I discovered today that I don't like tunnels. I mean, I really, really, truly despise tunnels!
See, we ventured over to the northern suburbs today. My lil sis ( also my current housemate), her bf (soon to be my new housemate) and I. Our journey across the river was to look at some of the suburbs to determine where we will be moving to when our lease runs out in a few months.
Now let me say here, I don't actually want to move. I like where we live. I like the freedom I have from me close to a major shopping centre and fantastic public transport into the city. I am comfortable with the people who work with me from the Mental Health district that services the south-eastern suburbs. I like my GP. I like my pharmacist. (When you are on as many medications as I am, and they are dispensed weekly, you develop quite the relationship with your pharmacist!) I can get to my volunteer job easily. I can visit my friends easily. It has become familiar and comfortable and workable. Sigh. But I also like (for the most part) living with Lil sis. I can't afford to live by myself and I would not cope moving into share accomodation with strangers. So, the time has come for compromise. She wants to move in with her bf. He works on the coast. He is prepared to move to the city to live with us, but in order for his work commute to be reasonable that means we need to live on the other side of the city. At first, they wanted to move to one of those "Lifestyle" gated communities, pretty much as far north as you can go and still claim to live in *our city*. You know the places, where they advertise how you'll rollerblade around the fake lake, and take walks every evening... blah blah. As if a physical move suddenly turns you into a fitter, healthier, relaxed, more active person. As if that's all it takes. Problem being, it would take me well over an hour just to get into the city centre.
So we are working on a compromise. Far enough north that bf is closer to work, and can get on the motorway avoiding too much heavy traffic in the morning. But closer to the city and public transport, so that I can stay independent and not totally isolated. It means I will have to move to a different Health District (but maybe by then I'll be discharged from the Mental Health service anyway?), find a new GP/Pharmacist, and getting to work and visiting friends will take a little longer. But it's a pretty fair compromise I guess. I just don't adjust to change very well. Sigh. The good news is that it is actually on the same side of town as my therapist, so if we get somewhere on the right busroute, the travel time there might be reduced.
Now I said we had to venture across the river. Thats not strictly true. Lil Sis had the bright idea that instead of taking the bridge, we should take the new, you-beaut tunnel they have built to bypass the city, that takes you under the river. It was horrible. My skin got clammy, I started hyperventilating, I felt totally trapped. Ugh. They spent a fortune on this tunnel bypass, but hardly anyone uses it, even though they've dropped the toll to try and increase the traffic. And now I know why. It's just not natural, driving under all that water. But lil sis thinks its great, because its cheaper than the bridge and you avoid the traffic. So on the way home we took it again. Ugh! It was not a phobia I was aware of until today, but its easily hit the "Top 5 Things that freak me the fuck out!" list.
Showing posts with label Anxiety. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Anxiety. Show all posts
Saturday, July 31, 2010
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
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
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
Monday, July 26, 2010
The mighty mighty benzo
Aside from the diagnosis issues to discuss with PsychDoc on Tuesday, we are also looking to start withdrawing me from the Serepax. A little scary, but I'm really keen to try. Ultimately, research has proven that Benzodiazepams are really not the best drugs to be on long term... and I have been on one or another benzo for the past 10 years. My first script was Temazepam, which did sweet f.a., to be honest. That was followed by a brief affair with Valium, but we parted ways after just two doses as it made me feel incredibly disconnected from myself and the world and nauseous and dizzy to boot. Xanax was my buddy for a good number of years, but that was cut short by the Psych after my admission to hospital last year, when they changed me over to Serepax, as it was longer acting. I only ever took the Xanax to stem off major panic attacks, so pretty much left to my own devices, I would often go weeks without taking any, and when I did, it would just be one or two. When they changed me to Serepax to help with anxiety and insomnia I was prescribed 3 doses a day.... so in the end, even though the Public Health System doesn't like Xanax, as being shorter acting, its more likely to be abused, I have actually ended up taking more benzos under their guidance than when left to my own discretion... oh well. In addition to this, I take Clonazepam twice a day in conjunction with my anti-epileptic meds. So yeah, me and benzos? Old Pals!
I can't stop taking the Clonazepam as it helps significantly with my seizure threshold. But I never intended to be on the Serepax for this long, particularly taking it three times a day. And I've been bringing up the idea of ceasing it for about 6 months now, but there always seemed to be some crisis or upcoming event that made it advisable to hold off on cessation. But things have evened out a lot more over the last two months or so, so it is time to try.
Dr F is quite supportive of this, and is open to discussing the ways in which we can best taper it down. There are a few inherent issues. Usually they switch out the serepax with valium, and then taper off the valium, but as mentioned, Valium is no friend of mine, so I've chosen to taper down with out any crossovers. We also have to be careful, as withdrawing off Benzos can lower the seizure threshold for a while, but I have some room to play with my Epilim Dosage, which should hopefully counteract this.
I'm on the lowest dose for each of the three doses... 7.5mg, which is half a tablet each time... so it doesn't leave much room to half the dosage. So, we figured that I will just start skipping the lunchtime dose to begin with. I've had a bit of a trial run last fortnight, and whilst I definately felt more agitated and anxious in the afternoon, it was certainly manageable. Because I'm on weekly meds, Dr F wants to make sure I have enough tablets each week so that I can take the lunchtime tablet if I need to. But she's also quite rightly concerned about me hoarding them. Frankly it would be a temptation... not because I'm suicidal right now, but because Ive been on weekly meds and thus without the safety blanket of stored meds for so long now. When she expressed her concern, I admitted I wasn't quite sure if I trusted myself. So, I'm going to propose she writes ONE script with the extra dose (adding up to 3 and a half extra tablets, nothing I can do with that), and I will give the extras to my sister to mind, unless I need them. And after that she writes the script for just two dose, unless we discuss otherwise. I know part of recovery is being responsible for my own well being, but part of being responsible, I believ, is knowing the areas you can't yet be trusted and asking for help.
So, she has talked to me about how important it is to withdraw slowly... but frankly I didn't think it was going to be too huge a deal. I mean I did ok for those couple of days last fortnight, and although I've been on this particular Benzo for nearly a year, its a reasonably low dose, and I still have the Clonazepam and my anti depressant in my system. But then I made the mistake of looking up Benzo Withdrawal....oh, internet, sometimes you are a Pandoras Box!... Some of the side effects of withdrawal allegedly include:
And in the meantime... if I do cut the cheese... I can just blame it on my benzo withdrawl, instead of the long suffering, unfairly maligned cat :P
I can't stop taking the Clonazepam as it helps significantly with my seizure threshold. But I never intended to be on the Serepax for this long, particularly taking it three times a day. And I've been bringing up the idea of ceasing it for about 6 months now, but there always seemed to be some crisis or upcoming event that made it advisable to hold off on cessation. But things have evened out a lot more over the last two months or so, so it is time to try.
Dr F is quite supportive of this, and is open to discussing the ways in which we can best taper it down. There are a few inherent issues. Usually they switch out the serepax with valium, and then taper off the valium, but as mentioned, Valium is no friend of mine, so I've chosen to taper down with out any crossovers. We also have to be careful, as withdrawing off Benzos can lower the seizure threshold for a while, but I have some room to play with my Epilim Dosage, which should hopefully counteract this.
I'm on the lowest dose for each of the three doses... 7.5mg, which is half a tablet each time... so it doesn't leave much room to half the dosage. So, we figured that I will just start skipping the lunchtime dose to begin with. I've had a bit of a trial run last fortnight, and whilst I definately felt more agitated and anxious in the afternoon, it was certainly manageable. Because I'm on weekly meds, Dr F wants to make sure I have enough tablets each week so that I can take the lunchtime tablet if I need to. But she's also quite rightly concerned about me hoarding them. Frankly it would be a temptation... not because I'm suicidal right now, but because Ive been on weekly meds and thus without the safety blanket of stored meds for so long now. When she expressed her concern, I admitted I wasn't quite sure if I trusted myself. So, I'm going to propose she writes ONE script with the extra dose (adding up to 3 and a half extra tablets, nothing I can do with that), and I will give the extras to my sister to mind, unless I need them. And after that she writes the script for just two dose, unless we discuss otherwise. I know part of recovery is being responsible for my own well being, but part of being responsible, I believ, is knowing the areas you can't yet be trusted and asking for help.
