fail…

Yet again I bit off  more than I could chew and I had to rip out the lace.  It’s just too hard, takes more concentration than I can muster now.

I went to the Opera today. Of all places,  I went to the opera.  With my daughters.  My youngest daughter and I got my oldest daughter tickets to see Casanova’s Homecoming for her birthday.  It was pretty funny.   Our tickets were cheap seats, so it was hard to see.  They had the words projected on a small screen above the stage, even though the opera was in English  it was still hard to understand at times, but I couldn’t see a lot of the time because of the seating.

But it was funny.  Lots of plot twists and turns.  The story line was strange.  More than I can describe now.  I got a chance to dress up and get out of the house, which was very good for me.  I’ve been very isolated.

My sisters and kids have joined facebook, like everyone else on the planet it seems.  I have avoided it because it just seems like an exercise in humiliation to me.  I would have no one to “friend” so I just see no point,  and this would embarrass me when my family would see my total lack of friends when they add me to their contacts or “friend” me or however that works.  They have been pressuring me to join anyway because it’s “fun.”

So I decided to set up an account.  Went through the process, declining the offers to find friends/contacts for you because it would be an exercise in futility.  Added my family as friends, etc.  Then got to the part where they suggest friends for you.  That’s when I realized how small my world has become and how rich my families lives are because they suggest you add the friends of those you have added as friends to your facebook page.   And I felt so hopelessly alone and so fucking embarrassed by how I’ve lived.

So I deleted the account, emailed those whom I friended to tell them that I just deleted the account and wished I hadn’t done it to begin with.

One of my sisters isn’t talking to me lately, either and I have no idea what I did to piss her off, I will likely never know. She is a drama queen, used to being the Queen of her Castle and is sometimes very passive aggressive.  I guess she now communicates via facebook.  Oh well.

We were discussing in therapy last session about how little support I’ve gotten over the years from my family.  How that’s made it very difficult for me to trust.   I need to let go at some point, just stop expecting what they cannot give and then I’ll stop getting hurt.  You’d think I’d learn after all these years.

These are the people who I consider my support system, and I’m just now realizing that they are no support, not at all.  I’m afraid that I can’t change, I’m afraid to change.  I can’t live like this anymore, it hurts too damn much.  I’m afraid to trust anyone.

crabby

The psychologist seemed nice enough.  Didn’t finish going through my history, therapy goals and such, though.  Telling my DBT/therapy tale brought back a lot of shame.  Today was a bad day.  I was very moody, short tempered.  Couldn’t think of a skill to use, didn’t want to use any damn skill.

I’m freaking out about filing a complaint against old therapist.  I’m afraid that I’ll get in trouble.  Stupid, I know.  But I’m afraid.  For some reason I’ve come to associate him with all the bad authority figures in my life and I’m afraid that he’s going to hurt me, even though the rational part of me knows that it makes no sense, a bigger part of me is a frightened child.  I don’t think that complaint will get filed.

I’m trying to shake that off and look forward.  Next session with the new psych will be about therapy goals.  I need to come up with those, what’s realistic for me.  I need to keep pushing myself to move forward, no matter how small the steps may be I have to move forward.  And I did make progress today, even though I was crabby.  I can still move forward when I’m crabby, and crabbiness didn’t have to define my whole day.

baby steps

I’m seeing a new psychologist tomorrow.

I’m still a bit labile, I hope I don’t cry.  I hope I can  keep the mindset that I’m hiring her to help me.  Emphasis on the HIRING part.  I’ve been perceiving my therapists as authority figures and that’s not healthy.

In thinking about what my expectations of therapy are, I’ve been wondering if my expectations have been very realistic.  I am in my forties.  I’ve been very isolated.  I could probably be diagnosed as agoraphobic. ( I haven’t been formally diagnosed as such).  I am easily overwhelmed.  I have little to no outside support.

What changes can I realistically make?  I tend to look at the finish line and panic.  By that I mean, envision myself in a steady job, competently earning a nice income and navigating my way in the real world with ease.  This is something that I want, this is something that I don’t have the tools to actually make happen at this time and it scares the hell out of me.

So I’m wondering what is realistic?  How many people my age, who have isolated themselves for so many years have been able to crawl out of that hell?  Who have no support or friendships because of that isolation?

But I’m trying so hard not to get bogged down by my past.  I’ve been trying so damn hard not to let that stop me from trying anyway.  I have to start where I am, no matter what my circumstances are.  I am here.  I can’t change that.

