tantrum, and I have had time to think about things, and really examine my own motivations. Now its time to go and face the very uncomfortable music.

Three times a week!!!

Therapy today. Sigh. I began the day by catching up with (K) for coffee. Entertaining and thought provoking as usual. No BS, which is nice. I always seem to walk away from my catch ups with her with a few different ideas rumbling their way through my mind. Is always good to have a different perspective from somebody who has been in a similar place before.Among the many things our little chat through up (what is the opposite of hope? I say resignation.. she respectfully disagrees) she said something about how you can't tell everything about a person, just because they have a sunshiney demeanour... they may have become that way as a reaction to a not so sunshiney past. It made me think about one of the major discomforts I have with MH professionals. They always seem to have it so together. And you imagine from the way they are able to pull apart and analyse your problems and come up with healthy solutions etc that they must have it all together. But the reality is, I'm a client, they can't really bring their baggage into the room like in a normal relationship. So you get a skewed view. Maybe somedays their life is just as shite as mine. Maybe they are able to empathise and give good advice, because they are talking from their own experience. And I need to keep that possibility in mind, before I dismiss what they have to say. Is very easy with MH issues to become very ego-centric...nobody could possibly understand, wah wah wah, I need to keep in mind they are human too, not perfectly turned out robots.

After that we chatted for a bit about photography, and (K) asked me to bring some of my photos to see next time. I really must follow through on my plan to go to the botanic gardens and potter about with my camera. Its something I have enjoyed in the past, though I am not that great at it... and as (D) has pointed out I need to be "doing things"

Anyway, after (K) I jumped on a bus and then train to get to therapy. (D) commented that I seemed outwardly to be a lot calmer. (Which I attribute mainly to meds and ex moving out of the house...finally!) But was somewhat concerned that I had become a bit disconnected. I don't seem to be able to find a happy medium, either utter out of controll-edness or complete disconnect. She started talking about increased contact again, and pointed out that while I might feel that since I am disconnected rather than a shaking, gibbering mess, I don't need it, she actually feels that I probably still do, maybe even more so.

We spoke for a little while about anger again (flogging a dead horse). She pointed out that even if I can't do anything to change the way my family reacts to it, I can still work on finding ways to be more assertive and say no, in other relationships. To learn how to protect myself from others who would seek to exploit me. And if I feel confidant in doing that, I might not just cut people off out of fear of what they might do....

Which of course led to.... Bachelor Number One. No I have not broken up with him yet. I've tried, but I jsut can't seem to make myself. Argh. I sent him an email explaining everything thats been going on, half hoping that he would just go "Ooh, that bi-atch is crazy!" and back off. But he didn't. He sent one back asking to see me. I haven't responded yet. I know in my heart now is not the right time for a relationship. And I do not want to explain the state of my hacked up legs to him... but I can't seem to make myself cut ties either. He is a great guy. Sigh. And of course, if and when he does reject me as a nutter, deep down I'll be devastated..

Finally, we moved back to the "increased contact" discussion. Still haven't made any headway. I'm going to think about adding a third session and how that might make me feel. The other choice is the phone checkins. I think she realised how worked up I'm getting about it all, because she is only going to call me once over the weekend (on saturday) and then I'll see her at my normal time on monday. She pointed out that she thought, part of the reason the "Horrible Thursday" went down the way it did, was becuse she pushed me a bit too hard and then I left the session with all of this crap still going nuts in my head, but was not going to see her again for four days. And I'm not the greatest at reaching out for help on my own at times. I don't know if that's true, but I guess it kind of makes sense.

Anyway, I left therapy with all sorts of (you guessed it) crap floating around my head, and just really needed to go home. So I skipped my blood test at Big City Hospital, which means I'm going to have to travel half and hour each way to go and get it drawn tomorrow afternoon. Sigh. I also NEED to call the uni.

Not an incredibly exciting session, but still, gave me a bit to think about.

The therapeutic relationship.

