I'm back after a little absence. I was, for a while, just too sad or angry, or grieved, or all three to post for a while. Which says something given the tone of my previous posts. Huh?
Then I was okay. I think I am still okay but my pink cloud is passing some. that's okay. I can't explain the waves of emotion. Painful or not painful. They just are. But life is heavier when they are painful.
I think I stopped posting when I had my latest flashback. It was of my mum molesting me in the bath. It all made so much sense. Pieces of the puzzle of *Me* slid into place. It was sickening and horrifying (literally made me sick) but so many little things made sense after that. And it wasn't like I had not remembered what had happened. No, I always knew it happenend. I just never saw it in a clear light before. Saw it for what it really was. Which tells me that it must have been going on before I had verbal memory. Cause I just never saw it for what it was. Then, one night it became so clear. so plain. I can't explain why I never saw it before. Not that I didn't think it was odd before. Just, I had such a moment of clarity. And that was when things shifted away from being so painful and heavy. Sickened and sad for a few days after but things began to lighten quickly. Very quickly.
So now I'm trying to let the waves of emotion just be what they are and accept what comes without blaming myself if I'm not Little Mary Sunshine.
Saturday, July 30, 2011
Wednesday, July 6, 2011
Monday, July 4, 2011
gah
Please to know, dear god, the memories will. not. stop. The latest one is making me sick. Will I call someone in my *crisis list* ? No. Because why would I want to share that and because it is a holiday (naturally) and because they do not call me back. Sliding into very painful place. Nothing to hold onto.
Monday, June 27, 2011
This has been very ...tiring. I have been crying since Friday. I figured something out though. I am embarrassed because I am crying. Like I have no right be be disturbing every one with my emotional displays. Which doesn't help when I can't actually stop. So I don't know what to do with that.
I cried all through therapy. I cried all through the meeting. I was still crying when I went to sleep. I hoped Saturday would be different. But no. I can't talk to anyone. As soon as I start talking I start crying. And I get so weary of the question, What's wrong? It's so hard. It's hard to keep saying what's wrong. Not everyone needs to know what's wrong. And I'm embarrassed so I don't do things I need to do like get groceries.
Someone last night did suggest that I get the book Courage to Heal instead of the workbook. So I did. She said it was more helpful. We'll see. I even feel like my therapist isn't helpful. She just waited for me to stop crying which never happened. She asked me to tell an imaginary friend what I needed. But what I need is more than anyone can provide. At least anyone that I know. Plus, I wouldn't know how to allow that without giving up all my power anyway. So I'm just going to have to be here. Here hurts. and I think I'm not allowed to have this much hurt. But I do. And it just is. And I wish I wasn't so all in pieces but I am.
My computer is back home. All my favourites are lost cause he had to wipe it. All the blogs I followed. Crap.
All my links to pay my bills. Just when I don't have the energy to look them all up and they are due. Again. Crap.
Saturday, June 25, 2011
Monday, June 20, 2011
Sunday was a really emotional day for me. It was hard. It started early too and just followed me through the day. It started in meditation. Yup. Something about how different the love of the Goddess is from any other love I know and how I just didn't feel like I could possibly live up to that and (runon probably) I had no idea how to relate to that. I have no experience to go on here. Flying blind comes to mind. And sort of awestruck and terrified all at the same time.
And damn! But once it started it just would not stop. I went to my regular Sunday morning meeting and everytime I opened my mouth I started crying and when some other people talked I started crying. And then I couldn't stop.
After the meeting I had a bad asthma attack or a panic attack cured by proventil. It started to come on during the meeting but I thought I could ride it out. Nope. Standing in the parking lot I was in fullblown NO AIR and PANIC. Couldn't even think what I should do. Kitty suggested I sit down. Someone mentioned an inhaler and I remebered I HAVE one of those. With me. I actually thought I was going to stop breathing. It was VERY scary. Doesn't happen often but fuck that was scary.
Now I keep checking to see if I have my inhaler. I do.
Like I need something else to add to my anxiety.
And my thinking about the Goddess and love wasn't all positive. No. It was really quite scary, really. See, I don't understand love without strings. I keep thinking there must be a catch. When does the catch show up? And if there isn't a catch, somehow that is even scarier. I'm not sure exactly how. But perhaps just in it's unknown quality.
I had a day today like every day was last summer. Breathing on purpose feels like suffocating (yeah, add asthma attack and the anxiety ratchets up) my heart hurts, I"m not very comfortable being me. I'm not even sure who that is.
But maybe, maybe I can sit with the uncertainty and discomfort until it eases.
Although, in the car on the way home from the meeting tonight I played with the thought, *what if it's just always like this from now on? what if this is who I am now?*
I hope not. Cause if this is who I am forever, medicate me, screw my liver.
That's me, Little Marjie Sunshine.
And damn! But once it started it just would not stop. I went to my regular Sunday morning meeting and everytime I opened my mouth I started crying and when some other people talked I started crying. And then I couldn't stop.
After the meeting I had a bad asthma attack or a panic attack cured by proventil. It started to come on during the meeting but I thought I could ride it out. Nope. Standing in the parking lot I was in fullblown NO AIR and PANIC. Couldn't even think what I should do. Kitty suggested I sit down. Someone mentioned an inhaler and I remebered I HAVE one of those. With me. I actually thought I was going to stop breathing. It was VERY scary. Doesn't happen often but fuck that was scary.
Now I keep checking to see if I have my inhaler. I do.
Like I need something else to add to my anxiety.
And my thinking about the Goddess and love wasn't all positive. No. It was really quite scary, really. See, I don't understand love without strings. I keep thinking there must be a catch. When does the catch show up? And if there isn't a catch, somehow that is even scarier. I'm not sure exactly how. But perhaps just in it's unknown quality.
I had a day today like every day was last summer. Breathing on purpose feels like suffocating (yeah, add asthma attack and the anxiety ratchets up) my heart hurts, I"m not very comfortable being me. I'm not even sure who that is.
But maybe, maybe I can sit with the uncertainty and discomfort until it eases.
Although, in the car on the way home from the meeting tonight I played with the thought, *what if it's just always like this from now on? what if this is who I am now?*
I hope not. Cause if this is who I am forever, medicate me, screw my liver.
That's me, Little Marjie Sunshine.