So, she has talked to me about how important it is to withdraw slowly... but frankly I didn't think it was going to be too huge a deal. I mean I did ok for those couple of days last fortnight, and although I've been on this particular Benzo for nearly a year, its a reasonably low dose, and I still have the Clonazepam and my anti depressant in my system. But then I made the mistake of looking up Benzo Withdrawal....oh, internet, sometimes you are a Pandoras Box!... Some of the side effects of withdrawal allegedly include:
abdominal pains, aching, agoraphobia, anxiety, blurred vision, body vibrations, changes in perception, diarrhea, distended abdomen, feeling of unreality, flu-like symptoms, flatulence, food cravings, hair loss, heart palpitations, heavy limbs, increased allergies, increased sense of smell, insomnia, lethargy, loss of balance, metallic taste, muscle spasms, nightmares, panic attacks, paranoia, persistent & unpleasant memories, severe headaches, shaking, short term memory loss, sore mouth and tongue, sound & light sensitivity, speech difficulties, sweating, suicidal thoughts, tinnitus, unusually sensitive, fearThis was one of the shorter lists. On some sites, there are those who seem to hold it responsible for everything from cavaties to the hole in the ozone layer... I don't know, its hard to find accurate information. I mean flatulence? Seriously? I think even when the side effects are written up on legitimate sited, the information is still derived from patient reporting, and there is a population of patients who just make the weirdest connections in their minds between vague somatic complaints and medications. Its hard to know which ones are valid. And then of course there is the fact its all planted in my mind.... you start thinking maybe my ears are ringing just a little, oooh and my mouth is dry, definately dry and that light is getting a bit bright for my eyes. Short story, I would have been better off not looking it up. And I know this from past experience... so why do I continue to do it? Sigh. We will just wait and see what the next week brings...
And in the meantime... if I do cut the cheese... I can just blame it on my benzo withdrawl, instead of the long suffering, unfairly maligned cat :P
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
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
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
Monday, July 12, 2010
I don't wanna and you can't make me, so there!
So feeling much better. Sleep seems to be slowly improving which is fantastic. Had a bit of a funny converstion with Lil Sis this evening:
Me: Why is it that the "Woman's Day" (an Aussie Magazine) is only released weekly and the "Woman's Weekly" is only released monthly?
Lil Sis: Well, it wouldn't sell very well if they called it "Woman's Monthly"
Me: Touche, Grasshopper, Touche....
Therapy was interesting today. We got talking about my little irrational crying jag on Saturday night. I mentioned that I knew what had triggered it off (a movie I was watching) but that wasn't really the reason I kept crying. The crying jag was completely out of proportion with what I had seen. That being said, I really wasn't entirely sure of what was behind it... but it was more than what I had seen on the TV. Here is where it got a bit tricky, because obviously her next question was what I had been watching that upset me. And I didn't want to tell her. She assumed it was because I was embarrassed and I let her think that. But it was actually not that at all. The truth was, I knew if I told her what it was, she would read way more into it than was necessary, and we would be caught up in a conversation I didn't want to have. I'll share it with you, my dear readers. The movie I was watching was "MASH- the movie", quite an oldie. The scene that upset me was when Hawkeye was in a bus, trapped behind enemy lines, and they were trying to keep as quiet as they could so the soldiers wouldn't know they were there. But there was one Korean woman with a baby that wouldn't stop crying and was putting them all at risk of being found. So in desperation, she smothered the baby to death. It was really quite horrible. And of course if I shared this with (D) than what direction do you think the conversation would take. Mother who sacrifices her child for her own survival. Easy to see where that would lead to in a therapy situation.
So, I didn't tell her. Which she accepted, but of course then we had to examine why I didn't want to tell her. Sigh. I felt myself digging my heels in even harder, which was not helpful and really, I was starting to annoy myself. I felt like a petulant child. But I also didn't feel like I could do anything about it. I knew I was being childish, but I couldn't stop myself. So I did the next best thing. I talked to (D), she pulled the old therapy chestnut "what's going through your head right now". And I answered honestly, that I felt like I often was behaving like a petulant child, and that I didn't know how to stop myself, and be open and less stubborn so that we could actually have productive session. We spoke about it for a while, and she posited that when a child behaves like that it is away of them creating that seperation of self from a parent, and maybe I was doing it to create that seperation of self from her in the therapeutic process. Which annoyingly, made sense. Freaking transference. If I was to talk about this process to any of my friends, they would just think its bloody weird. And it is. But it is helpful. Sigh.
Anyhow. I'm applying to volunteer in the children's ward across from the RMH, which I think is a good step toward filling my life with productive and meaningful stuff. Job Hunt 2010 still goes on. Hopefully I should hear back from the Disability Employment Ofiicer soon. Tomorrow, I've got therapy again and then an appointment with Psych Doc. And then in the afternoon Lil Sis and I are going to go shopping for new DVD BoxSets to keep us entertained. Any suggestions?
Peace and Love
xOphelia
Me: Why is it that the "Woman's Day" (an Aussie Magazine) is only released weekly and the "Woman's Weekly" is only released monthly?
Lil Sis: Well, it wouldn't sell very well if they called it "Woman's Monthly"
Me: Touche, Grasshopper, Touche....
Therapy was interesting today. We got talking about my little irrational crying jag on Saturday night. I mentioned that I knew what had triggered it off (a movie I was watching) but that wasn't really the reason I kept crying. The crying jag was completely out of proportion with what I had seen. That being said, I really wasn't entirely sure of what was behind it... but it was more than what I had seen on the TV. Here is where it got a bit tricky, because obviously her next question was what I had been watching that upset me. And I didn't want to tell her. She assumed it was because I was embarrassed and I let her think that. But it was actually not that at all. The truth was, I knew if I told her what it was, she would read way more into it than was necessary, and we would be caught up in a conversation I didn't want to have. I'll share it with you, my dear readers. The movie I was watching was "MASH- the movie", quite an oldie. The scene that upset me was when Hawkeye was in a bus, trapped behind enemy lines, and they were trying to keep as quiet as they could so the soldiers wouldn't know they were there. But there was one Korean woman with a baby that wouldn't stop crying and was putting them all at risk of being found. So in desperation, she smothered the baby to death. It was really quite horrible. And of course if I shared this with (D) than what direction do you think the conversation would take. Mother who sacrifices her child for her own survival. Easy to see where that would lead to in a therapy situation.
So, I didn't tell her. Which she accepted, but of course then we had to examine why I didn't want to tell her. Sigh. I felt myself digging my heels in even harder, which was not helpful and really, I was starting to annoy myself. I felt like a petulant child. But I also didn't feel like I could do anything about it. I knew I was being childish, but I couldn't stop myself. So I did the next best thing. I talked to (D), she pulled the old therapy chestnut "what's going through your head right now". And I answered honestly, that I felt like I often was behaving like a petulant child, and that I didn't know how to stop myself, and be open and less stubborn so that we could actually have productive session. We spoke about it for a while, and she posited that when a child behaves like that it is away of them creating that seperation of self from a parent, and maybe I was doing it to create that seperation of self from her in the therapeutic process. Which annoyingly, made sense. Freaking transference. If I was to talk about this process to any of my friends, they would just think its bloody weird. And it is. But it is helpful. Sigh.
Anyhow. I'm applying to volunteer in the children's ward across from the RMH, which I think is a good step toward filling my life with productive and meaningful stuff. Job Hunt 2010 still goes on. Hopefully I should hear back from the Disability Employment Ofiicer soon. Tomorrow, I've got therapy again and then an appointment with Psych Doc. And then in the afternoon Lil Sis and I are going to go shopping for new DVD BoxSets to keep us entertained. Any suggestions?