Ok. I know that there are a lot of much more informed and better blog posts out there in regards to this subject, and this will probably be a very boring post to read. You don't have to. But I just had a very 'wiggy' session and I need to process, and this blog is my place to do it.

So, today I had my make up session for the one we missed yesterday, because of (D's) conference. I was in a much better place for discussion this week, than I was last week, as some of the 'other people's drama' has calmed down, and also, I would hazard a guess, because of the increase in my Serepax dose. So, (D) began the session by asking how the last few days had gone. I rambled on about lil sis's ex finally moving out etc, and she let me ramble for a bit before saying, what she really wanted to hear about was me. How had those five days been for me? I kind of giggled at that point, because she had a point, I was not paying her to sit and listen to my sister's relationship issues for an hour. Ok, so moving onto me. I told her that I had handled it ok. I also told her about my little meltdown on Friday at lil sis, and the residual anger/agitation/irritableness that I had not been able to shake since.  I told her about the incredibly uncomfortable physical reaction that I had to it on Friday (shaking uncontrollably) and aboutt my frustration with myself for not being able to get control over myself in regards to this irritation over the weekend. We spoke about why I was so uncomfortable with anger. She zeroed in on my use of the phrase 'cracked up'. Enter various interpretations...the cracks that allow bits of me to be visible and allow bits of other people access in, the cracked egg etc. Cue my response that the cracked egg in the carton is the one that goes bad, if we are going to indulge in this over-analysis of a throw away phrase. Cue her, if some what predicatable comeback, that the cracked egg allows the chicken to be born. Well played (D), well played. I really don't know why I let myself be drawn into these debates over the deeper meaning of words and phrases, that I am pretty sure really don't much have a deeper meaning. I said cracked up, were I from a different locality I may have said "Had a barney" "Chucked a tanty" "Did my block" or any one of many other meaningless and trite phrases. I guess maybe it's that, if I can engage her in these trivial debates, it is more time deflected away from uncomfortable subject matter.

Finally, she just out and out asked me what it was about anger that made me so uncomfortable. Which of course, made me extremely uncomfortable. To the point where I did what  swore to myself previously I wouldn't do, and let a little too much of my crazy show, by jumping up and straightening her mat. I recentered myself, and answered that anger made me uncomfortable a)because it is unproductive b) because I feel like once I allow myself to get angry I can't contain it and stop it (not like the Incredible Hulk, or anything, I just feel like once I give myself permission to be angry at one thing, a whole plethora of things come pouring out that I am angry about and c) I was uncomfortable talking about it with her, because I knew we held diametrically opposed ideas about anger and it felt too much like a confrontation. (D) considered all this and replied to b) that "it would eventually stop, that is the nature of it" or something along those lines. Then she considered "diametrically opposed. I clarified. I have a firm position in my head that anger is completely unproductive, particularly with my family, as it makes no impact on them, nor does it get them to change their behaviour (see lil sis's lack of help or understanding on the weekend), so all that it does is make me feel horrible and hateful. And she of course, holds firmly to the idea that anger (when contained and appropriately directed) can be a productive thing. I hate situations like this, because I really feel like there is nothing she can say to change my mind... and it just feels confrontational and makes me feel like a recalcitrant child, who won't listen to reason.

So, we moved onto a) anger isn't productive. I tried explaining to her that in my family, my anger is not heard. It wouldn't matter how loud I screamed they would not hear it or accept it. I could get angry at my family's inability to allow me to break out of the role of passive peacemaker who will always give in, or I can just accept that I can't change them, and if I choose to have them in my life (which I do) then I just have to accept that. I came to this conclusion after being told by them repeatedly post-od in 2006 that I had to be more honest about how I was feeling, only to be shut down completely everytime I tried. She asked me how my family had reacted to my 'pitching a fit' on friday night, and my general crankiness and agitatedness over the weekend. I told her that big sis had tried to have a word with lil sis about it, but I just don't think it sunk in. Other than that, I said, they mainly just made a joke of it. She asked me what they said, and I cringed inside knowing how bad it would sound to her. She said that it was not about blaming anyone, just trying to figure out the communication dynamics within the family. So, I gave her the example "Be good, because your Auntie Ophelia is on the edge, and she might crack it, then we'll have to take her back to the nuthouse". I felt so ashamed saying that out loud, becuase I know how it sounds. I think (D) was a little speechless for a moment. I tried to explain that that was just the way they all talked, and that I just had a thinner skin than the rest of them, but she told me not to 'minimise' it. I know, some of the things that my family says could be considered inappropriate, but that's how we've been brought up, to make a joke of things so we don't have to discuss anything unpleasant or requiring emotion. And, yes, at times it feels incredibly invalidating, but I also tend to make a joke of everything, to make other people more comfortable with things. Sigh.