Tuesday, June 14, 2011
insights (family herstory)
I had some stuff gel for me yesterday. I took my mother to get the first cataract surgery done yesterday. One of the nurses made a comment about how much my mother complains. Apparently, it is a lot. One of my friends said she is just old. Well, she was on the cataract surgery floor. EVERYONE was old. And yet HER complaining stood out. She complained from the moment she went back to get ready until she was in the car. And when I told her about it she said she had every right to complain and sited her complaints as justification for complaining.
The nurse asked what was wrong with her. I answered that she was not happy. But the question got me thinking.
Okay.
She doesn't just complain, no. She acts out if her complaints are not validated.
Narcissistic with traits of borderline personality disorder.
No, my degree is not in psych. It's in Elementary Ed. But let me just say that we do a lot of dealing with psych. Bruno Bettelheim thinks we should be even more trained in psychoanalysis. But then, he would.
But here's the story. Distorted as it might be by my own lens.
When my mother was married to my father and things were going the way she thought they should things were mostly cool. She did all the things she thought she should be doing and my dad did all the things she thought HE should be doing .
Then he stopped doing many of the things she thought he should be doing and things got much less cool. And mum got sicker. Physically and mentally. She had many ailments and injuries that required my dad to pay attention to her and take care of her.
Then my dad stopped doing ANY of the things she thought he should be doing and left to live with his girlfriend. Things got awful for a while.
mum locked herself in her room for a week. My brother was 9, I was 11. We took care of ourselves because she told us to go away. Then she stopped talking to us and we decided she was dead and called her best friend. She was not dead. She was drunk. She slowly pulled out of that and figured out what to do with her life.
Go back to school, get a job, find another man to pay her the kind of attention she wanted.
There were lots of men.
Now, my brother and I were getting older. We were finding our won ways to take care of ourselves. Not skillful ways but they worked then. And we did not want attention from mum and she did not want to give it. She left us to our own devices and turned a blind eye when she stumbled onto our drugs. She even went so far as to take orders for the state store and buy us liquor since we were too young to do that ourselves and she thought it was better if we drank at home with our friends. Not to mention that she would not have to fetch us from the police station or the park should drinking *out* go wrong. She thought this was a good solution.
But when we moved out she directed much wrath at whichever child got married or moved out. When we were both gone she settled down for a while with a long time boyfriend.
Now all the men are gone and we are the targets of her behaviour.
Now she drinks into a blackout when we displease her.
I don't play along as much as I can (sometimes I've played along before I notice it). She thinks I'm just mean or that I don't love her. ah well, I try to be kind and patient and when I can't I leave. Which she takes as my abandoning her. I totally understand. I just can't stay with her to the exclusion of my ow life.
So what was new to me was that this situation, this mental illness, has been playing out for a long time. Did it play out in her childhood? I have no idea.
What I found so interesting was the timeline and how this behaviour has been going on and building for years. Of course she is not happy. no one is doing what she wants anymore.
And then there is my Aunt Louise. But she would take up another whole post all of her own and I just don't care to go into it. Let's just say older than my mother with a marriage that lasted until my uncle died but VERY similar personalities. And she is a great complainer and judge.
This gives me pause to question my own mental health. But then I've got help with sorting that out. And I have been assured that I do NOT have Borderline Personality Disorder. Good! But then neither does my mother. At least not ALL the traits. But then the fact that she has taken up drinking so much more in recent years makes the whole *what is wrong with her* messier.
No wonder I never felt connected to her. I was not doing what she wanted from the very first day I arrived. separate a sick baby from an emotionally/mentally unstable mother for months? Hmm. that just sets up all sorts of issues. I was never really sure that she liked me. and it is probably true. This may also be why I do not find is as necessary as my brother to meet her needs. I've never been very good at it so why practice getting better at it now?
I don't have any idea how this may read. But it was jolly interesting to me to get it into a timeline and have everything laid out like this.
The nurse asked what was wrong with her. I answered that she was not happy. But the question got me thinking.
Okay.
She doesn't just complain, no. She acts out if her complaints are not validated.
Narcissistic with traits of borderline personality disorder.
No, my degree is not in psych. It's in Elementary Ed. But let me just say that we do a lot of dealing with psych. Bruno Bettelheim thinks we should be even more trained in psychoanalysis. But then, he would.
But here's the story. Distorted as it might be by my own lens.
When my mother was married to my father and things were going the way she thought they should things were mostly cool. She did all the things she thought she should be doing and my dad did all the things she thought HE should be doing .
Then he stopped doing many of the things she thought he should be doing and things got much less cool. And mum got sicker. Physically and mentally. She had many ailments and injuries that required my dad to pay attention to her and take care of her.
Then my dad stopped doing ANY of the things she thought he should be doing and left to live with his girlfriend. Things got awful for a while.
mum locked herself in her room for a week. My brother was 9, I was 11. We took care of ourselves because she told us to go away. Then she stopped talking to us and we decided she was dead and called her best friend. She was not dead. She was drunk. She slowly pulled out of that and figured out what to do with her life.
Go back to school, get a job, find another man to pay her the kind of attention she wanted.
There were lots of men.
Now, my brother and I were getting older. We were finding our won ways to take care of ourselves. Not skillful ways but they worked then. And we did not want attention from mum and she did not want to give it. She left us to our own devices and turned a blind eye when she stumbled onto our drugs. She even went so far as to take orders for the state store and buy us liquor since we were too young to do that ourselves and she thought it was better if we drank at home with our friends. Not to mention that she would not have to fetch us from the police station or the park should drinking *out* go wrong. She thought this was a good solution.
But when we moved out she directed much wrath at whichever child got married or moved out. When we were both gone she settled down for a while with a long time boyfriend.
Now all the men are gone and we are the targets of her behaviour.
Now she drinks into a blackout when we displease her.
I don't play along as much as I can (sometimes I've played along before I notice it). She thinks I'm just mean or that I don't love her. ah well, I try to be kind and patient and when I can't I leave. Which she takes as my abandoning her. I totally understand. I just can't stay with her to the exclusion of my ow life.
So what was new to me was that this situation, this mental illness, has been playing out for a long time. Did it play out in her childhood? I have no idea.
What I found so interesting was the timeline and how this behaviour has been going on and building for years. Of course she is not happy. no one is doing what she wants anymore.