Peace and Love
xOphelia
Friday, July 9, 2010
Not such a great day
Yesterday was hard. And I guess a little bit of a shock to the system after a period of relative good moods. We so quickly become accustomed to it: the good moods, the lack of agitation, the good sleep, that when things take a bit of a slide, even if it is nowhere as bad as it has been before, you kind of feel it even worse because of the contrast. But I am trying very hard not to let it turn into a snowball effect.
I was up early for the ultrasound appointment, making sure I had enough water to drink and taking the higher dose of anti-anxiety meds to get through it. Having (S) come along proved to be a good thing, not just as a safety thing with the increased meds, but also just as a bit of distraction. She did offer to come into the consulting room with me, but I refused... taking our friendship just that step to far into the intimate, methinks. But it was nice of her to offer. I was pretty lucky with the tech that I got. I explained without going into much detail that this was a difficult test for me to have due to past trauma, and she was very good about explaining things step by step, taking it very slow and offering to stop if it got too much. She also tried to engage me by talking throughout the test, although this was not very effective as I found (as a coping mechanism, I think) that I was drifting in and out of the moment. Not full blown dissasociation, but certainly it was there to some degree. Probably exacerbated by the medication. It did trigger a lot of flashback type episodes which continued on after the appointment.
I got home and headed straight off to bed for a little bit, but found that I was pretty damned agitated and resting was pretty impossible. I felt quite disconnected, emotional and fuzzy. (Medication? Flashbacks? Probably a combination of both) I wasn't sure how I was going to handle catching public transport to get to my therapy session. After the brouh-ha a few months ago about missing sessions, I find it pretty hard to justify missing sessions, I never know if its a good enough reason. In the end I called (D) my therapist and she pushed the appointment back a little for me, (S) came to the rescue once again and drove me across town for the appointment. In my eyes it wasn't a very productive session. I spent the majority of it wrapped up in a blanket, and to be honest I don't really remember that much about what we talked about.
It's time to be proactive. The girls stayed last night which was a good way to get me back into the present and stay there. We had a girly night chatting and laughing and then woke up for bacon and eggs this morning. (M) my case manager and I had a phone meeting, which went pretty well. She's pretty pleased with my progress in general, as am I. She is going to make a referral to the employment officer in the service. We also touched briefly on creating a proactive plan for how I am going to deal with "D-Day anniversary" in September. I'm going to have a think about it ( but not dwell!!) Whether I want to just try making it through with a little extra support (phonecalls etc) or whether we should do a planned admission. A lot of it will come down to how I do in general over the next 6 weeks or so. If things remain as stable as they are, perhaps this year the anniversary wont be as much of a struggle.
(D) is going to do a check in call this afternoon, as I wasn't doing so great yesterday. (S) and I are going to catch a movie tomorrow and then I have a shift at RMH on sunday. I'm determined not to let htis hiccup ruin my good streak.
Peace and Love
Ophelia
I was up early for the ultrasound appointment, making sure I had enough water to drink and taking the higher dose of anti-anxiety meds to get through it. Having (S) come along proved to be a good thing, not just as a safety thing with the increased meds, but also just as a bit of distraction. She did offer to come into the consulting room with me, but I refused... taking our friendship just that step to far into the intimate, methinks. But it was nice of her to offer. I was pretty lucky with the tech that I got. I explained without going into much detail that this was a difficult test for me to have due to past trauma, and she was very good about explaining things step by step, taking it very slow and offering to stop if it got too much. She also tried to engage me by talking throughout the test, although this was not very effective as I found (as a coping mechanism, I think) that I was drifting in and out of the moment. Not full blown dissasociation, but certainly it was there to some degree. Probably exacerbated by the medication. It did trigger a lot of flashback type episodes which continued on after the appointment.
I got home and headed straight off to bed for a little bit, but found that I was pretty damned agitated and resting was pretty impossible. I felt quite disconnected, emotional and fuzzy. (Medication? Flashbacks? Probably a combination of both) I wasn't sure how I was going to handle catching public transport to get to my therapy session. After the brouh-ha a few months ago about missing sessions, I find it pretty hard to justify missing sessions, I never know if its a good enough reason. In the end I called (D) my therapist and she pushed the appointment back a little for me, (S) came to the rescue once again and drove me across town for the appointment. In my eyes it wasn't a very productive session. I spent the majority of it wrapped up in a blanket, and to be honest I don't really remember that much about what we talked about.
It's time to be proactive. The girls stayed last night which was a good way to get me back into the present and stay there. We had a girly night chatting and laughing and then woke up for bacon and eggs this morning. (M) my case manager and I had a phone meeting, which went pretty well. She's pretty pleased with my progress in general, as am I. She is going to make a referral to the employment officer in the service. We also touched briefly on creating a proactive plan for how I am going to deal with "D-Day anniversary" in September. I'm going to have a think about it ( but not dwell!!) Whether I want to just try making it through with a little extra support (phonecalls etc) or whether we should do a planned admission. A lot of it will come down to how I do in general over the next 6 weeks or so. If things remain as stable as they are, perhaps this year the anniversary wont be as much of a struggle.
(D) is going to do a check in call this afternoon, as I wasn't doing so great yesterday. (S) and I are going to catch a movie tomorrow and then I have a shift at RMH on sunday. I'm determined not to let htis hiccup ruin my good streak.
Peace and Love
Ophelia
Wednesday, July 7, 2010
Attacked by a Ninja Nap
Neuro appointment was quite uneventful really. Tests came back proving her hunch that the type of epilepsy I have is Juvenile Myoclonic Epilepsy. Sigh. Juvenile! I am 27 years old! lol. Basically all this means is that I have a combination of myoclonic and tonic clonic seizures, best treated with Epilim (Depakote for those across the pond) which is what I'm already on. She gave me leeway to increase my dose by 500-1000mg a day during times when I am not sleeping etc, which gives me a bit more flexability to manage my own medications. She siad unless I have a significant amount of seizures I don't need to go back for 6 months. But that I am likely to have the odd one. And I will have it, and be on medication for it for the rest of my life.
I stopped by the Pathology offices on the way home, and got the blood work I needed done, and booked in my next appointment with my GP, so a throroughly medical day...blah!
When I got home, I rang up Case Manager (M) to check as to whether she has had chicken pox or not. Alas! She has not, so we changed our face to face meeting on friday to a phone meeting, until time shows whether I am going to come out in spots. Sigh. I also got her to check with PsychDoc (cos I'm responsible like that! :P) whether I could take an increased amount of Serepax tomorrow morning before I go for the ultrasound, to help deal with the inevitable anxiety. Dr F was not in the office, so she asked Dr S the consultant. The male consultant. Embarrassment much? Anyhow. He has approved up to 22.4mg rather than the 7.5mg I would normally take, so hopefully that should help take the edge off. My friend (S) is going to pick me up at 7.50am and take me there, so I'm not wandering around the greater pulic transport system in a drug induced haze. Hopefully I will be able to get a few hours kip between that and my therapy appointment in the afternoon. And then its gleeathon sleepover with the girls. Yea! (M) and Dr S are both pretty pleased with how well I'm going. (M) of course bubbling over with delight in her usual Pollyanna-ish way! I've had to call her twice this week, but both times for housekeeping rather than crisis, much to her delight.
Ok. I'm off to think about tidying the house before the girls rock up tomorrow
Peace and love
xOphelia
Why I'll never use a face mask again!