I checked the clock. She smiled and asked me whether time was going a bit too slowly for me, or whether I had something I was wanting to say before the session ended. But it was less about that, and more about the growing feeling of agitation, that I was coming into therapy, and getting these thoughts all messed around in my head, I got to 'feel' these feelings that I apparently have a right to feel and then go home to my very real, very imperfect, invalidation world, and try to manage. I didn't think it was fair to bring up this giant mess of emotions when I had to walk out the door after 50 minutes and deal. Which is stupid, because essentially what therapy is all about. Sigh. Anyway, I told her my thoughts. (D) replied that we did need to work towards getting more containment as we approach some of the more difficult stuff. She said that therapeutically, she actually thought I would benefit from more contact (I currently see her twice a week!) but she realised financially this would be difficult for me (she already charges me a sliding scale rate, which creates bif issues around money and power balances for me) She mentioned looking into some organisations that may subsidise the cost of therapy. But I vigorously shook my head. Seeing her,even for one more session a week just brings to head the ugly issue of dependence for me. Ugh! She talked about the possability of daily phone check-ins, which I also rejected. She asked whether this was because of the dependence issues or because I was worried about being a burden to her. Both really, but mostly the former. She told me that a certain level of dependence is expected and somewhat necessary for the therapeutic relationship. But that it is something that we both keep in mind and moniter. She asked me to think about it and asked if she could call me tomorrow to check in. I shook my head. She asked if this was because I was worried about the being a burden issue. I shrugged. She told me she would call tomorrow. Sigh.

It is a weird, weird, weird relationship the one between therapist and client, particularly in pyschodynamic therapy The reality is, the last few weeks have shown I am dependent on her. And I hate it! And I am fighting desperately against it, whilst at the same time needing the support to anchor me. Arrrrrrrrrrrrrrrgh! How do i know when it crosses the line from healthy (in the therapeutic context) and unhealthy? I guess I trust her judgement. And I do. Some of my family seem to think she is trying to rort me, suck me into staying in therapy, keeping me unwell. Not only is this laughable, as I don't think they fully understand what mental illness really is.  But is also, this is laughable because I am not exactly a cash cow. She sees me twice a week, say 50 weeks a year, so 100 sessions. Of these, medicare pays for 18. Private health pays for 7, but only $65, so (D) cuts the price to $80, so I pay a $15 gap for those. Once those 26 sessions are used up, the next 74 sessions are all down to me. (D) has cut these sessions down by $130 to $30. Do I feel guilty, do I hate this ? Yes. Am I under any illusion that she is trying to keep me in therapy to milk me dry? No. If that was her intention there are plenty of people who could fill my slot and pay her a lot more.

I hate this
I hate this
I hate this

My kind of day

Today, I have not been doing anything that I am 'supposed' to do. I have stayed in my pajamas. I did not shower. After the big cleaning marathon on the weekend, there was little that needed to be done other than a few dishes. I had a pizza pocket for lunch. I drank real coke, rather than the decaffenieted stuff I try to drink. I watched all the shows that I had recorded on the IQ. I surfed the net. I dealt with the phone/cable situations, which took about 10 minutes, but pushed all the other things I have to sort...uni, carpets etc off the agenda for the day. And now I am cooking myself a very easy frozen curried lentil and rice microwave meal, before cuddling up on the couch for some more tv. And even though I haven't done any of the things I'm supposed to do to keep the depression at bay...exercise, socialise, eat properly etc.... it was just what I needed. The sheer bliss of a day of just kicking back, chilling out and doing exactly what I wanted to. It's not something I can keep up... but for today, it was good.