And then there is my Aunt Louise. But she would take up another whole post all of her own and I just don't care to go into it. Let's just say older than my mother with a marriage that lasted until my uncle died but VERY similar personalities. And she is a great complainer and judge.
This gives me pause to question my own mental health. But then I've got help with sorting that out. And I have been assured that I do NOT have Borderline Personality Disorder. Good! But then neither does my mother. At least not ALL the traits. But then the fact that she has taken up drinking so much more in recent years makes the whole *what is wrong with her* messier.
No wonder I never felt connected to her. I was not doing what she wanted from the very first day I arrived. separate a sick baby from an emotionally/mentally unstable mother for months? Hmm. that just sets up all sorts of issues. I was never really sure that she liked me. and it is probably true. This may also be why I do not find is as necessary as my brother to meet her needs. I've never been very good at it so why practice getting better at it now?
I don't have any idea how this may read. But it was jolly interesting to me to get it into a timeline and have everything laid out like this.
Saturday, June 11, 2011
things that make me go hmm.
I have heard from a few people recently that I intimidate them. Really? I find that amazing and at odds with how I view myself.
Little me intimidates you?
I must look at this.
Little me intimidates you?
I must look at this.
thoughts
so, I had my second session with my new therapist yesterday. It went better than the first. That is a big YAY! I NEED to be reminded, often, that I am the one in charge of me. I get to say what freaks me out and ask to have it clarified. I get to say when things make me uncomfortable. Not that comfort is the goal. No. But when things make me uncomfortable it might be important information. I need to know that and my therapist needs to know that.
I also needed to know that no one is *making me choose* to *give up* one therapist over another. No, I am choosing to go to a different therapist for a time to work on a different, and highly emotional issue. It is charged with a lot of fear and overwhelming emotion. And it is old and long repressed which I think makes the work all that much harder. But not undoable.
And, did I mention that my other therapist said he thought I was stable enough in the depression (without meds) to do this work? OMG that helped SO much!
So now I have embarked on a new phase. We'll see how this goes.
I also needed to know that no one is *making me choose* to *give up* one therapist over another. No, I am choosing to go to a different therapist for a time to work on a different, and highly emotional issue. It is charged with a lot of fear and overwhelming emotion. And it is old and long repressed which I think makes the work all that much harder. But not undoable.
And, did I mention that my other therapist said he thought I was stable enough in the depression (without meds) to do this work? OMG that helped SO much!
So now I have embarked on a new phase. We'll see how this goes.
Tuesday, June 7, 2011
insight
Why don't I call the crisis line when I am REALLY in a crisis? HA! Because when one is in distress or crisis common sense goes out the window!
What a novel notion!
What a novel notion!
edges
There are some people I think of as edge walkers. I am not one of them. No, I'm more of a clinger I think. Be that as it may, I am walking an edge right now. It is profoundly uncomfortable. I think I have words now for what some of my discomfort is Firstly, setting aside a theraputic relationship in which I have built trust for one in which I not only have no trust yet but fear is scary. What if this new therapist is all wrong for me? what if we don't build any trust? What if the only thing that happens is sustained fear? Well, then I advocate for myself and ask for a different therapist. And my current therapist claims that I advocate for myself quite well. Okay. I'll take his word for it for now.
And he reminded me that I need to tell my new therapist what is going on for me. Like that her seeming nervousness makes me nrevous too. And that the tossing around of big issues like *separated self* scared the hell out of me. Cause my longest known underlying fear is that I am foundationally broken. (Spellcheck hates the word foundationally but I think it best expresses what I mean.)
and he assured me that there will be a place for me at Persad after this work is done.
That I can still call the crisis line and I can talk to him if I need to. Cause my list wasn't working very well this past weekend while I had my emotional breakdown.
He thinks I am stable enough with the depresswion to safely do this work and that if might prove to be foundational in getting to the cause of the depression. And if it should prove to be something that I find I can't do or it gets to be more than I can handle then I can stop and come back to Persad at any time. it's my choice.
And he assured me that I will know if this is the case or not. Cause one of the things I am worried about is just that. Getting to the place where I can't help myself and not being able to stop what I have set in motion. Like The Sorcer's Apprentice.
Next session at PAAR...Friday.
And he reminded me that I need to tell my new therapist what is going on for me. Like that her seeming nervousness makes me nrevous too. And that the tossing around of big issues like *separated self* scared the hell out of me. Cause my longest known underlying fear is that I am foundationally broken. (Spellcheck hates the word foundationally but I think it best expresses what I mean.)
and he assured me that there will be a place for me at Persad after this work is done.
That I can still call the crisis line and I can talk to him if I need to. Cause my list wasn't working very well this past weekend while I had my emotional breakdown.
He thinks I am stable enough with the depresswion to safely do this work and that if might prove to be foundational in getting to the cause of the depression. And if it should prove to be something that I find I can't do or it gets to be more than I can handle then I can stop and come back to Persad at any time. it's my choice.
And he assured me that I will know if this is the case or not. Cause one of the things I am worried about is just that. Getting to the place where I can't help myself and not being able to stop what I have set in motion. Like The Sorcer's Apprentice.
Next session at PAAR...Friday.
Saturday, June 4, 2011
not fun
I am feeling pretty much out here alone. And like I am a giant pain in everyone's ass. This may or may not be true. I'm just sayin how it feels to be me today. And basically, it sucks.
I went to my first couseling session at paar yesterday. Many things feel wrong.
I went to my first couseling session at paar yesterday. Many things feel wrong.
- It could be that I am just scared. It could be.
- It could be that I was told I needed to give up a longterm theraputic relationship if I am to work with a counselor from paar. Which scares the shit out of me.
- It could be that the woman I saw told me that the gaps in my memory mean I have already begun to split my *self*. (This would be the reason I can't have two therapists (even though paar would be a short term situation) Cause having two different therapies would further the split.
- And prevent me from *integrating the trauma*.
- Plus, somehow I feel violated that a stranger told me this stuff at a first session.
And now I am living on Planet No One Cares again. My list of people to call, which I have not used except to call and say hi to people is not working and most people are not calling or texting me back. Yep, I'm texting people to ask if they can talk. Because if I call them and they say they can't talk I start crying. If I text them and they can't talk or they don't text me back, at least they don't know I'm crying.
