You'd better watch out!

The ornaments are out, carols are playing ad nauseum and Santa waits patiently, in the middle of every suburban shopping centre, as irate children are placed on his lap bawling and pulling his beard. (Does anyone else find it unsuprising so many kids are terrified of santa. Here, kid, sit on the lap of this complete stranger, who is wearing a fake beard and kind of smells like whiskey. Oh, and by the way, he'll breaking into our house on Christmas eve but don't worry cos its Santa! Yes, I was an over thinker as a child too. If Santa can get in through the keyhole (we didn't have a chimney....than who knows who else can?) Christmas is definately coming, they scream at us, even though its only early November

Is it weird that I am already starting to worry about taking a break from therapy over christmas? I blame the damned shopping malls! I've already had a little trial run by missing my Thursday session last week, which had its benefits (I am studiously avoiding talking about a particular issue with (D) at the moment, and so I kind of ran away to the beach for a week) But it was an unsettling experience to have such a gap between seeing her, and that's only a gap of a week. I seem to find a certain containment in not going any longer than 3 or 4 days tops without seeing her. Even when I was in hospital she rang me every couple of days. And the thing is, I am assuming my case manager will be off over the xmas period, and probably Consumer Advocate (K) too.... which leaves me with the PA triage line. And my family... at Xmas... when everybody gets hot, then cranky, then drunk, then resentful.....then sometimes ( most times) down right nasty. Is it strange that I am aready starting to stress about it... am I pre-empting it to turn out a certain way with my negative attitude? I don't know. What I do know is that I am stressed about the break from therapy, which then in turn makes me so angry at myself, because it is so pathetic and dependent. I need to build the resilience to weather these times on my own.

Christmas? Bah Humbug!

Sisters

My little sister (A) broke down in tears tonight. And as the tears welled up in her eyes she began telling me her story. It was a familiar story. The story of our mother, our aunt, our grandmother. She met her partner when she was quite young. 17, in fact. They've been together 6 years. She tried to break up with him last year by moving to my town to live with me. But after not so long, he moved down too and she took him back. She stayed with him because it was all she knew, she stayed with him because she didn't want to hurt him, she stayed with him because she was scared she wouldn't find someone else to love her, she stayed with him because she didn't want to be alone. But she told me tonight, as the tears began flowing, she has never felt as alone as she does now, with him. It's a generational thing in our family, the willingness to settle for unhappiness in a relationship rather than alone. That's what kept my mother with my abusive stepfather for so long. I have, in many respects, been rather the black sheep of the family in this respect. I would rather be alone, than be in a relationship I wasn't happy in. My willingness to stay single (although the roots of this willlingness are far too complex to delve into in this post) have always been somewhat of an bewildering concept for my family members. But, back to (A). Her partner isn't abusive, he can be somewhat emotionally manipulative but then she can be quite cold and incisive. She just feels as though it isnt working. As she told me that she was at the point where she was beginning to no longer see the purpose of life anymore, get up, go to work, home to a broken relationship, sleep and then do the same thing over and over again, ad infinitum, I began to hear another familiar story. My story. That point at the beginning swell of a wave of depression, where life just seems to lose its sense of importance and purpose. And it shook me. Its an over reaction. She is not suicdal, nor probably even clinically depressed. She is experiencing a situational depression, probably somewhat exacerbated by her inability to communicate her feelings very well ( her legacy from the house of horrors we called our childhood) But nonetheless it shook me. Because she is my baby sister, I would and have given my life and soul to protect her. I don't want this black demon on her back too. It has made me so proud to watch her grow from the turmoil of our past to turn herself into a driven, level headed and successful individual. I have often joked that I want to be like her when I grow up. But, now was the time she needed for me to be her big sister. I had to put my own irrational fears aside. I had to tell myself that she was ok, that this was an understandable period of unhappiness and then I had to do what she needed me to do. Listen. Simply listen. Not wrap her up in my arms and protect her, not solve the problem. Just listen. So I did. I asked how long she had felt like this, I asked what I could do. She has decided (to my suprise given her character) to see a counsellor, just to try and sort out what her feelings are, gain some perspective, and maybe (hopefully) deal with some of the issue she has from her childhood. She wants me to get a referral from my therapist to somebody she thinks would be good. And I can do this. I can in someways protect her again. And I'm glad. But still, worried, always worried, after all she is my baby sister and thats what big sisters are for.