Therapy has been interesting. (D) and I were talking about how I have been able to contain the unpleasant stuff that's being brought up in therapy to the therapy room. Part of the problem with therapy in the recent past is that when things were brought up in session I have carried them into my outside life, ruminating and growing more depressed and anxious because I become overwhelmed with it all. I had thought that this new ability to contain it could only be a good thing, as it allows me to work on what I need to work on in a safe place, but not carry it with me to a place where I don't have that safety and support. (D) however, queried whether I might be repressing or avoiding the issues outside of therapy. For some reason this caused me to become extremely agitated. I think maybe because I felt a) like "shit, I thought I was doing good... obviously I can't do anything right" and b) annoyed because why does she have to go and mess with a good thing? (D) expanded saying that she just wanted me to be aware that whether I was doing well or not so well, she would not turn away from the parts of me that remembered the distress and hurts, and she didn't want me to either. I'm not really explaining this very well, and to be honest, I found it all a bit confusing myself. The conclusion we came to in the end, is that for the moment I need her to hold that distress for me within the therapeutic frame, because I cannot hold it by myself outside of session and still retain any semblance of balance. So maybe its a little avoidance/repression, but it's working for now. The analogy that comes to my head is that its kind of like keeping a child safe. When they are very young to keep them safe you have to attend to them all the time, leaving you no time to do anything else. Which is why parents will employ safety pens. Still interacting and keeping them safe, but with the ability to turn away and attend to other things, and know that it will still be safe for them. Therapy is the safety pen, and that distressed part of me is not yet able to be left unattended. As I mature emotionally, like the child, the distressed part of me will be able to venture out of the pen and spend less and less time needing to be constantly attended to and monitored. Anyway. Interesting session. Then in todays session we broached the subject of my "being unseen" as a child. Particularly within the mother-daughter relationship. And the way that affects me today. In particular, my automatic assumption that I am doing something wrong. (see above) Basically, she posits that as a result of my mothers post natal depression, my father's abandonment of me as an infant, and my sister's complete ambivalence about my existance (she tried to get rid of me by hiding me behind a wood pile as a baby) that I have come into this world feeling "unseen" and trying to remedy it by being the 'perfect child' and when this failed to make me visible to my family assuming that I was doing something wrong to be unworthy of acknowledgement. The whole idea that family dynamics of my infancy could really have any impact on me today seems a little odd to me still, but as (D) pointed out the dynamics have become set and remain to this day. My sister would certainly try and hide me behind the wood pile today if she could get away with it and she's 29 years old! Lol. And, whilst I think my mother really did 'see' me for the first time when I was in the ICU post overdose (not a great way to be seen and not something I wish to repeat!), I think as time has passed, we've slipped back into those old comfortable dynamics, where I am invisible once again. Anyway, we left it there and will pick it up again on Thursday. Gosh! Therapy makes my brain hurt sometimes, but I feel like we've finally scraped passed the first few superficial layers, not to the core yet, but its progress.
I got a call today from the mother of the kids I've been babysitting, to let me know they've come up with chicken pox. Sigh. First, this means I'm out two days work, because I was supposed to look after them until the end of this week. Second, I have never had chicken pox, so gulp! I've been exposed to it a few times through my work with kids though, so I doubt I'll catch it this time, if I haven't caught it so far. But it has reminded me that I do need to go and get the vaccine. If I catch it, it could take up to 21 days to show up. So, I promptly texted (D) to ask if she had had it (weird conversation to have with your therapist) but sitting in close proximity to her 3 days a week, and not knowing about her life (if she has regular contact with infants, pregnant women or people with suppressed immune system) I figured it was best to ask. I'm pretty sure I won't get it, but I'm going to be a little careful about where I go for the next few weeks, as the most contagious period is apparently before you get the rash.
That being said, I do have a Neurologist appointment and an Ultrasound appointment this week that I can't miss. Neuro is tomorrow. I'm not expecting much out of it. Seizure control not the greatest over the last two months, but this is pretty much directly proportional to fatigue so not suprising. That being said, since I got back from prac seizure control is pretty good, so obviously the medication works, just not in the face of crazy insomnia. Anyway will get the results from the sleep deprived EEG. And PsychDoc wants me to check with Neuro about the possible ramifications of reducing my Serepax (anxiety med) on seizure threshhold. I still have that niggle in the back of my mind after all these years that possibly some of my seizures are pseudoseizures. I have been definitively told by specialist that at least some of my seizures are genuine epileptic seizures. There are certain things I won't go into that help them make that diagnosis. But, as my seizures are at times still medication resistant and as I already know well, I'm a bit of a nutter, I wonder whether some of them may be psychosomatic or stress induced. I can never get a straight answer from Neuro Doc, maybe because they have no real way of telling other than 'catching' a non epileptic seizure whilst EEG monitoring. I don't know why it bothers me, other than the fact that if the breakthrough seizures were pseudoseizures...well then there is a chance I could get rid of them, as medication doesn't seem to be the answer. I don't know, grasping at straws I guess. I try not to let it get me down, but the seizures are disruptive, exhausting and really make me feel out of control, which is not a feeling I deal with well.
I've recruited (S) to drive to me to my ultrasound on Thursday, as I'm planning on taking a lot of medication to get get me through it without a freakout. So probably not a great idea to be on public transport. God, I am cringing just thinking about it. I do have a good friend there though, willing to get up early on her holidays to drive me across town to the hospital for this extremely embarrassing and anxiety provokign test. Thursday night our other friend (SC) is coming into town and the three of us are going to watch the season finale of Glee and have a sleep over (yes, I am 27 and not 14....but meh!) This means the girls will be here when my Case Manager comes around on friday morning (if she still comes, have to check her chicken pox status first) but they can hang out else where in the house for a bit.
All in all still in a reasonable mood. Sleep not perfect but still far better than normal. Biggest disruption at them moment is (you can laugh at me, its pathetic) I did a face mask last friday and had an allergic reaction, which I've never had before. I got it off pretty fast, but I have this welt on my left cheek bone, requiring ample amounts of make up each day, and the top layer of my skin has kind of burnt off on my forehead, cheek bones, under my eyes etc. So, have been using lots of moisturisor and taking make up off as soon as I get home.... but its getting to that itchy stage of healing and driving me nuts at night! Sigh, the stupid things us girls do in the name of beauty! Luckily its not all that noticible under make up....embarrassing much?
Anyway... off to slather on moisturiser and attempt to get some sleep.
Peace and Love
Ophelia.
I got a call today from the mother of the kids I've been babysitting, to let me know they've come up with chicken pox. Sigh. First, this means I'm out two days work, because I was supposed to look after them until the end of this week. Second, I have never had chicken pox, so gulp! I've been exposed to it a few times through my work with kids though, so I doubt I'll catch it this time, if I haven't caught it so far. But it has reminded me that I do need to go and get the vaccine. If I catch it, it could take up to 21 days to show up. So, I promptly texted (D) to ask if she had had it (weird conversation to have with your therapist) but sitting in close proximity to her 3 days a week, and not knowing about her life (if she has regular contact with infants, pregnant women or people with suppressed immune system) I figured it was best to ask. I'm pretty sure I won't get it, but I'm going to be a little careful about where I go for the next few weeks, as the most contagious period is apparently before you get the rash.
That being said, I do have a Neurologist appointment and an Ultrasound appointment this week that I can't miss. Neuro is tomorrow. I'm not expecting much out of it. Seizure control not the greatest over the last two months, but this is pretty much directly proportional to fatigue so not suprising. That being said, since I got back from prac seizure control is pretty good, so obviously the medication works, just not in the face of crazy insomnia. Anyway will get the results from the sleep deprived EEG. And PsychDoc wants me to check with Neuro about the possible ramifications of reducing my Serepax (anxiety med) on seizure threshhold. I still have that niggle in the back of my mind after all these years that possibly some of my seizures are pseudoseizures. I have been definitively told by specialist that at least some of my seizures are genuine epileptic seizures. There are certain things I won't go into that help them make that diagnosis. But, as my seizures are at times still medication resistant and as I already know well, I'm a bit of a nutter, I wonder whether some of them may be psychosomatic or stress induced. I can never get a straight answer from Neuro Doc, maybe because they have no real way of telling other than 'catching' a non epileptic seizure whilst EEG monitoring. I don't know why it bothers me, other than the fact that if the breakthrough seizures were pseudoseizures...well then there is a chance I could get rid of them, as medication doesn't seem to be the answer. I don't know, grasping at straws I guess. I try not to let it get me down, but the seizures are disruptive, exhausting and really make me feel out of control, which is not a feeling I deal with well.