I am not very comfortable being so emotional. I don't know what to do with me when I get like this. Some things help for short periods of time. Like, I cast a circle and had some time with my Goddesses and I was okay for a while. And then it all comes crashing back. Like I can't keep it at bay long enough to be okay for any real length of time.
What the hell is going on with me? Having been here before is only marginally helpful. I still feel so hopless and despairing. And unable, except perhaps in sacred space, to advocate for myself. Or something like that.
Did I mention that I felt violated in some way by this woman's statements? I did. I didn't have words for it at the time. Only tears. And a feeling a despair and disappointment. How can I learn to figure out who to trust when *helping* people can do such apparent damage and still mean to help?
Tuesday, May 31, 2011
words fail me
I was doing some writing on memories and I got a bit of a jolt. See, I think I don't have memories but what I have just don't fit my concept of memories. I remembered a feeling I used to get when I stayed at my Grandma's in the apartment where we lived before we (my parents, my brother and I) moved out. She would put me up in the apartment and I would have this feeling come over me that I do not have the language to describe. It was a feeling of such despair and saddness and .... Iike all the joy had been sucke dout of my world. It left me frozen in ...what? Despair, sorrow? I don't know. all I know is that never, in my life have I ever felt such an overwhelming sense of hopelessness and grief as I would when I stayed in our old apartment. I guess my Grandma thought I would like staying there.
The feeling was so scary. Mostly because I was afraid it wan't going to go away. It happened every time I stayed there. And it seemed so timeless. I was always afraid that this would be the time it didn't go away. This would be the time I was condemned to live with that crushing feeling for the rest of my life.
I have not thought about that feeling for a long time. I had forgotten it even happened.
What the hell was that?
The feeling was so scary. Mostly because I was afraid it wan't going to go away. It happened every time I stayed there. And it seemed so timeless. I was always afraid that this would be the time it didn't go away. This would be the time I was condemned to live with that crushing feeling for the rest of my life.
I have not thought about that feeling for a long time. I had forgotten it even happened.
What the hell was that?
Monday, May 30, 2011
I LOVE water. It melts away all the anxiety. I never have a lump in my throat when I am in or near water. I have spent the past tow days at my friend Chris' house and sitting by or in his pool. Sunshine went too. His dog Angel the Old English Bulldog, and two other friends' dogs Teddy the Laso Apso and Max the pitbull/Boston Terrier were there too. Everyone made nice nice. I have strap marks from my bathing suit already.
This is the place that made it possible for me to live through the worst of last summer. I was so sad when we had Angel's birthday in September and the pool was closed up. I made it though. And the pool is open again and I can spend time with friends I love in a place that is so healing for me. No, it's not the ocean but it wil do.
It would seem that this is a safe place for me. Really. Being able to go there once or twice a week last summer saved my fucking ass.
And I am grateful.
Chris grills for us (usually about 3-4 people {and dogs}) and provides beverages and chips and stuff but he would not have to. We bring stuff. Because we are all grateful that he shares his pool with us. And our dogs.
Sun, water, dogs what else could ya want?
This is the place that made it possible for me to live through the worst of last summer. I was so sad when we had Angel's birthday in September and the pool was closed up. I made it though. And the pool is open again and I can spend time with friends I love in a place that is so healing for me. No, it's not the ocean but it wil do.
It would seem that this is a safe place for me. Really. Being able to go there once or twice a week last summer saved my fucking ass.
And I am grateful.
Chris grills for us (usually about 3-4 people {and dogs}) and provides beverages and chips and stuff but he would not have to. We bring stuff. Because we are all grateful that he shares his pool with us. And our dogs.
Sun, water, dogs what else could ya want?
Saturday, May 28, 2011
coping, gardens, and pools
I went to my second class at PAAR.
I got some very useful stuff in some handouts from the class last night. Like:
*The List of Lists
1. 20 things that help when I feel overwhelmed.
2. 20 things that help when I am suicidal.
3. 20 things that help when I think I might hurt myself.
4. 20 things that help when I am having a hard time dealing with memories.
5. 20 things that help when I am anxious or having panic attacks.
6. 20 ways I can comfort myself.
7. People who can support me.
8. Things of the present: how I know it is this year.
9. 20 things I really like to do.
10. Places I can go when I fell miserable.
11. 20 useful things to do with my anger.
12. things that help me cry when I need to.
13. things of beauty and pleasure in my life today.
14. Nourishing foods I like.
15. the things I most need to remember about myself.
16. 2o things that help me get/stay grounded.
17. My favorite things: a list of treasures.
18. Things that are different no compared to five (or two or ten) years ago.
19. 20 things that help me feel my body.
20. 20 other things I can do when I want to drink or use drugs. *
That's their list of lists. I can't make this stuff up. so I started working on number 1. I got to 9 so far. It's a work in progress. And I figure I can move on to another list while thinking about the list before. Cause nine things on any of those lists is more helpful than nothing.
there was also a sheet about options for responding to triggers. And managing automatic reactions to triggers. Oh I coulda used that one yesterday. And the one about containment vs. stuffing was very interesting. And a whole page on comforting yourself. How very interesting that when my therapist first suggested comforting myself I really had no idea what he meant. He had to explain it twice. Very slowly. Spelled it all out.
I had a very troubling flashback in class. disturbing. Cause I wasn't there for a few minutes. I could be mistaken but I think this might be what happens when the kids tell me I said they could do something and I have no recollection of having been asked. and it's not like they asked me daysd ago...no, minutes.
Errr. I got the call from PAAR. And I didn't get the message until it was too late to call! I'll call back on Tuesday. I seriously did NOT expect to hear from anyone so soon. Seriously.
This may sound silly but I just realized that I don't have to judge others to keep myself safe from them. I can make an assessment and if I'm not comfortable I can move on. I'm just making decision for myself. No judgments required.
I found a poem that someone left on my blog back in February as a comment to my poem which I was sure no one would understand. I read the poem today and was left in tearful wonder.
The poem that was left was like an arm around my shoulders. It was awesome cause I mostly think no one gets it. Whoever this blogger is not only got it but left me a hand on my shoulder to be getting on with. Like a hug to my soul.
I'm working with coping mechanisms in my book. Uh, 24. some more active than others. Like, I have a good healthier mechanism for the alcoholism.