Alone and angry

The problem with developing therapeutic relationships with your various peeps in the mental health teams, is that you come to rely on it a little too much. In many ways, its a wonderful thing to be able to rely on somebody to help you sort out those nasty gremlins or simply talk you down when you are spinning out. Somebody who is experienced, somebody who can help carry the burden for a little while, when you feel to weary to go on, somebody who you begin to feel (unlike your family friends) can handle it, without it being too much of an emotional infringement on them.

And why, is it not an enfringement? Simply... boundaries. The boundaries of time and space, the boundaries of a professional relationship. My crisis plan allows for me to reach out if needed to a variety of different people both on the public team and my private psych (D). And this works well if my little spin outs happen between 9-5, Monday-Friday. I can talk to Case Manager (M), try and get a hold of (D) between appointments or even try to get a hold of consumer consultant (K). Its still very hard some times for me to reach out to these people at times, I feel like I am being a burden. I feel like I should be able to buffer my own emotions and draw on my own resiliency in times of stress. But I have begun to, and benefited from access to these people in times of crisis.

The big issue for me is the times after 5pm or on the weekend. The plan wold have me call upn a crisis line that is staffed by mental health professionals. But these are not the people that I have slowly and delicately begun to build trust in. These are not the people who already know some of my stories. I try it, but it just doesn't work. Of course, I can always try (D) after hours but the few times I have done this, she has either been unavailable or else if available, I just feel so incredibley guilty for interrupting 'her time.'

So, relevance? Well its happening right now. Its late on a friday night, and I am panicing, I am having serious thoughts of self harm... I am so angry with myself, and I don't know what to do with it. So I want to cut, badly, even though I've managed to not do it in years, the urge is there, and the urge is strong. But I just can't seem to contemplate ringing the crisis line, and I don't want to ring (D) and interrupt her weekend.

So it time to pull myself together, draw on my own strength, and suck it up....

Run and Hide

Ok...so when I said no internet access for a week, I forgot about the beloved Golden Arches. I am in McDonalds Cafe stealing their internets!

Reality check. There were a multitude of reasons I came to the coast, but the one that matters the most at the moment is that I was running away... running away from life, running away from therapy, running away from Bachelor Number one, running away from that nasty mess of gremlins, so I wouldn't have to think or do anything about them. Unfortunately, those damned gremlins packed themselves in my bag when I wasn't watching, and instead of gazing mindlessly at the ocean as I sunbathed on a towel, I was just doing the same thing I always do, wrestling my demons, just with more exotic scenery than usual.

So... Bachelor number one. Funny, sweet, respectful, interesting, and for some reason he seems to really like me. Even after I completely wigged out on him last thursday, by not being able to say this is too fast for me, by not putting my boundaries up firmly, by dissasociating, and freaking him out quite substantially. But he was a good guy. He stopped what we were doing, he gave me space, he waited for me to come back into myself and calmed down. He walked me to the bus, sweetly kissed me on the lips and asked when he could see me next. That's all he asked. Not hey, what the hell just happened, or what the heck is wrong with you, you freak, just 'when can I see you again?".

And still, I can't just allow myself to believe he might be a good guy. So, I am yelling at myself "What the heck is wrong with you, you freak?!"

And then therapy on Monday. Of course she wanted to know how it went. I stated firmly that things had not gone as planned but I didn't want to talk about it. She did her usual little attempts at trying to get to the issue through the back door, but I successfully fought her off (Checkmate!) Why? Because I am humiliated and embarrassed and angry at myself, and I just didn't want her to know. And I didn't want to see her again on thursday, nor did I want to catch up with Bachelor number one any time soon... not because of them but me... So when this opportunity came up, I grabbed it and ran with it. But, its nearing the end of the week, I have bitten the bullets and organised to meet (B1) on saturday, and of course I have therapy on monday. Time to come out of hiding and suck it up Ophelia!