I've recruited (S) to drive to me to my ultrasound on Thursday, as I'm planning on taking a lot of medication to get get me through it without a freakout. So probably not a great idea to be on public transport. God, I am cringing just thinking about it. I do have a good friend there though, willing to get up early on her holidays to drive me across town to the hospital for this extremely embarrassing and anxiety provokign test. Thursday night our other friend (SC) is coming into town and the three of us are going to watch the season finale of Glee and have a sleep over (yes, I am 27 and not 14....but meh!) This means the girls will be here when my Case Manager comes around on friday morning (if she still comes, have to check her chicken pox status first) but they can hang out else where in the house for a bit.
All in all still in a reasonable mood. Sleep not perfect but still far better than normal. Biggest disruption at them moment is (you can laugh at me, its pathetic) I did a face mask last friday and had an allergic reaction, which I've never had before. I got it off pretty fast, but I have this welt on my left cheek bone, requiring ample amounts of make up each day, and the top layer of my skin has kind of burnt off on my forehead, cheek bones, under my eyes etc. So, have been using lots of moisturisor and taking make up off as soon as I get home.... but its getting to that itchy stage of healing and driving me nuts at night! Sigh, the stupid things us girls do in the name of beauty! Luckily its not all that noticible under make up....embarrassing much?
Anyway... off to slather on moisturiser and attempt to get some sleep.
Peace and Love
Ophelia.
Friday, June 18, 2010
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
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
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
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!"
Thursday, April 1, 2010
Just plain scary
I guess "normal" is a subjective thing in any context, but probably especially to mental health professionals. In the last few months I have definately had some experiences that fall outside the realm of normal for me. Things that make me feel like I may actually be losing my mind. In particular, hallucinations (though these do seem to be linked to periods of extreme deprivation and seem quite benign when one considers what a hallucination could be.... its more shadows in my peripheral visions, strange patterns dancing off the wall and carpets ect) and dissociative states. Up until today, I would have said that I have experienced dissociative states beyond that which an average person would...we all do it, some of us just do it better than others I guess. Particulalrly in periods of real stress, ie after a horrible session, i would have no real memory of how I got home or what I'd been doing...it was like a mist I would slowly emerge from. But if I thought really hard, i could pinpoint the pertinenet details. Maybe not conversations, but yes, I saw that person. Maybe not how long, but I was in the Park for a while stuff like that. Until today. Today I blacked out an entire hour and a half, and I honestly have no recollection of what went on. I have evidence. (A new tooth in my mouth and an appointment for next month) but I went from lying in the dentist chair, beginning to panic, to being at home sitting on my bed, with an aching jaw and no idea how I got there. Just Blank. I even checked my medication to check i hadn't taken something. And frankly it scared the living shite out of me. Because I must have appeared normal-ish to the dentist or they would have kept me there. Or called someone. So "me" can leave my mind for an hour and a half and have some other seperate part of me take over, and no one notices?
I spoke to (K) and finally to (D) and (D) reassured me that everyone dissociates and whilst this was an extreme example it didn't mean I was going nuts. In fact given my fear of dentisits (not the pain, just feeling trapped and having things shoved in my mouth....flashbacks...enough said), given that I was alreasy under a wee bit of stress because the new attempt with efexor was not going to plan (same reaction, vertigo, but we're going to push on and see if it abates) and given that in general it has been a stressful few weeks, and there are a lot of changes coming up... it is quite understandable that it would happen. Rationally, I see her point, just as I did about the hallucinations, just as I do about the 'voices'.
But there is another part of me that thinks voices+hallucinations+losing periods of time is pretty much just leading me toward a nice cosy padded cell. It may be normal, expected or understandable to them, but to me it is just plain scary
I spoke to (K) and finally to (D) and (D) reassured me that everyone dissociates and whilst this was an extreme example it didn't mean I was going nuts. In fact given my fear of dentisits (not the pain, just feeling trapped and having things shoved in my mouth....flashbacks...enough said), given that I was alreasy under a wee bit of stress because the new attempt with efexor was not going to plan (same reaction, vertigo, but we're going to push on and see if it abates) and given that in general it has been a stressful few weeks, and there are a lot of changes coming up... it is quite understandable that it would happen. Rationally, I see her point, just as I did about the hallucinations, just as I do about the 'voices'.
But there is another part of me that thinks voices+hallucinations+losing periods of time is pretty much just leading me toward a nice cosy padded cell. It may be normal, expected or understandable to them, but to me it is just plain scary
Saturday, March 27, 2010
Weird or what?
Health related, not mental health related. So, living in Australia, land of skin cancer, and being a fair-skinned red head (at least I think that's my hair colour, I have been dyeing it since I was 14, so am a little unsure as to what the natural colour really is now....) I have to keep an eye on moles etc. My Aunt had a very nasty melanoma cut out years ago, so we have had the whole sun safety thing drilled into us. I get them checked once in a while by my GP. However, I noticed about a week or so ago, my body seems to have "eaten" a mole. That is...there was a mole on my chest, and now there is just a white circle where the mole used to reside....Hmmm... does this constitute a change requiring a checkup? They say if they change shape or colour...they don't say anything about if they just fecking dissappear on you! Maybe I should make appointment with GP just in case.
Mental Health related. Well, kinda shite. Lil sis, off to the coast for the weekend. Me, alone in the house with cats and thought gremlins....and liquor. Got a little drunk last night, just to mute the voices in my head a little. Wee bit of self harm... Not good. Up today. Did housework, gardening, headed off to BBQ. Spoke with (D) Worried about being home alone again tonight. Spoke through my options and decided to give it a try, with some caveats. No drinking. Check in via phone with a friend later tonight. Brunch still on for tomorrow. Am being well behaved. And the thought gremlins are kicking my arse for it!
Am off to read some blogs, drink my milo and cuddle my cat
Mental Health related. Well, kinda shite. Lil sis, off to the coast for the weekend. Me, alone in the house with cats and thought gremlins....and liquor. Got a little drunk last night, just to mute the voices in my head a little. Wee bit of self harm... Not good. Up today. Did housework, gardening, headed off to BBQ. Spoke with (D) Worried about being home alone again tonight. Spoke through my options and decided to give it a try, with some caveats. No drinking. Check in via phone with a friend later tonight. Brunch still on for tomorrow. Am being well behaved. And the thought gremlins are kicking my arse for it!
Am off to read some blogs, drink my milo and cuddle my cat
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
Containment
Today was my first additional session. I'll now be seeing (D) on Tuesdays as well as Mondays and Thursdays. I'm still not 100% sure on the third session schizzle, but it has already begun to show some positives, I think. (D) explained to me, that she often doesn't know how hard to push me, because the minute that the conversation turns to uncomfortable topics, I will say I don't want to talk about it right now. But I'll also say that about things that I truly am not ready to talk about at all, and that may very well cause a meltdown. Quite snarkily, I asked her what conclusion she reached, and she replied that she thinks its probably best to push me. As much as I hate it, she is probably right. I think that is partially why progress has stalled, because she lets me get out of talking about a lot of stuff I should be talking about. So yesterday and today, she would not let me deflect or change the topic. And yes, it was horribly uncomfortable and somewhat upsetting at times, but, because I knew it would only be a day or two at most before I would see her again, I was able to leave those feelings somewhat in therapy, rather than take them with me. So, yeah, "Containment 2010", is working...sigh
Tomorrow, I am catching up with Consumer Advocate (K) for coffee, and then back to therapy on Thursday, so the week is pretty structured. My friend (S) has been coming around a fair bit too, just to watch TV or eat dinner after work, because she knows that I need a little bit of company at the moment to stop me from withdrawing back inside.
Next week the Uni Semester starts up again, and I'm once again enrolled in two subjects. One is a prac subject (5 weeks of teaching). At this point I am unsure whether I will be able to make it through 5 weeks of full time work (more actually if you count the huge amounts of prep work) The Disability Officer at the Uni is trying to negotiate so that I can have one day off in the middle of each week, and just do an additional week at the end. But the faculty is resisting. Will just have to see how it goes. Still pulling together the necessary paperwork to get the uncompleted subjects from last semester dropped without academic or financial penalty. Is quite the process!