I was to pick 4 that I wanted to look at more closely. So, I picked anorexia, leaving my body, dogmatic beliefs, and perfectionism. I thought they would be the best since I've been working on them anyway. In my world of easily overwhelmed I didn't want to add more prongs to the whip I beat myself with.
The anorexia has a mind of its own, or so it seems. Even when I try to be really conscious of eating and prepare to eat it still ends up not happening. Sometimes. Especially when I've got stuff on my mind. Like yesterday. And Wednesday. Thursday was better. Maybe I should keep a log so I have a clearer idea of what is going on. I just don't think *oh, you haven't eaten yet* until it is a day later. I'm not sure how that happens.
Leaving my body is apparently more of a problem than I thought. I think it happens, momentarily, and I'm not aware. I think it happens in class. I think that's what is going on when the kids say I told them they could do something and I have no memory of being asked. Scary. Usually its just asking to go to the bathroom or get a drink or go to another center but its disturbing nevertheless.
Dogmatic beliefs are a little easier. I have been finding that if I look for the actual belief I find I can look for the grey areas more easily. Cause the actual belief is often quite odd or funny.
And perfectionism is already on the radar and in process.
The harder task was figuring out what these behaviours serve and if there are still good things about them. Maybe, in some situations. I'm letting that rest for now. And then finding healthier coping mechanisms to replace them with. I'm working on it. Some are easier than others. The hardest one might be the most important though. Really, I think it involves a lot. There is so much loaded into the anorexia. Like power and control and punishment. I want to think the first step is a rigid eating schedule but that might defeat the purpose and be a different coping mechanism that I'm trying to work on. Sheesh!
I planted my garden today. Tomatoes and zucchini and lettuce. I put down the newspaper for mulch and weed barrier. I need to get mulch but that's not happening today. At least the plants are in and the newspaper is down. Good god! I have so many worms! Every time I turned the earth I turned up a couple! This is good. Helps the horrible clay soil. Which is much less clay-like than it has ever been.
This post is disjointed. Like my thought processes.
tomorrow, Sunshine and I go to Chris' for the first pool party of the year! Yeah! Those pool parties saved mah fuckin' ass last summer. For real! Somehow, sun, friends, and water came together to be a bit of sanity.
I got some very useful stuff in some handouts from the class last night. Like:
*The List of Lists
1. 20 things that help when I feel overwhelmed.
2. 20 things that help when I am suicidal.
3. 20 things that help when I think I might hurt myself.
4. 20 things that help when I am having a hard time dealing with memories.
5. 20 things that help when I am anxious or having panic attacks.
6. 20 ways I can comfort myself.
7. People who can support me.
8. Things of the present: how I know it is this year.
9. 20 things I really like to do.
10. Places I can go when I fell miserable.
11. 20 useful things to do with my anger.
12. things that help me cry when I need to.
13. things of beauty and pleasure in my life today.
14. Nourishing foods I like.
15. the things I most need to remember about myself.
16. 2o things that help me get/stay grounded.
17. My favorite things: a list of treasures.
18. Things that are different no compared to five (or two or ten) years ago.
19. 20 things that help me feel my body.
20. 20 other things I can do when I want to drink or use drugs. *
That's their list of lists. I can't make this stuff up. so I started working on number 1. I got to 9 so far. It's a work in progress. And I figure I can move on to another list while thinking about the list before. Cause nine things on any of those lists is more helpful than nothing.
there was also a sheet about options for responding to triggers. And managing automatic reactions to triggers. Oh I coulda used that one yesterday. And the one about containment vs. stuffing was very interesting. And a whole page on comforting yourself. How very interesting that when my therapist first suggested comforting myself I really had no idea what he meant. He had to explain it twice. Very slowly. Spelled it all out.
I had a very troubling flashback in class. disturbing. Cause I wasn't there for a few minutes. I could be mistaken but I think this might be what happens when the kids tell me I said they could do something and I have no recollection of having been asked. and it's not like they asked me daysd ago...no, minutes.
Errr. I got the call from PAAR. And I didn't get the message until it was too late to call! I'll call back on Tuesday. I seriously did NOT expect to hear from anyone so soon. Seriously.
This may sound silly but I just realized that I don't have to judge others to keep myself safe from them. I can make an assessment and if I'm not comfortable I can move on. I'm just making decision for myself. No judgments required.
I found a poem that someone left on my blog back in February as a comment to my poem which I was sure no one would understand. I read the poem today and was left in tearful wonder.
The poem that was left was like an arm around my shoulders. It was awesome cause I mostly think no one gets it. Whoever this blogger is not only got it but left me a hand on my shoulder to be getting on with. Like a hug to my soul.
I'm working with coping mechanisms in my book. Uh, 24. some more active than others. Like, I have a good healthier mechanism for the alcoholism.
I was to pick 4 that I wanted to look at more closely. So, I picked anorexia, leaving my body, dogmatic beliefs, and perfectionism. I thought they would be the best since I've been working on them anyway. In my world of easily overwhelmed I didn't want to add more prongs to the whip I beat myself with.
The anorexia has a mind of its own, or so it seems. Even when I try to be really conscious of eating and prepare to eat it still ends up not happening. Sometimes. Especially when I've got stuff on my mind. Like yesterday. And Wednesday. Thursday was better. Maybe I should keep a log so I have a clearer idea of what is going on. I just don't think *oh, you haven't eaten yet* until it is a day later. I'm not sure how that happens.
Leaving my body is apparently more of a problem than I thought. I think it happens, momentarily, and I'm not aware. I think it happens in class. I think that's what is going on when the kids say I told them they could do something and I have no memory of being asked. Scary. Usually its just asking to go to the bathroom or get a drink or go to another center but its disturbing nevertheless.
Dogmatic beliefs are a little easier. I have been finding that if I look for the actual belief I find I can look for the grey areas more easily. Cause the actual belief is often quite odd or funny.
And perfectionism is already on the radar and in process.
The harder task was figuring out what these behaviours serve and if there are still good things about them. Maybe, in some situations. I'm letting that rest for now. And then finding healthier coping mechanisms to replace them with. I'm working on it. Some are easier than others. The hardest one might be the most important though. Really, I think it involves a lot. There is so much loaded into the anorexia. Like power and control and punishment. I want to think the first step is a rigid eating schedule but that might defeat the purpose and be a different coping mechanism that I'm trying to work on. Sheesh!