It did cause me to think however on the multitude of things we hide from our therapists out of just sheer embarrassment, even if we know them to be pertinent to the therapeutic journey.

Sex, is just not something I talk about easily with anyone, including my best friends, let alone a therapist. But sex plays an integral part in how I came to be so royally f*cked up, why I continue to act in f*cked up ways, so I kinda need to talk about it.

Any suggestions on how to get this issue out in the open between (D) and I would be very much appreciated.

P.S. The beach was gorgeous...so lucky to live in Australia with beaches like that so close by... So I did get a bit of relaxation, and sleep was slightly better (I think its the sea air that does it)

Taking a mental health week

Lots of things going on at the moment, therapy, relationships issues, family issues, sleeping issues, all swirling around trying to suck me back down into the vortex of despair. So I am doing what I am best at.... denial... I am off to the beach for a week to (metaphorically, of course) bury my head in the sand. No Internet access from tomorrow through till Friday. Catch you on the flipside!

My new friend

Completely unmentally health related, other than the fact he makes me smile.... meet my new friend Koda the Triceretops.

Vain whinge

I am hungry.... really really hungry.

I have ranted and raved previously about the ridiculous amount of weight the new medication has made me gain. I have tried just making sure I was eating healthily, and getting a reasonable amount of exercise. But the kilos just kept on creeping up. And by Monday of this week I was just in tears over it.

So... I have done what I never thought I'd do and gone on a shake diet. I never really thought much of them, but I have a friend who lost a substantial amount of weight on this particular program. You are supposed to have the shakes for breakfast and lunch, and then three small low carb snacks and a small low carb dinner. And lots of water. The water and the shakes combined are supposed to make you feel full. But I am starving hungry pretty much all the time! I don't know how long its going to last. I am probably even crankier and more depressed than I was to begin with.

How do other people deal with anti-psychotic weight gain?

Ok, so obviously last night when I got home was not in the best of moods. Dating.... lots of baggage there.

But anyways... therapy yesterday.

Yesterdy the focus was primarily on my experiences as an infant. Yup... you wouldn't think that there would be a heck of a lot to talk about, seeing as I obviously can't remember what life was like as a new born or a 6 month old. I suppose, the idea is basically, to go back in time and find where the fissures in "normal emotional development" occured, and build me back up form the bottom upwards.

So we pretty much worked from what I've been told by family members.

1) My birth coincided with my parents divorce

2) My birth preceeded a lengthy and debilitating depression in my mother (probably would have been diagnosed with clinical post natal depression today)

3) My mother admitted to me that she did not feel as though 'I was hers' or that "I belonged to her at this time'

4) I was an incredibly placid baby

5) There is pretty much no record of my babyhood (photos, mementos ect) compared to my sisters who seem to have quite a lot.

So, what does this mean... well.. if you look at Erikson's Developmental stages, infancy is a stage of trust vs mistrust, (sound like a common theme in my life) and Therapist (D) highlighted how, without the security of knowing that my needs would be met (with a mother that was often unable to do so, at least on an emotional level) I never had the building blocks or foundation if you will, to start learning how to trust, and with each breach of trust throughout my life, that already fragile ability became more and more fragmented. So.... that was the session.

The only other thing that was a bit strange to realise, is exactly how much I am emotionally discontected to that, and other emotional experiences in my life. My therapist (D) experienced more sadness when talking about what life would have been like for that baby, whereas I just felt little connection before.

Not a great night

"Mistakes, afterall, are the foundation of truth, and if a man does not know what a thing is, it is at least an increase in knowledge if he knows what it is not" ~ Carl Jung

I am an idiot.

That's all I've got for tonight

Aha moment

I must admit although I have a lot of time to watch Dr Phil and Oprah these days, I find most of what they say tripe. But, there was a phrase on Oprah today that really resonated with me (which makes me cringe, God forbid, I might become one of those people who only read Oprah book club books next.)