Therapist (D) texted me to let me know that she was back from overseas, and she hoped that I was doing ok, but she wasn't in a place where she could call me. Which was fine, to be honest I didn't expect a call from her tonight, when she has just gotten back, but it was lovely that she thought to send the text. I really need to remind myself next time therapy is going as I might want it to that I am quite lucky to have (D) who is consistent and trustworthy, is available as needed outside of the "50 minutes", without letting it turn into a situation where there is too much dependence. When times are tricky she really steps up to the plate with the everyday support, without making me feel bad or like a burden (although I can do that all by myself) I can say now, in a moment of relative peace, that it has been really interesting, though sometimes unsettling, to look back on how the therapeutic relationship has developed in just over 6 months. I trust her. I really do. Which is so strange for me. And the way she was able to take my anger, from that horrible 'Thursday' and let me know, that it was ok, it was a good thing, and the relationship could survive it, was pretty amazing. I'm still processing the concept. And then to be able to switch gears, and know that stuff needed to be put on the backburner while the whirlwind of the last week was endured, was fantastic. We have a fill-in session tomorrow morning, and I know its going to be time to start facing up to some hard sh*te, but tonight, I feel ok about this, because I have a pretty amazing therapist help me, as well as a wonderful (if annoyingly, perpetually happy) Case Manager, who has also consistently stuck by, and been available to me, despite the limitations of the Public Health system. And who has been able to advocate for me, within said system, when I am unable to do it for myself. And of course (K), who seems to find a way to both suprise me and get me thinking whenever we catch up. From a professional point of view, I am pretty damned lucky support-wise, even BossPsychDoc is ok, although I think I will probably be relegated back to his new BabyDoc. I met her when I was last in hospital, only once, but she seems ok, better than the douchebag who held the position before her at least. At some point I may need to consider getting a private psych. Particularly if sleep doesn't start to improve. Private psychs tend to be a bit more creative in their approach and of course, have more time to spend one on one and get to the bottem of things. But for now, its all pretty good. Now, I just need to work on maybe (maaaaaaybe) opening up to some friends and family a bit more, so my social support network is stronger.

I need a break

To start off with, let it be said I am a bit of a sad case.  I am not good at walking away from people who are in trouble, even if I can't help, without feeling incredibly guilty. Such is the case with (F) who I spoke about a few posts ago. She made some bad choices and misused her medication which resulted in us having a head on collision with another car last saturday because she drove on the wrong side of the road. It was at that point that I realised I had to distance myself a little,  as I didn't think I could do anything to help, and it was potentially quite damaging for me to have contact with her at this time. But I still think about her, and worry about whether she is going to be ok, whether she will be able to kick this addiction. Wish I could do more to help her. So I logged onto Facebook this evening, and realised she had de-friended me. Which is good news, as it means a) that she is still alive b) she is not in hospital (although am not sure this is actually good, maybe a treatment program wouldbe the best place?) and c) I probably shouldn't be looking at her facebook anyway, if I have made the choice to take a little distance. But it also makes me sad, about the loss, (potentially permanent) of what was a good and important friendship to me. So, will resist the urge to call and check on her, and instead just send my positive thoughts. Keep safe (F) and I hope you can find the strength to realise that you are worth fighting for and that you have been strong enough to kick a drug habit before, and you are strong enough now. I really wish nothing but the best for you and your precious bub. And if this is the end of our friendship, I am still grateful for the good times we've had and the support we've been able to give each other. I'm sorry I could not do more.