I planted my garden today. Tomatoes and zucchini and lettuce. I put down the newspaper for mulch and weed barrier. I need to get mulch but that's not happening today. At least the plants are in and the newspaper is down. Good god! I have so many worms! Every time I turned the earth I turned up a couple! This is good. Helps the horrible clay soil. Which is much less clay-like than it has ever been.
This post is disjointed. Like my thought processes.
tomorrow, Sunshine and I go to Chris' for the first pool party of the year! Yeah! Those pool parties saved mah fuckin' ass last summer. For real! Somehow, sun, friends, and water came together to be a bit of sanity.
Wednesday, May 25, 2011
Here/Not Here
I am having buckets of flashbacks and triggers. It's disturbing. But it also leaves me wondering HOW did I NOT have them before? Or did I and I just pretended they weren't important? Just treated the physical pain that comes in their wake with advil which I am not supposed to take.
Must have.
I went to the second Getting Strated class tonight and learned that there is a name for what I've been doing breaking down difficult work into little pieces. It is called containment. Huh.
Now I can wait for someone to call to set up therapy.
I have been looking at the coping mechanisms that I used/ use. That is difficult. Perhaps I'll share those soon. But not tonight.
Must have.
I went to the second Getting Strated class tonight and learned that there is a name for what I've been doing breaking down difficult work into little pieces. It is called containment. Huh.
Now I can wait for someone to call to set up therapy.
I have been looking at the coping mechanisms that I used/ use. That is difficult. Perhaps I'll share those soon. But not tonight.
Monday, May 23, 2011
new dreams
I had a new dream last night. The doll was telling me important stuff that I needed to write down. And she wasn't terrifying or trying to kill me. But I had to go and she told me to put the paper and pen in a teddy bear. So I did. I have no idea what I wrote down although I tried to remember. That's okay. When the time is right I'll know. For now it is enough that the doll is not so terrifying. And that she is willing to talk. I KNEW she could. I just didn't know if I could .
So now I know that I can. In the same tiny increments that I am working with the pieces of my abusive past. Bullying memories that have been repressed for years isn't going to be helpful or lead to sanity. If I want sanity and clarity I must go at my own pace and allow this to work me but not rush it. It'll come.
So now I know that I can. In the same tiny increments that I am working with the pieces of my abusive past. Bullying memories that have been repressed for years isn't going to be helpful or lead to sanity. If I want sanity and clarity I must go at my own pace and allow this to work me but not rush it. It'll come.
Saturday, May 21, 2011
apology sort of
I'm sort of sorry this blog is so depressing. Sort of. But, you see, if it wan't so depressing, if I hadn't had it as an outlet, maybe, just maybe, I wouldn't have made it through this past year. Ya never know what the little things mean. I don't know if it's the sound of the keys or the expressing of myself but it's helpful. So, bear with me if there are readers. and if not, well, that might be a good thing. No one to depress with my sad blog.
Yes, I was taught that I need to be Little Mary Sunshine for people to like me. Oh well. If you're gonna like me ya might as well know that I'm funny, sad, quite damaged, love dogs, brave, will sing anywhere, and at the moment ... hungry! Bye.
Yes, I was taught that I need to be Little Mary Sunshine for people to like me. Oh well. If you're gonna like me ya might as well know that I'm funny, sad, quite damaged, love dogs, brave, will sing anywhere, and at the moment ... hungry! Bye.
Thursday, May 19, 2011
Damn! This is one depressing blog! I just read over my posts from January til now . Fuck. Really, I'm not that miserable. I must pour all my misery into this blog. Oh well, let it rest here.
Here, I'll try to lighten things up with a little (twisted) tale from school today: I got locked in the outdoor equipment shed! I was in there getting a frisbee and the door swung too and the latch caught. It wasn't really locked but it wouldn't open either. I called another teacher on my cell phone and after she stopped laughing she came and let me out. I knew help was on the way because I could hear Carolyn laughing all the way down the path!
Back to my normal fare:
I went to the first Getting Started class at PAAR last night. (Pittsburgh Action Against Rape, rememer?) Well, it was just a lecture but it was both difficult to hear and reassuring and informational. It explained some things. Like the gaps in my memory. Last night's class was on PTSD. I asked the question of what happens if ya find the classes to be too much? the answer? You're not ready. Naturally I was upset by the answer. I heard abandonment in the answer.
I think I'm ready and my therapist thinks I'm ready. He thinks this will be helpful.
Let's hope I can hang on. I only have to go to one more class before I begin the 2-6 week wait for someone to call about counseling.
I'm walking. Just walking and breathing.
Here, I'll try to lighten things up with a little (twisted) tale from school today: I got locked in the outdoor equipment shed! I was in there getting a frisbee and the door swung too and the latch caught. It wasn't really locked but it wouldn't open either. I called another teacher on my cell phone and after she stopped laughing she came and let me out. I knew help was on the way because I could hear Carolyn laughing all the way down the path!
Back to my normal fare:
I went to the first Getting Started class at PAAR last night. (Pittsburgh Action Against Rape, rememer?) Well, it was just a lecture but it was both difficult to hear and reassuring and informational. It explained some things. Like the gaps in my memory. Last night's class was on PTSD. I asked the question of what happens if ya find the classes to be too much? the answer? You're not ready. Naturally I was upset by the answer. I heard abandonment in the answer.
I think I'm ready and my therapist thinks I'm ready. He thinks this will be helpful.
Let's hope I can hang on. I only have to go to one more class before I begin the 2-6 week wait for someone to call about counseling.
I'm walking. Just walking and breathing.
Monday, May 16, 2011
Basic But Not Easy
So I'm working with some pretty basic skills here.
- Asking for help.
- Comforting myself.
- Nurturing myself.
- Not using the healing process in my normal bull headed, full steam ahead 'til I drop fashion.
This is not easy. It is not even easy to look at. Back up. Okay. What have I eliminated that is not really necessary? A LOT. I have been in a crisis on and off (mostly on) for a year. I have managed to function. Which means that I have already figured out that I have to prioritize my life. I have. I have cut out a lot of stuff that I jsut could not manage to do and function on any level. I AM a survivour. I've figured that out. And I have asked for help. a lot of help, really. Which is not easy. My whole body relaxes into the task of helping others. Try it. Come to me with a really devastaing problem, or even a little one. I will relax and breathe and help you figure out what it is you need to do. On a bad day I might even do some of the things you need and are able to do for yourself for you. This, people, is my forte. I am a living breathing Dear Abby. But I relax into these tasks because I don't have to think about or work on me while I am fixing you. I know.
