I’m having a feeling day. I’m not sure that I like it. I feel like my heart might be ripped up in little pieces and spread throughout my body because I’m feeling all of my feelings everywhere. My therapist and I are doing some exposure work with a set of flashbacks I’ve been having. I’m not being able to complete much of the process in one session. I’m having to stop the process before session time is up, otherwise, I know I’m going to end up in a soggy mess on the floor and have all sorts of trouble scraping myself up when I’m done. Do today, we did the part where my therapist tells me the story using stick figure pictures that I drew. I could feel myself trying g to dissociate and disappear and I managed to not do that. I kept trying to sit on my hands as that restrains me and silences me. I had to work really hard not to do that. I cried big gulping cries at one point. At one point I felt so sick that I was weighing my options of bolting to the ladies room or grabbing a trashcan, but that feeling subsided as quickly as it came on. I got angry at one point. I was incredulous that this stuff could have happened to me. I was amazed that the capable woman I see in the mirror every morning lived through that and turned out to be me. And now, I feel wrung out and like I’m dying. I’m sure that the dying part is an old feeling left over from that incident, but it’s still scaring me….to the point where I actually left a message about it on my therapist’s voice-mail. I’m not sure she’ll respond, and she doesn’t have to. I just wanted her to hear what is going on now that my session has been over for a couple of hours. I’d really like to curl up and sleep, but I have to pick one boy up from Scouts, meet with another boy’s service provider, and then get all three boys to a Friday night pizza party and Mine Minecraft night. While they are there, my wife and I are going out for dinner…with just adults and no tomfoolery. Then, later this evening, I’ll get the chance to tend to these feelings and this body again. I’m looking forward to the couch, the cats, and some tea.
I would ask how you are doing. I’d want to know if you’re having a rough time. I’d want to know if you needed anything from me. I’d want to know what was bringing you joy these days. I’d want To know if you had any travel plans or if you’ve eaten new food or seen movies. I’d want to know what you’ve been creating lately. I’d want to hear anything you wanted to tell me.
I’d tell you about all of the work I’ve done lately with Maya Angelou’s poem, And Still I Rise. My therapist introduced that poem into our work a few weeks ago, and we’ve gotten lots of milage out of it. Maya’s words bring me great strength lately.
I’d tell you about how glad I am that my therapist does such a good job of containing our work. I’d tell you how good it feels to be able to soothe myself and to bring all of my meditation and yoga skills into that soothing. I’d tell you how much stronger I am lately….mentally and physically. I’d tell you how glad I am that my therapist encouraged me to find strength and soothing from things like massage, acupuncture, and Reiki. I’d tell you that I know that my therapist is doing a great job of not engaging with me and getting in a power struggle when I flash to anger. I’m thinking it might behoove me to learn to use my brain to think about what is happening before I allow myself to react with anger to what she says or suggests. I’ve been really appreciating her ability to redirect the conversation.
I’d tell you that I hung out with Mary, my priest today. She meets me where I am and sometimes she’s my friend, my mother, or my priest. Today she was definitely my friend. We talked about kids and clothes and haircuts. It was fun and insightful. She gave me a book to read with reflections by all sorts of people like Maya Angelou, Marianne Williamson, Joyce Rupp, Pope Francis, and Oscar Romeo.
I’d also tell you that I’ve come to the conclusion that I don’t fit in anywhere these days. I’m way older than a couple of friends, way younger than another friend. I’m into fitness, but not as fervently as people who have a trainer, run, or do Cross fit. I’m into art, but I’m not so good. I’m old enough to be a grandma, but I have little kids. I’m a lesbian, but I actually hang out with no lesbian people…well, besides my wife. I’m into bettering myself, but I’m pretty damned healthy these days. My friends who started this kind of journey around the same time I did are in much different places. I’m interested in spirituality, but not Church so much. I feel kind of out of whack with most people. I really wish I lived near a bunch of my WordPress friends. How does one go about finding friends when one is 50 years old?
I’d also tell you that I’m kind of out of whack with my wife. I guess that happens when a person goes from weighing a hundred lbs more than her wife to weighing 100 lbs less than her wife. Yes, people, I have lost 200 lbs. My wife can’t be as active as I am. When I try to arrange any kind of physical activity for our family, taking into consideration her limitations, she still declines to join me and our sons. Also, I have so much energy, that all of the housework falls to me these days. She used to clean up after I cooked and I cook every single night, but now she doesn’t. I go out two nights a week to the gym when the boys go to bed, and one night I didn’t get to clean the kitchen before I left. I came home to all of the leftover food still out. We are not rich, and I cried when I got home 3 hours later to see a whole other meal just left out to go bad. I get that it’s hard for her to stand at the sink doing dishes. Her knees and back hurt. I’d not mind doing the dishes so much if she would interact with the kids while I clean up, but she doesn’t do that either. She goes from the dining room to the living room to watch television. The whole thing makes me so sad.
So, anyway. That’s what I would tell you about today.
I can’t find anything about this on Google, so I’m wondering if anybody has given thought to this. If you already have PTSD, and experience more traumas, what is the prognosis for healing?