Speaking of being a pushover, am still pretty damned annoyed with lil sis, who refuses to do much to help at all. She did cook dinner tonight, but barely lifted a finger to help with the four day long spring clean. Sigh. I have always done the lion's share of the housework and it usually doesn't bother me that much, but I think its just a cumulative thing, with everything that's been going on, particularly in the last week, my tolerance for annoyance and agitation is at an all time low. As the song says "Everything you say to me, takes me one step closer to the edge, and Im about to BREAK" I just really need a few days of no drama and a bit of time and space to myself to start gaining a bit of my tenuous equilibrium back.

At any rate looks like the ex has gotten all of his stuff and he has handed keys back, so that is one less thing to worry about. Therapist (D) is due back from her conference tomorrow afternoon and I have a session booked for Tuesday morning. And visit to NeuroDoc on Wednesday. At some point tomorrow I need to contact the university re:dropping my subjects without academic penalty. Oh, and I also have to break up with boyfriend...more about that later...am too tired to explain. More than anything I would like to just bury myself under the duvet and ignore the world for a few days. Or as Miss Lola would suggest, run away to a deserted island. I am over people, the real life ones at any rate. I need a break.

P.S. I checked Google Analytics today and I am getting quite a few visitors everyday from all sorts of different places. Feel free to comment or just say hi. Its kind of weird writing to a silent audience. As another song goes "And I feel like I'm naked in front of the crowd, Cause these words are my diary, screaming out loud" Anna Nalick Breathe Well....screaming somedays, mostly just whinging

Somebody let me out of here

Ok. So I am tired, sunburnt, agitated, have come close to losing it with several members of my family today, and am now sleeping on the couch again tonight, as my aunt and her two little ones are in my bed. We went to a local water park today for big sis's b'day and to allow lil sis's ex to move his stuff out. Crowds, people, hot sun and our own little over-stimulated darlings (5yo, 9yo and 10 yo) made me very agitated and snappy. Added to the fact, that I've had a headche all day from having to walk around without my glasses on and I spent the whole day worried I was going to have a seizure and ruin everyone's day. Whine, whine, whine. I am just not fit to be around people at the moment.

Got home and realised ex has not moved all of his stuff. He texted my sister and told her because it had rained he wasn't able to get all of his stuff and would be coming back tomorrow. Personally I think thats just bollocks. We have potential housemates interviewing tomorrow, so I told her to tell him he would have to come next weekend, but apparently he was insistent on doing it tomorrow. So she told him he can come between 10am and 2pm, but that is it! Hopefully, he will respect this boundary. Sigh. I am just so sick and tired of this crap. I am sick and tired of everything. I feel like shit, emotionally and physically. Somebody let me out of here!

Found my anger..didn't know what to do with it, so lost it again..

Lost my temper and very nearly lost the plot this afternoon. Lil sis just pushed me to far with her inconsideration and unhelpfulness in getting the house ready for prospective tenants. Plus I was on edge from lack of meds...Finally got the call that my script was ready and so removed myself from the house. By the time I reached the Mental Health Building, I was shaking with agitation. Was so bad that when (M) handed me a cup of water I could barely hold the cup. Chatted with her for a few minutes, which centred me a bit. Although she was of the opinion like therapist (D) that it is good for me to get in touch with my anger. Which I understand in theory, but practically, me losing my temper is not going to help the situation. Walked back down the hill to the mall to get script filled, still shaking so bad that the pharmacy attendant was giving me strange looks as I tried to sign my name. Thought I would want to get in and out of mall as quickly as possible, but strangely did not find it as claustrophobic as I would normally. Plus it was airconditioned and 10 000 degrees outside. So stuck around for an hour or so and did some frivilous shopping. Didn't spend much and I had some birthday cash left, so it was a nice splurge. Bought some cushions and a shoe rack and a new mat for the doorway. Also bought a big bag of pick and mix lollies as a treat. Ignored phone calls from sisters. When I finally got home I think lil sis was trying to apologise, as big sis had basically told her, if you don't cut it out then Ophelia is going to crack completely. But didnt realise that's what she was trying to do, and was too pissed off to bother listening. She still didnt really help me clean the rest of the house. So I finished tidying and vacuuming. Aunt arrived with two little cousins and my big sis went to pick up her son, so we have a full house ready for our trip to the water park tomorrow. At first found the infringement on my space a bit tricky, but had a 'good' chat with aunt and sister re: past history, and why therapy is good for me. They see me going month after month and don't think its helping, which I understand, but they don't understand the complexities of it. Besides they don't have a better plan, so.....Is now 2 am and I have to be up in a few hours to leave, so I should try and get some sleep. Sigh. Ex is pretty much all moved out, and has tomorrow while we are out of the house to get the rest. Anyways....longer post tomorrow.