So, the Universe decided for me that I need to change that and brought things front and centre that I could not avoid doing something about. She's like that. I even asked Her to be like that. I even said I trust Her and have turned my will and my life over to Her. Things happen when you do that. Big things. But they can't be forced.
Three times over the last 24 hours I have had people tell me *don't rush this*. Okay. I hear You. I'm just trying to *lean into my pain* (Pema Chodron). But it's okay to lean back out and catch my breath. I'm not stopping. I'm just catching my breath.
Sunday, May 15, 2011
How to Not Get into a Crisis
Things are settling. This is good. Two people told me my energy was clearer than a few days ago. I had an emergency session with my therapist on Tuesday. I was shocked that he thought it was THAT important. Hmm. That's one of the ways I just don't deal with this. *It's not important*. It was very important to have some people whose opinions I value tell me that indeed it is.
I have a habit of diving into things head first and realizing I'm in deep shit after the fact. I do it with life, I do it with knitting. In knitting it means I start things I don't have the skill to finish properly. In life it means I end up in a crisis. Which I do NOT handle well. I get angry and spin my anger out over the people I really care about but not over the people who caused it. No, no that would be directly confrontational. Back to the topic at hand. So I opened this can of worms my very own self and dove in head first and ended up in a very big crisis indeed. Sending anger splashing all over the place, hating everyone, myself included. Not reaching out. Not really able to once I get to that place. And putting myself in a serious situation where I was overwhelmed to the max. And then I put myself in a place where I think the only solution is to drink or drug my feelings away. Cause I know that works. I also know that it doesn't work very well for me now. No. I've spent 21 years learning how to make different choices. And yes, dear, the Goddess knows that. Cause I walked for many years without a clue to any of this because without those years of walking and learning and growing I would never have been able to do this even though it doesn't feel like I'm doing very well at all.
But I' working with the people at PAAR and with my therapist. This week I am working with the scary doll from my dream (more later) and with finding ways to do this work without getting overwhelmed and have each session become a crisis. How?
I set a timer when I do my homework and after 30 minutes I ask myself how I'm doing. Am I getting overwhelmed? Am I overwhelmed already? Because I often do not realize until it is too late.
This has helped. Yesterday I worked right through the hour and I was well on my way to overwhelmed. But I took the dogs for a walk and then I took a hot bath with scented salt scrub and essential oils. Then I went to bed.
Today. I set the timer for 30 minutes. I checked in with myself at that point and took a break before continuing on with the second half hour. That worked out much better. Plus, I did not finish it all. Which is a personal problem for me (perfectionism) but I decided I needed to stop at the set time. Tomorrow is a new day.
Part of my homework was to establish a specific support network so I asked some people if they would be okay with my calling them if I get overwhelmed. So far my list has 10 absolutelys and 1 we'll try it.
That was SO HARD! I was crying before I started because I was all convinced that no one would want to be bothered. That my friends would all just abandon me.
I am open to the possiblility that some may step out because they find it too much for them. that's okay. That's one of the reasons the list is so long. Thank Goddess I have enough people in my life to create such a long list. And I made sure they all knew what the topic was before they said yes.
The doll. The kids whose grandfather molested me lured me into the house by telling me there was something we needed to get in the house. I needed to come with them. Perhaps it was a doll or a toy of some sort. Maybe we wee playing Barbies. Just a thought.
I've been working with the doll and inviting the dream back. Setting an intention before I go to sleep, etc. Nothing in my dreams but a few bits and pieces while I'm meditating. Like I realized the doll changes shape from an action figure like doll to a teddy bear from hell like thing with wild fur and agry eyes at one point. Much like myself.
I think part of my joints hurting so badly last weekend (I could hardly walk) and aching this weekend is about this stuff being held in my body, and also this: I felt like my legs would betray me and not hold me up. Like I feel like my emotions will betrya me and be so overwhelming that I can't function. Something like that.
tomorrow IS a new day. A day with two staff people off sick so we will have to combine classes with the Preschool.
I have a habit of diving into things head first and realizing I'm in deep shit after the fact. I do it with life, I do it with knitting. In knitting it means I start things I don't have the skill to finish properly. In life it means I end up in a crisis. Which I do NOT handle well. I get angry and spin my anger out over the people I really care about but not over the people who caused it. No, no that would be directly confrontational. Back to the topic at hand. So I opened this can of worms my very own self and dove in head first and ended up in a very big crisis indeed. Sending anger splashing all over the place, hating everyone, myself included. Not reaching out. Not really able to once I get to that place. And putting myself in a serious situation where I was overwhelmed to the max. And then I put myself in a place where I think the only solution is to drink or drug my feelings away. Cause I know that works. I also know that it doesn't work very well for me now. No. I've spent 21 years learning how to make different choices. And yes, dear, the Goddess knows that. Cause I walked for many years without a clue to any of this because without those years of walking and learning and growing I would never have been able to do this even though it doesn't feel like I'm doing very well at all.
But I' working with the people at PAAR and with my therapist. This week I am working with the scary doll from my dream (more later) and with finding ways to do this work without getting overwhelmed and have each session become a crisis. How?
I set a timer when I do my homework and after 30 minutes I ask myself how I'm doing. Am I getting overwhelmed? Am I overwhelmed already? Because I often do not realize until it is too late.
This has helped. Yesterday I worked right through the hour and I was well on my way to overwhelmed. But I took the dogs for a walk and then I took a hot bath with scented salt scrub and essential oils. Then I went to bed.
Today. I set the timer for 30 minutes. I checked in with myself at that point and took a break before continuing on with the second half hour. That worked out much better. Plus, I did not finish it all. Which is a personal problem for me (perfectionism) but I decided I needed to stop at the set time. Tomorrow is a new day.
Part of my homework was to establish a specific support network so I asked some people if they would be okay with my calling them if I get overwhelmed. So far my list has 10 absolutelys and 1 we'll try it.
That was SO HARD! I was crying before I started because I was all convinced that no one would want to be bothered. That my friends would all just abandon me.