This is what I’d tell you.
I’d tell you that I’ve been having a hard time writing, feeling my feelings, and being creative. I think the problem might be the increase in my antidepressants. I think they are making me numb. I’m not sad, I’m not happy…most of the time.
I’d tell you that I discovered this kind of cookie called Biscoff. They are so good. I’m going to learn how to make them.
I’d tell you that I’m having some anniversary issues. It was a year ago that my oldest son acted out sexually inappropriately with his brothers. Then a week or two later I lost (they did not die) two of my closest friends. It was three years ago that my ex therapist became extremely emotionally abusive and terminated me put of the blue. I absolutely HATE those two extra friends and my ex therapist. I can’t stop thinking about what these three people did to me. I have been beating up the Wavemaster on a regular basis. I wish I knew how to let these three people go. And, regarding my son, I’ve been extremely jumpy and antsy about where he is in the house and where his brothers are. I love my son and I want to protect him and I don’t trust him at all.
My two friends whom I lost last year were like my sisters. They spent lots of time in my house. They took care of my kids with me. We were together all the time. Yesterday, I realized that they had me convinced I could not care for my kids without their help. My kids are very difficult children, but you know what? I’ve taken better care of them in the past year without those 2 friends than ever before. I don’t need assistance parenting. Fuck those people.
Also, if my ex therapist had not terminated me, I would never have found my present therapist. My ex therapust told me that I would probably never heal. My present therapist called me a warrior in the first month I saw her. She also tells me that I am whole and I have all I need inside me to heal.
I’d tell you that I’m addicted to Law and Order SVU. I wish I’d known an Olivia when I was a kid. Now, I’m learning to be my own Olivia.
I’d also tell you that I’m now smaller than I was in 7th grade. I’m thrilled with how I look and what my body can do. I’d tell you that my hair is now quite short and I now look like what I’ve imagined in my mind for years. Short haired, athletic looking, feminine lesbian. I love it.
What would you tell me if we were drinking coffee together today?
I heard this,song on the radio for the first time yesterday, and it really spoke to me, so I decided I’d better share it.
My reactions to things astound me. I had a pretty good session. I think I’ve started recognizing my warriorness again. Last week, I’d been talking to my therapust about some stuff that happened to me as a teenager. As I talked, it occurred to me that I now weigh less than when this stuff happened and I expressed to my therapist that this actually made me feel very vulnerable all of a sudden. This was towards the end of last week’s session, so my therapust gave me an assignment to compare 15 year old me to the now 50 year old me. I did this assignment and included some pictures. I came up with at least 30 ways that I am different from 15 year old me. I found out that I’m lots stronger and more capable now than I was when I was 15. And I recognized my warriorness again. So, on Tuesday, my therapust and I talked about this and then talked about the flashbacks I’ve been having lately. And then my therapist told me that she is going away for the whole week the week after next. My head swirled and my eyes filled with tears. I tried to tell myself that I could live for a week, but some part of me was screaming that she just came back from vacation a couple of weeks ago. And then I realized that the week my therapust will be back from being away is my kids’ winter break and I’ve not been successful with finding a babysitter for any part of that week. So, no therapy that week. I protested, stating that it will be two weeks because of that and my therapust stated that she just won’t be here. Which I get. My protests aren’t going to change anything. I don’t get a say in this. I am just starting to see some specks of light after a big depression and those specks are still disappearing at times. I just saw my warriorness again. I don’t want all of that to disappear. My therapist and my wife reminded me that I didn’t fall apart for the two weeks my therapist was away just a few weeks ago. I know I didn’t…I was actually grateful to have less times that I was expected to be awake and functioning. But, now, I feel in a fragile place with this trafficking word. And I’m afraid that I could get too deep in it and then be left alone with it for two weeks. I left the session in tears. I know I’ll be okay…as okay as I can be. But, I’m not ready for another therapy break and I have no control in this. I feel vulnerable. Nothing I do will change my therapist’s plans. I know that. But, I have to look at this reaction. I have to deal with where it comes from. I’m so afraid of people leaving me. I’m afraid they won’t come back. My therapust will be back unless something beyond her control happens. There’s my problem. People may have the best intentions, but not every circumstance is controllable. Some people have heinous intentions, and those circumstances were beyond my control when I was growing up. I don’t like this out of control feeling.
I need to set up some ways I’m going to cope with those two weeks of no therapy. I have three sessions to look at this stuff and come up with a plan for myself.
I am tired, depressed, and in pain, I am a warrior.
Even though I am having a difficult time finding the words to talk about what’s going on inside me, I am still a warrior.
I am a warrior even though I am depressed and feel stuck.
I am a warrior even when I feel defeated by the memories and flashbacks.
I am a warrior every day of my life.
Even when I forget that I am a warrior, I’m still a warrior.
Even when I am wounded, I am a warrior.
Even when I lose the battle, I am still a warrior.
I will not stop being a warrior…even if my soul is weary, my heart broken, my body damaged, and my mind afflicted.
I am a warrior every day of my life.
I am a warrior every day I live.
I am a warrior.