In that mode, have been trying to get a hold of Case Manager (M) since the end of last week, to get some paperwork from the psychiatrist for my claim at the uni. Finally got a call this afternoon, and as I understand it she had been out of the centre for most of the afternoon, and it was quite close to leaving time, but felt somewhat brushed off. I'm probably being unreasonable, and I know in part, I am overly sensitive to picking up "signs" that people are obviously sick of having to deal with me, pissed off with me etc. I tend to find problems where there aren't any. And realistically, she knows I am seeing (D) three times a week, and thus fairly well taken care of. It doesn't even matter really that it has taken her a while to get back to me, on a few occasion over the last few weeks because essentially my questions have either been "household stuff" like letters or scripts, or else, I have figured out ways to deal with whatever little emotional blow-out I am having myself. And I never specify my messages as urgent, because I don't really think there are. It just makes me feel a bit uneasy that if it was urgent, I still might have trouble getting a hold of her. Which is once again, probably unfair, because she has always gotten back to me quickly on urgent matters, and it would be my responsability to make sure it was clear if it was an urgent call. Anyway. Just makes me a little nervous, but I'm being silly.
Got two new appointments in the mail today, one for the Psych in about a fortnight and one for the Neuro at the end of the month.
I'm doing ok-ish at the moment. Starting to make tiny moves into going back into the world, I hope it lasts a bit longer this time!
Tomorrow, I am catching up with Consumer Advocate (K) for coffee, and then back to therapy on Thursday, so the week is pretty structured. My friend (S) has been coming around a fair bit too, just to watch TV or eat dinner after work, because she knows that I need a little bit of company at the moment to stop me from withdrawing back inside.
Next week the Uni Semester starts up again, and I'm once again enrolled in two subjects. One is a prac subject (5 weeks of teaching). At this point I am unsure whether I will be able to make it through 5 weeks of full time work (more actually if you count the huge amounts of prep work) The Disability Officer at the Uni is trying to negotiate so that I can have one day off in the middle of each week, and just do an additional week at the end. But the faculty is resisting. Will just have to see how it goes. Still pulling together the necessary paperwork to get the uncompleted subjects from last semester dropped without academic or financial penalty. Is quite the process!
In that mode, have been trying to get a hold of Case Manager (M) since the end of last week, to get some paperwork from the psychiatrist for my claim at the uni. Finally got a call this afternoon, and as I understand it she had been out of the centre for most of the afternoon, and it was quite close to leaving time, but felt somewhat brushed off. I'm probably being unreasonable, and I know in part, I am overly sensitive to picking up "signs" that people are obviously sick of having to deal with me, pissed off with me etc. I tend to find problems where there aren't any. And realistically, she knows I am seeing (D) three times a week, and thus fairly well taken care of. It doesn't even matter really that it has taken her a while to get back to me, on a few occasion over the last few weeks because essentially my questions have either been "household stuff" like letters or scripts, or else, I have figured out ways to deal with whatever little emotional blow-out I am having myself. And I never specify my messages as urgent, because I don't really think there are. It just makes me feel a bit uneasy that if it was urgent, I still might have trouble getting a hold of her. Which is once again, probably unfair, because she has always gotten back to me quickly on urgent matters, and it would be my responsability to make sure it was clear if it was an urgent call. Anyway. Just makes me a little nervous, but I'm being silly.
Got two new appointments in the mail today, one for the Psych in about a fortnight and one for the Neuro at the end of the month.
I'm doing ok-ish at the moment. Starting to make tiny moves into going back into the world, I hope it lasts a bit longer this time!
Thursday, February 18, 2010
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.
Monday, February 15, 2010
On the ward and out of my mind- I'm Bored!!!!!
Ok.. well it appears I won't be sleeping any time soon, so I might as well continue with these posts. See part one here and part two here.
Once you are confined to a MH ward there is not a lot to do, other than sit and think. And the last thing they want you doing is thinking! So they have a little schedule they run through each day to keep the crazies happy. Ward B "OT" time was not run by a qualified OT, rather two Recreation Officers, ( read nurse who got sick of nursing and decided to spend the rest of her career beading and sum dood with no neck who liked to take the male patients down to the gym to bond and got sulky if a female patient, say, thought she might like to go for a run on the treadmill.)
Morning meetings started at 8.30am every morning. The R.O. would first take meal orders, introduce new patients, and take care of housekeeping. It was also an opportunity for patients air minor grievances. The R.O. would then write the schedule for the day, and take names for excursions and banking, as well as the Centrelink lady who came in once a week to help clients sort their benefits out. We would then do the Petal Puzzle from the paper (word puzzle) together and then scatter back out to the courtyard to smoke. Some people were very vocal in these meetings, a great deal of us were pretty quiet. The only time I really spoke was during the Petal Puzzle, the only real form of intellectual stimulation I was getting.
Some activities were regular. Gentle exercise on Monday and Thursdays, which I had to attend because my lovely Physio (S) came down to run it, and she thought it would be good for my physical rehab. Of course, to rub in the humiliation of being the only one under 50 doing it (the younger patients pissed off outside for a smoke, and spent the whole hour staring through the glass and laughing) I also had to wear the belt. The belt is a thick canvas thing that velcro's and buckles around your waist with handles on the side or at the back. Its used in Rehab for patients who are learning to balance and walk again, so the physios have something solid and strong to grab if you start to fall. On Wednesday lunch they took the bus to a local Mental Health Clubhouse that hosted a wednesday lunch for $2. The idea was to introduce patients to other service users and the facility, so that when they were discharged they had community support. I think its a great concept, just not for me.. I found it kind of creepy and depressing.
Other activities during the morning might include escorts to the gym, morning sing along (yeah... I said it...sing along!) Volleyball tournaments against Ward A. In the afternoon while male RO did shopping/banking for patients female RO did art, sewing, beading, trivia games. I must admit I actually did enjoy beading, not elaborate stuff, the precisness of it just appealed to my slightly OCD side.
This schedule was repeated week in, week out . Which was great if like most people on Ward B you were there for a short stay. (2 days average for an OD, 4-7 days for most other stuff) The only long termers like me were the geriatrics and one woman who I never found out what was wrong with. She was in her 30's but literally would not move or look at anyone. She just stayed where she was put and stared off into whatever world she was in. She was pretty, her husband came to visit her regulalry and I always felt quite sorry for him....and her too, of course. The point is Ward B was a temporary stop for most people, the long termers ended up on Ward A. But somehow, I, as a long termer, ended up on Ward B. And there is only so much beading one can do!
Occasionally, the week would be shaken up by an exciting once off activity. BBQ in the park, bus trip to local national park and dam (they drove us through mcdonalds drive through and got us soft serve cones on the way back...giggle...) Other times we would head over to Ward A for social time and a bbq
Interspersed with 'activities' were workshops. Patients were 'strongly encouraged' to attend ones that the nurse or doctor thought relevant to their current issue. I got shoulder tapped for the anxiety one. I also got bullied into the relaxation class, which I walked out of after a few minutes. I find a lot of relaxation strategies to actually be quite triggering and make me quite agitated. The workshops were all very short, language aimed at the lowest common denominator and of course had a very heavy CBT bent. Out of boredom, I believe I probably attended all of the workshops over the course of the two months (they cycled through on a two week rotation) including ones that were clearly not apllicable to me at times. the staff tolerated this as I sat quietly and they didn't really know what else to do with me.
After a month or so it hit me, that no matter how lame the activity was, if i just grinned and beared it, it looked good in my notes and put me closer to discharge, so I threw myself in, barely concealing my disdain and trying not to ark up at the patronising undertones. Even (I'm ashamed to admit it) the sing alongs. I learnt that you had to play the game. Paint happy pictures, sing "You are my sunshine" and look damn well excited to be doing it.