I’ve been thinking about college.  I can’t afford classes right now.  Our public library system has an online learning center with free courses in math, business English, adult job skills refresher courses among many other resources.   So I’ve been looking them over and sticking my toe in and testing out the waters, seeing how much I’ve forgotten over the years.  I never went to college.

I read something on a forum, someone mentioned that they had once been very obsessed with themselves, and once they had made the decision to stop being so self obsessed, life became so much easier.  That really hit home.  Hard to hear, but oh, so true.  So I’ve been trying to stop being so damn self obsessed, and I’ve been trying to stop dwelling on the obstacles in my way.  They just tend to bog me down and stop me in my tracks.

All of this scares the hell out of me.

…

Tomorrow I see my old therapist and I am already freaking out.  I am filled with anxiety.  I am not usually like this, not with therapists.  I will go, I wont run away.  But something happened at that last therapy session with my dbt therapist that has caused me to associate therapy with bad things and this isn’t good.

Tomorrow is the new moon, a time for beginnings.  I hope this can be the beginning of healing for me, a new chapter.

I had a doctor appointment today, pretty routine, mostly to keep a prescription for blood pressure and thyroid meds filled for another year.  I disclosed my psych meds, and the nurse practitioner asked if my diagnosis had changed from depression to bipolar because of the medications.  It has and I said, yes.  So, it’s now on my medical chart that I have bipolar disorder.  I’m not comfortable with that.

In a perfect world where there is no stigma against mental illness this would not be an issue.  I don’t live in that perfect world.  People who wear labels of mental illness do not get taken as seriously as people who don’t wear those labels.  Depression doesn’t carry quite the same stigma as bipolar disorder, and if the label borderline personality disorder ever becomes attached then man, just forget about credibility altogether.  I don’t have that diagnosis,  I really feel for those that do.

I wonder if I can get that removed from my chart.  I wonder if I should lie about my meds.  I will if I feel that I’m being stigmatized because of my mental illness.  I’m pissed off that I have to be concerned about this at all.

Endings

I don’t even know where to start.  I have never felt more alone than I do right now.  My world has shrunk yet again.  God it hurts.

Therapy has gone so wrong, trust has been destroyed, I wont go back.  And because of that I’m going to have to quit my DBT group that I loved so much, which was my only source of support, because my therapist was also a group facilitator.

I don’t think there is any other way to make it right.

There is so much stress in my life right now.  Work is slow for my carpenter husband, so money is tight.  Not enough for bills.  Our 17 year old dog is at the end of her life and that is not easy to see.  She will be euthanized very soon if nature doesn’t take its course.  Therapy has been a trial, I may blog about that another time.  Marriage is rocky.

Worries, mind spinning, wanting to escape, the ultimate escape.

Providence, too.  I came here for the first time in months and find comments that give me strength.

whoa

DH’s hand looks almost normal now.  He really dodged a bullet.  His hand was so infected and he had a fever along with the grotesque swelling.  The area of redness had spread half way up his arm before the medication finally kicked in. He should have had surgery but I believe that he refused.

I continue to be very disturbed by my reaction.  I can understand some of it.  I was very worried and I believe this is understandable.  I was also very angry with him for letting it go.  Also understandable.  But not the out of control behavior.

I’m wondering if I am possibly still experiencing withdrawal from the Effexor, is my addled brain still reeling from discontinuing the med? Or is this proof that I really do need to be medicated?

This has brought to light issues that I really need to take care of, such as my unhealthy dependence on DH, the need for me to become independent, the thin line that I’m walking between sanity and insanity.  I thought I was stronger.

I’m afraid for the next real crisis, what the hell am I going to do to take care of my boys, DH and myself?  This has to change.

Quitting therapy right now is a bad idea.  I am going to have to put my discomfort aside and be brutally honest with t about lots of things, I’m going to have to push the tears aside and just grit my teeth and spit it out.  I feel that I have not time to pussy foot around, I need to work on this NOW.  I haven’t been dishonest with t about anything.  But there are issues such as our talk of religion, my feelings of being blown off, that will need to be resolved.

My inclination is to run when I feel rejected, but I know that DBT works if the tools are used.  My t has had insights into my issues that no other t has had before.  He has a way of validating me that I’ve felt from no other.  But he ain’t perfect.  I think I piss him off and that he’s giving up on me.  I need to voice this.

I put on 600 miles on the car this weekend.  I chose to just drive when my emotions ran too high.  I ran away.  I’m so conflicted, so many emotions.  I think I’m falling apart.