The phrase was "You are only as sick as your secrets"

One for me to think about...

That is all.

Echos of the past

Here is an uncomfortable subject for me. And one that makes me glad that this blog is anonymous and my family will never read it. Recap on family make-up. My older sister (k) and I have the same parents, my younger sister (A) has a different father. And he, well he was an evil bastard, and much to blame for a lot of my issues today. I live with my lil sis and her partner. And for the most part we get along quite well (better than with older sis, for sure) But.... lil sis looks an awful lot like SF. Same colouring, same eyes... and to a certain extent same verbal temper. Don't get me wrong, she is nothing like the abusive bastard... she has cut off all ties after he and my mother divorced. And I'm sure underneath it all she has a multitude of issues related to having to accept she is genetically linked to the prick. But when she gets angry, she will yell and scream... and it just...takes me back in time to her father who used to do the same thing. Last night, she and her partner got into a rip roarer of an arguement, and it spun me out totally. Even though it wasn't directed at me, the way she can be so cruel and scathing, like you're just a speck of dirt... its horrible.

For the most part though she is perfectly fine. This afternoon for instance, she helped me pick some clothes out of her wardrobe that she has outgrown, because with the weight I've put on with the meds I cant fit into a lot of my clothes and I was feeling a bit depressed. She can be fun, and she loves fiercely. It's just a tiny, minute part of his personality that she has inherited, andis far, far outweighed by her better qualities.

I feel guilty for even thinking it. But last night I did. Last night scared me

Its time to have the talk...

No... not 'that' talk... at 27 years old I am pretty clued up about the birds and the bees (something about a stork and a cabbage patch, right? :P ) No, today, when I entered the therapy room, I knew something was different...that I was in for big session.

People have commented that the relationship that you have with your therapist is one of the weirdest relationships you'll have. This was not such a big deal in my previous, CBTish experiences. Although I was with the same psychiatrist for nearly 5 years, the whole relationship aspect was never too much of a big deal. But in this psychodynamic therapy it is kind of doing my head in. My previous PsychDoc (Dr B) didn't really self disclose that much about herself, I knew she had two sons who were a few years younger than me (they sometimes came to the clinic after school), I knew that she lived out of town (she explained that's why she didn't always get the best mobile reception on the weekend), other than that, I didn't know that much about her and I really wasn't that curious. No more curious than I was about say, my local GP. Sure it kind of creeped me out running into her in town on the two occasions I did, but no more than a blip of 'well that was weird'.

With new Therapist (D) I know pretty much nothing about her. I know she is probably in about her 30's. That's it. Which wouldn't be a problem, except that with this 'relational counselling' I am expected to form a therapeutic relationship with her based on trust. Trust with not just the surface type emotions, but the deep, delving into your inner psyche and unconciousness trust.

With someone I know nothing about. I don't even trust friends that I have had for over 15 years that much. I have to open myself up to be vulnerable to a complete stranger, really.

And the truth is, I do trust her. She has come through for me thus far, in basically every way I have needed her to. She sat with me for hours in an emergency room, while I was being admitted to the psych wing. But does that mean I can trust her for the future. My experience of relationships has been quite often that people who you put your faith in, whilst supportive to begin with, will eventually end up leaving you hanging, just when you have come to rely on them. And she is a professional... not a friend. Ultimately however altruistic her motives of choosing the profession are, she is being paid to help me. Thus the power balance is all screwed up... with me as the vulnerable one... her as the strong one. Me as the one who is supposed to be completely open and honest warts and all, her as the one who must constantly check with herself that everything she says is therapeutic (Unconditional Positive Regard.... there's another doozy to get your head around). Leaving me wondering, what of our interations, if anything are actually authentic.

Sigh.