Echos of the past

My older sister has come to stay with us until the end of the week, when little sister's ex is supposed to be leaving. Safety in numbers. It's a familiar feeling. Three sisters, carefully monitering the tension in the house, waiting for the next outburst, waiting for the blow. We are wary of making too much noise, drawing too much attention. We stay mostly within sight of each other, especially watching little sister, trying to protect each other.

Last night was an onslaught of screaming and intimidation, punctuated by brief, but strangely agonising patches of silence. Agonising because you knew it was just a prelude to the next onslaught. We fall into familiar roles. Big sister steps in, deflects the aggression towards herself to protect us. I mediate, defuse and attempt to deescalate. Little sister remains stoic, doesn't give much away, pretty much pretends to herself that it isn't happening, though I can feel her exhaustian under the constant barrage of verbal assaults and physical intimidation.

It has not turned 'violent' yet, in the most general sense of the word. The abuse is mostly verbal and emotional. But the presence of violent threat looms through standover tactics and words screamed directly into one's face. Things seem absurd. His actions are on the face spiteful, but have a malaevolent undertone. We laugh that he woke up in the middle of the night to dismantle the wireless, as he didn't know about my purchase of a pre-paid wireless modem for my laptop. We laugh that he disabled my little sister's car and cancelled her RACQ membership, because older sister was able to drop little sister at work, and then figure out how to get the car started. We laugh that his attempts to lock little sister out of the house, were thwarted because he didn't realise older sister had a set of keys for the other door. We laugh that he wakes in the night to shift things from the house to the shed so we cannot use them, dryer, washer, ect. We don't care about things, take what you want, stuff can be replaced. We laugh because his attempts fail to cause the discomfort intended. But we are also perfectly aware and wary of the intent.

It's a familiar feeling... not wanting to go home, not knowing what the night will bring.  We find ourselves laughing hysterically over stupid things, over serious things.... but we are all aware that scratch beneath the laughter, we are all bundled up with anxiety. My stomache aches, my head throbs, my hands are constantly moving. My therapist commented on it today in session... my hands, that flap and pull, tug and pinch, startle reflex honed into supersensory mode. "The body remembers" she said. Cliched, but true. Old patterns repeated, old coping mechanisms reengaged. Fight or flight response constantly on active standby.

My energy is low. Neither older sister or I slept much last night, as we listened to him creep around the house, doing his nasty little tricks. We saw him attempt to go into little sisters room, unobserved, only to realise, that we were both awake, watching, on standby. I feel to fragile to withstand this standoff, but there is little choice. She is our baby sister, if you try to hurt her, we will come after you, motherf*cker!

We have all the information we need to get a Domestic Violence Order place, we know his behaviour meets the criteria. But little sister holds off for now, and we have to respect that. Instead we spend the day planning, making lists, ringing real estates and shopping to replace items he has taken or destroyed. Tomorrow, we will make sure all the items he wants are ready to go... we will make it as easy as possible for him to leave. Leave, just leave for God's Sake.

Tonight has been by comparison quieter. He has been out most of the night. But the tension remains. And the vigil goes on. He could return at any minute and we need to be ready to step in if needed. We need to be on guard. Hopefully whereever he went, it wasn't to go on another bender.... the alcohol makes it much worse.

Same story. Three scared sisters. One large, angry, drunk man. 20 years on. Same story.

I don't know how much more of this I can stand.