Even with the reasonably full weekly activites, the weekends stretched on for ever, as there were no RO's on. I accumulated a plethora of art supplies (with sketch pads I didn't have to show anybody, I took up crocheting (also recommended as part of my "Fine Motor" rehab. I wore my MP3 player constantly. I spent weekends using a collection of Dr Seuss books that I had borrowed from the kids I used to nanny for, to try and prod my brain into remembering how to read again. I practiced writing with the sheets the OT from my rehab team supplied for me, as well as worksheets to improve my 'scanning' capabilities.
In addition to the activites on the ward, I was also doing a lot of rehab work. Aside from the stuff I mentioned above. I would have an individual session with (S) the Physio every day or two, as well as attending Balance and Movement group classes and Fine Motor Classed (mostly populated by patients who had suffered a stroke or had a hip replacement. I had speech and OT every few days. My designated nurse for each shift would also come and run through a series of exercise designed by (S) for 10 minutes or so each shift. They particularly liked the ones where they got to try and push me over (while sitting on a bed) so that I could practise using my core muscles. Some got a little over enthusiastic with this one! I think perhaps working out the frustration of their shift.
During my time in hospital and even as an outpatient (S) was my lifeline. She didn't take any bullshit. When I yelled at her, she yelled right on back. But she also seemed to know where my breaking point was, how hard to push me. She was honest about what she thought my recovery time would be (two years... she was pretty close, I last used my walking stick 22 months later) And she gave me something to focus on. I couldn't do anything to 'fix' my mind, but if I worked hard I could undo the damage I had done to my body. She was never judgemental, even when I complained, despite the fact I had done it to myself. I pretty devastated when a year into my physio she went off early on maternity leave. But I am eternally thankful for compassion and firmness she demonstrated in that first year. She was also a great advocate. When she found out that the room I was in had not been equipped with the necessary equipment she has requested she got it sorted straight away. Within 10 minutes I had the toilet chair, shower bench and transfer chair I needed in my room.
Ok. So moving onto Big City Hospital Program. I have been hospitalised there three times for periods from one week to two and a half weeks. And there activity program includes....erm... not a lot. They do have an RO, but she tends to set random activities up in the dining room, without letting people know she's doing it, so unless you happen to walk through you don't know its on. These activites are mainly arts and craft, beading, sewing and once cooking. So not a lot for the average male to do. But I'm a girl and I liked beading. I just managed to miss it most days. They also occasionally brought a Wii out to play. Other than that, no morning meetings, no real scheduled activities, no workshops, no trips. Just hours of sitting in a depressing, concrete courtyard chain smoking. Once again, my MP3 player was my friend. My own art supplies. And a stack of books. (Yes, I did get the hang of reading again). There aren't even any books or bookshelves in the ward, just hideously out of date, lame women's mags. I wanted to dontate some books, but there is no shelf.
Anyways. Next I will probably talk about MH professionals. When I have the energy to write it up.
Once you are confined to a MH ward there is not a lot to do, other than sit and think. And the last thing they want you doing is thinking! So they have a little schedule they run through each day to keep the crazies happy. Ward B "OT" time was not run by a qualified OT, rather two Recreation Officers, ( read nurse who got sick of nursing and decided to spend the rest of her career beading and sum dood with no neck who liked to take the male patients down to the gym to bond and got sulky if a female patient, say, thought she might like to go for a run on the treadmill.)
Morning meetings started at 8.30am every morning. The R.O. would first take meal orders, introduce new patients, and take care of housekeeping. It was also an opportunity for patients air minor grievances. The R.O. would then write the schedule for the day, and take names for excursions and banking, as well as the Centrelink lady who came in once a week to help clients sort their benefits out. We would then do the Petal Puzzle from the paper (word puzzle) together and then scatter back out to the courtyard to smoke. Some people were very vocal in these meetings, a great deal of us were pretty quiet. The only time I really spoke was during the Petal Puzzle, the only real form of intellectual stimulation I was getting.
Some activities were regular. Gentle exercise on Monday and Thursdays, which I had to attend because my lovely Physio (S) came down to run it, and she thought it would be good for my physical rehab. Of course, to rub in the humiliation of being the only one under 50 doing it (the younger patients pissed off outside for a smoke, and spent the whole hour staring through the glass and laughing) I also had to wear the belt. The belt is a thick canvas thing that velcro's and buckles around your waist with handles on the side or at the back. Its used in Rehab for patients who are learning to balance and walk again, so the physios have something solid and strong to grab if you start to fall. On Wednesday lunch they took the bus to a local Mental Health Clubhouse that hosted a wednesday lunch for $2. The idea was to introduce patients to other service users and the facility, so that when they were discharged they had community support. I think its a great concept, just not for me.. I found it kind of creepy and depressing.
Other activities during the morning might include escorts to the gym, morning sing along (yeah... I said it...sing along!) Volleyball tournaments against Ward A. In the afternoon while male RO did shopping/banking for patients female RO did art, sewing, beading, trivia games. I must admit I actually did enjoy beading, not elaborate stuff, the precisness of it just appealed to my slightly OCD side.
This schedule was repeated week in, week out . Which was great if like most people on Ward B you were there for a short stay. (2 days average for an OD, 4-7 days for most other stuff) The only long termers like me were the geriatrics and one woman who I never found out what was wrong with. She was in her 30's but literally would not move or look at anyone. She just stayed where she was put and stared off into whatever world she was in. She was pretty, her husband came to visit her regulalry and I always felt quite sorry for him....and her too, of course. The point is Ward B was a temporary stop for most people, the long termers ended up on Ward A. But somehow, I, as a long termer, ended up on Ward B. And there is only so much beading one can do!
Occasionally, the week would be shaken up by an exciting once off activity. BBQ in the park, bus trip to local national park and dam (they drove us through mcdonalds drive through and got us soft serve cones on the way back...giggle...) Other times we would head over to Ward A for social time and a bbq
Interspersed with 'activities' were workshops. Patients were 'strongly encouraged' to attend ones that the nurse or doctor thought relevant to their current issue. I got shoulder tapped for the anxiety one. I also got bullied into the relaxation class, which I walked out of after a few minutes. I find a lot of relaxation strategies to actually be quite triggering and make me quite agitated. The workshops were all very short, language aimed at the lowest common denominator and of course had a very heavy CBT bent. Out of boredom, I believe I probably attended all of the workshops over the course of the two months (they cycled through on a two week rotation) including ones that were clearly not apllicable to me at times. the staff tolerated this as I sat quietly and they didn't really know what else to do with me.
After a month or so it hit me, that no matter how lame the activity was, if i just grinned and beared it, it looked good in my notes and put me closer to discharge, so I threw myself in, barely concealing my disdain and trying not to ark up at the patronising undertones. Even (I'm ashamed to admit it) the sing alongs. I learnt that you had to play the game. Paint happy pictures, sing "You are my sunshine" and look damn well excited to be doing it.
Even with the reasonably full weekly activites, the weekends stretched on for ever, as there were no RO's on. I accumulated a plethora of art supplies (with sketch pads I didn't have to show anybody, I took up crocheting (also recommended as part of my "Fine Motor" rehab. I wore my MP3 player constantly. I spent weekends using a collection of Dr Seuss books that I had borrowed from the kids I used to nanny for, to try and prod my brain into remembering how to read again. I practiced writing with the sheets the OT from my rehab team supplied for me, as well as worksheets to improve my 'scanning' capabilities.
In addition to the activites on the ward, I was also doing a lot of rehab work. Aside from the stuff I mentioned above. I would have an individual session with (S) the Physio every day or two, as well as attending Balance and Movement group classes and Fine Motor Classed (mostly populated by patients who had suffered a stroke or had a hip replacement. I had speech and OT every few days. My designated nurse for each shift would also come and run through a series of exercise designed by (S) for 10 minutes or so each shift. They particularly liked the ones where they got to try and push me over (while sitting on a bed) so that I could practise using my core muscles. Some got a little over enthusiastic with this one! I think perhaps working out the frustration of their shift.