So, we had the talk. She didn't use the word resistance.. she thinks it has negative connotations... I believe I was the one who actually labelled it for what it was. The therapeutic process is stagnating, because I am intellectuallising, holding back, trying to please her, because I am afraid if I say the wrong thing, if I am to needy a client, if I let her see the real me, then she will leave. And I'll be left again, alone, with all of this mess to sort through on my own. It's unproductive. I need to move past that block. And I guess today was the first step in really talking about it and acknowledging its existence

She told me she has every intention of sticking with me throughout this journey. I believe her. But I also no that there are no definites, things can change in the blink of an eye. she may not be able to follow through with that honest intention. She told me this is true of all relationships. I ask her how people deal with that... she said most people try not to think about it, or they go on faith that it will be ok. I asked her what you do when you've used up your life's quota of faith. She told me you mourn the loss, the knowledge that nothing is absolute. And that is what it is to be human.

Can I be human, or am I to far gone?

It was a full on session, and I'm pretty emotional tonight. But its out in the open. I'm sure this is not the last time it will rear its ugly head in this journey. But the elephant in the room was finally acknowledged.

Let the games begin...

Make me sane...make me fat

I have put on 16 kilos in two and a half months. When you stand at 5ft 2 inches, that is a lot of weight. I have never had weight issues like this before. If anything, I have always had trouble putting on and maintaining a healthy weight. So what has changed? Well, part of my new medication regime, in additon to the benzos, anti-epileptics and anti depressants they have had me on in the past, they have now added an anti-psychotic.

Denoon states in his article "Fighting anti-psychotic weight gain" that
Weight gain is one of the major reasons that people sufferin psychosis* have a lifespan 30 years less than than the average person.

Of course, there a whole lot of reasons that people with mental health issues have on average a more limited lifespan than their 'sane' counterparts. Suicidality, of course. The interactions of medication on the vital body functions such as liver function, disinhibited behaviour leading to dangerous behaviours. Alchohol and drug abuse to self medicate problems...and yes, that includes nicotine!

But weight gain brings with it more than just the effect on self esteem, of watching your body metamorphisise in front of you, there is also the other health problems inherent with obesity, ie diabetes and heart disease

Add to that, that in the midst of a depressive episode, the motivation to exercise or to carefully moniter diet it all but lost. In fact, at times with the overhanging 'fatigue' from the benzodiazepams, I have found it sometimes out right dangerous to undertake certain exercise at certain times of the year.

So, the drug makes me sane. But I'm going to be vain and whiney on top of it all right now, what point is that when even the sight of a mirror depresses the hell out of me at the moment.

Anyway, I'm off to drink my "yummy" diet shake, and then therapy

*I am not on the drug for psychosis, more for help with anxiety, nightmares and insomnia.

Laser stare does not equal empathy.

Following on from my previous post, there were a number of things about this psychic that made me...well... a little uncormfotable. One of those being the intense I contact that she maintained, making if feel rude for you to look away.

This is an issue I've come across in therapy, with my case manager and definately whilst on the ward. I guess there is imbedded an idea that people with poor eye contact are deceptive or hiding somthing. The reality is, in a normal conversation, eye contact averages about 30-60% of the interaction. This is because usually those interactions are whilst in the middle of other tasks or activities. Thus eye contact is reserved mostly to demonstrate from time to time that you are still engaged and listening, or to get somebodies attetntion.

In the therapy room, or in the hospital consultation rooms, there isnt that extraneous activity, and eye contact seems to be regarded as a way mental health professionals can show they are really listening and hearing. We appreciate that. But when it is spooky almost non stop eye contact.... it freaks us out! And it seems.... almost...intrusive, there is no place to retreat and gather your thoughts.

Conversely, my eye contact, jumps from a steady holding gaze when I'm looking for an answer, to crazily bouncing around thr room, taking in paintings, furniture, lint on my clothes, when I am trying to give answers... because I'm flustered. I feel like a bug under a microscope. The hypervigilance from the PTSD doesn't help matters either.

So in conclusion, 'positive' eye contact, like 'unconditional positive regard'...isn't actually always positive. It makes us feel unsettled and it makes the health professionals seem specious and artificial. JMO.