During my time in hospital and even as an outpatient (S) was my lifeline. She didn't take any bullshit. When I yelled at her, she yelled right on back. But she also seemed to know where my breaking point was, how hard to push me. She was honest about what she thought my recovery time would be (two years... she was pretty close, I last used my walking stick 22 months later) And she gave me something to focus on. I couldn't do anything to 'fix' my mind, but if I worked hard I could undo the damage I had done to my body. She was never judgemental, even when I complained, despite the fact I had done it to myself. I pretty devastated when a year into my physio she went off early on maternity leave. But I am eternally thankful for compassion and firmness she demonstrated in that first year. She was also a great advocate. When she found out that the room I was in had not been equipped with the necessary equipment she has requested she got it sorted straight away. Within 10 minutes I had the toilet chair, shower bench and transfer chair I needed in my room.
Ok. So moving onto Big City Hospital Program. I have been hospitalised there three times for periods from one week to two and a half weeks. And there activity program includes....erm... not a lot. They do have an RO, but she tends to set random activities up in the dining room, without letting people know she's doing it, so unless you happen to walk through you don't know its on. These activites are mainly arts and craft, beading, sewing and once cooking. So not a lot for the average male to do. But I'm a girl and I liked beading. I just managed to miss it most days. They also occasionally brought a Wii out to play. Other than that, no morning meetings, no real scheduled activities, no workshops, no trips. Just hours of sitting in a depressing, concrete courtyard chain smoking. Once again, my MP3 player was my friend. My own art supplies. And a stack of books. (Yes, I did get the hang of reading again). There aren't even any books or bookshelves in the ward, just hideously out of date, lame women's mags. I wanted to dontate some books, but there is no shelf.
Anyways. Next I will probably talk about MH professionals. When I have the energy to write it up.
Friday, February 12, 2010
I got what I wanted and I don't want it anymore
I got what I wanted. Finally, after all the drama and crowding and visitors staying, for the first time since I got out of hospital, I got the house to myself. Lil Sis is away down the coast until Monday. Big Sis is away for the night and should be going home on Sunday anyway. I spent all day, counting down the hours until they left, fantasising about the peace and quiet, tuning into the classical stations, maybe lounging around watching tv or doing some painting, blissfully and wonderfully alone.
But... they left, and I got some company to replace them. The 'Voice" kicked into overdrive. Freedom and an empty house was apparently too much of a temptation. I can cut without having to worry about anyone walking in on me, I can drink without worrying about detecting, all in the vain hopes of ignoring the central message from the "Voice". "Now is your chance, nobody home for the next day at least, nobody to accidentally find you, to call an ambulance. Do it now" Strong suicidal ideation, flirting with visions of a fistfuls of medication, swigs of vodka and full bathtub.
I don't know why. I mean, no, these thoughts and feelings didn't magically dissappear after "Horrible Thursday". But I guess, I had so much else that needed to be dealt with, that there wasn't so much time to stew. I honestly, was just looking forward to a nice quiet evening alone, and then bam! it all hits me, seemingly from nowhere. I suppose a big part of it on a subconcious level at least, is that I literally haven't been alone in over two weeks now, so limits the opportunities. So, I am viewing this a knee jerk reaction and trying to ride the waves as best I can. There has been some minimal SI and a little drinking. I tried to call therapist earlier, but could not get through. I left a message explaining the issue, but have not heard back. We have a planned check in phone call tomorrow, so I guess I'll just hold out for that. Problem is, I left a message, which means she'll be apprised of the issue, and ask me how I managed to work through it without support. And I don't really want to tell her I resorted to some unhealthy coping strategies. I feel like if I tell her that, it kind of sounds like, "I couldn't reach you, so I decided to slash myself" Which I guess is partially the truth, but makes it sound like "Why weren't you available when I needed you?" when in reality, I have always been fully aware that as a solo practioner, unless we have prearranged a contact time, and it is generally within business hours, she may not be available all the time by phone. I understand that. That's why we got Public Mental Health involved. But Case Manager (M) is of course only available 9-5, Mon - Fri. And although there is a Triage Line, it is staffed by people I don't know, who don't know me..and I find it incredibly difficult to talk in this situation. Naturally, the times when I am most likely to crack up, are evenings and nights, when the MH support I am comfortable with, is for the most part unavailable.
Anyway. It does kind of validate one thing that she said, about containment, and phone calls providing me with less of a feeling of having to struggle through on my own. I may not have got a hold of her tonight, but I know she will be calling tomorrow, so I just have to hold out until then. By that point I'll either feel a bit better, or I can talk to her about it. 12-14 hours isn't that far off. But if I had to wait until Monday at 3.30pm, it would be a lot harder to keep myself together.
My biggest fear, is that this is my knee jerk reaction, not just to being alone, but to being alone for a long enough period, that I can act on impulses without any risk of discovery. Up until this point lil sis was usually in the house most evenings and nights, or else her ex and his brother were, which was somewhat of a discouraging factor. Now it looks like little sis will probably head to the coast most weekends, which leaves me with a lot of opportunity, at least until we get a housemate. Sigh. So, hanging in there. I got what I wanted...not so sure I want it anymore.
But... they left, and I got some company to replace them. The 'Voice" kicked into overdrive. Freedom and an empty house was apparently too much of a temptation. I can cut without having to worry about anyone walking in on me, I can drink without worrying about detecting, all in the vain hopes of ignoring the central message from the "Voice". "Now is your chance, nobody home for the next day at least, nobody to accidentally find you, to call an ambulance. Do it now" Strong suicidal ideation, flirting with visions of a fistfuls of medication, swigs of vodka and full bathtub.
I don't know why. I mean, no, these thoughts and feelings didn't magically dissappear after "Horrible Thursday". But I guess, I had so much else that needed to be dealt with, that there wasn't so much time to stew. I honestly, was just looking forward to a nice quiet evening alone, and then bam! it all hits me, seemingly from nowhere. I suppose a big part of it on a subconcious level at least, is that I literally haven't been alone in over two weeks now, so limits the opportunities. So, I am viewing this a knee jerk reaction and trying to ride the waves as best I can. There has been some minimal SI and a little drinking. I tried to call therapist earlier, but could not get through. I left a message explaining the issue, but have not heard back. We have a planned check in phone call tomorrow, so I guess I'll just hold out for that. Problem is, I left a message, which means she'll be apprised of the issue, and ask me how I managed to work through it without support. And I don't really want to tell her I resorted to some unhealthy coping strategies. I feel like if I tell her that, it kind of sounds like, "I couldn't reach you, so I decided to slash myself" Which I guess is partially the truth, but makes it sound like "Why weren't you available when I needed you?" when in reality, I have always been fully aware that as a solo practioner, unless we have prearranged a contact time, and it is generally within business hours, she may not be available all the time by phone. I understand that. That's why we got Public Mental Health involved. But Case Manager (M) is of course only available 9-5, Mon - Fri. And although there is a Triage Line, it is staffed by people I don't know, who don't know me..and I find it incredibly difficult to talk in this situation. Naturally, the times when I am most likely to crack up, are evenings and nights, when the MH support I am comfortable with, is for the most part unavailable.
Anyway. It does kind of validate one thing that she said, about containment, and phone calls providing me with less of a feeling of having to struggle through on my own. I may not have got a hold of her tonight, but I know she will be calling tomorrow, so I just have to hold out until then. By that point I'll either feel a bit better, or I can talk to her about it. 12-14 hours isn't that far off. But if I had to wait until Monday at 3.30pm, it would be a lot harder to keep myself together.
My biggest fear, is that this is my knee jerk reaction, not just to being alone, but to being alone for a long enough period, that I can act on impulses without any risk of discovery. Up until this point lil sis was usually in the house most evenings and nights, or else her ex and his brother were, which was somewhat of a discouraging factor. Now it looks like little sis will probably head to the coast most weekends, which leaves me with a lot of opportunity, at least until we get a housemate. Sigh. So, hanging in there. I got what I wanted...not so sure I want it anymore.
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
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
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
Monday, February 8, 2010
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.
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.
Saturday, February 6, 2010
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!
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.
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