I am open to the possiblility that some may step out because they find it too much for them. that's okay. That's one of the reasons the list is so long. Thank Goddess I have enough people in my life to create such a long list. And I made sure they all knew what the topic was before they said yes.
The doll. The kids whose grandfather molested me lured me into the house by telling me there was something we needed to get in the house. I needed to come with them. Perhaps it was a doll or a toy of some sort. Maybe we wee playing Barbies. Just a thought.
I've been working with the doll and inviting the dream back. Setting an intention before I go to sleep, etc. Nothing in my dreams but a few bits and pieces while I'm meditating. Like I realized the doll changes shape from an action figure like doll to a teddy bear from hell like thing with wild fur and agry eyes at one point. Much like myself.
I think part of my joints hurting so badly last weekend (I could hardly walk) and aching this weekend is about this stuff being held in my body, and also this: I felt like my legs would betray me and not hold me up. Like I feel like my emotions will betrya me and be so overwhelming that I can't function. Something like that.
tomorrow IS a new day. A day with two staff people off sick so we will have to combine classes with the Preschool.
Wednesday, May 11, 2011
I passed my business class with a B and told a prospective student's parents that I do not think our Kindergarten will serve his needs. he has needs that far outstrip the abilities and resources of our little private school. Yep.
I hated doing that. It is the first time in 26 years that I have had to do that. It needed done though. We have been loving and trying to help this child for three years. He needs more than we can give.
I hated doing that. It is the first time in 26 years that I have had to do that. It needed done though. We have been loving and trying to help this child for three years. He needs more than we can give.
So I've got a dream doll that terrifies me, a good therapist, I've set up some counseling with an entity that specializes in sexual abuse issues and behaviour. I also have a network of friends that I can talk to. Although I am currently working on telling myself that when I tell myself they don't care or have time it is a lie.
I am also currently working on using the crisis line that operates through my therpaist's office. First, I have to define *crisis*. This is not so easy as it might seem. Espeicailly when I'm not bleeding from an artery or something. At least not so as one could tell.
Saturday I was bleeding from the artery that carries anger. And fear and pain and shame and, and, and....
But I could not put that into words on Sautrday.
Next time, maybe I'll be able to put words to it. Maybe. these things seem to come from a place where verbal language fails me. Which complicates the whole *call the crisis line, call a friend* thing. Although, when I am calmer I know that I have friends I COULD call when I am like that and they might be able to help me find my words.
I think that one of the reasons I have always been so resistant to change is because I KNEW it would *release the doll* and put me in a place where I would have to begin a dialogue with her.
That dream wasn't new. It is quite old actually. It predates any film with maniacal dolls.
I am willing to dialogue with her. Although it scares the crap out of me. I think pertified is appropriate. I told her last night that I was open to hearing what she has to say and then I was overwhelmed with fear.
Oh boy. Bring on the change.
Koré Chant *
She changes everything She touches
And everything She touches changes
Her name cannot be spoken, Her face was not forgotten
Her power is to open, Her promise can never be broken
All seeds She deeply buries, She weaves the thread of seasons
Her secret, darkness carries, She loves beyond all reason
All sleeping seeds She wakens, The rainbow is Her token
Now winter's power is taken, In love all chains are broken
Everything lost is found again, In a new form, in a new way
Everything hurt is healed again, In a new time, in a new day
Bright as a flower and strong as a tree
With our love and with our rage
Breaking our chains so we can be free
With our love and with our rage
We are, Changers, Everything we touch can change
Change is, Touch is, Touch is, Change is
Change us, Touch us, Touch us, Change us
- Lauren Liebling, Starhawk
I am also currently working on using the crisis line that operates through my therpaist's office. First, I have to define *crisis*. This is not so easy as it might seem. Espeicailly when I'm not bleeding from an artery or something. At least not so as one could tell.
Saturday I was bleeding from the artery that carries anger. And fear and pain and shame and, and, and....
But I could not put that into words on Sautrday.
Next time, maybe I'll be able to put words to it. Maybe. these things seem to come from a place where verbal language fails me. Which complicates the whole *call the crisis line, call a friend* thing. Although, when I am calmer I know that I have friends I COULD call when I am like that and they might be able to help me find my words.
I think that one of the reasons I have always been so resistant to change is because I KNEW it would *release the doll* and put me in a place where I would have to begin a dialogue with her.
That dream wasn't new. It is quite old actually. It predates any film with maniacal dolls.
I am willing to dialogue with her. Although it scares the crap out of me. I think pertified is appropriate. I told her last night that I was open to hearing what she has to say and then I was overwhelmed with fear.
Oh boy. Bring on the change.
Koré Chant *
She changes everything She touches
And everything She touches changes
Her name cannot be spoken, Her face was not forgotten
Her power is to open, Her promise can never be broken
All seeds She deeply buries, She weaves the thread of seasons
Her secret, darkness carries, She loves beyond all reason
All sleeping seeds She wakens, The rainbow is Her token
Now winter's power is taken, In love all chains are broken
Everything lost is found again, In a new form, in a new way
Everything hurt is healed again, In a new time, in a new day
Bright as a flower and strong as a tree
With our love and with our rage
Breaking our chains so we can be free
With our love and with our rage
We are, Changers, Everything we touch can change
Change is, Touch is, Touch is, Change is
Change us, Touch us, Touch us, Change us
- Lauren Liebling, Starhawk
Tuesday, May 10, 2011
dolls with teeth like a pirannah
There is a certain strange peace in the process of allowing horrific possibilities accompanied by panic followed by calm. Very weird. Sometimes it feels like I'm someone else.
My therapist thinks the doll is my hate-filled frozen self and the practises I use to repress stuff (like drinking). But he also said that dream interpretation is subjective. Filled as it is by the myriad of things in the unconscious.
He suggested I ask the doll what she needs/wants. I suggested I through her in the fire. He said I probably don't want to do that because she holds a lot of information.
Okay, talking to her just scare the crap out of me. She's vicious! He said that's because she holds my rage. Can't she just keep it? No, I know. She can't or she'll just keep biting me in my sleep.
I realized today that the dream isn't new. I've been having it since I was a kid. He thinks she popped up because I wanted to drink to stop the feelings. Great. My addiction has a face. It ain't a cute one either.
Looks like there might be some trance work with this doll in my future.
I also asked my therpaist what he thought about me contacting Paar (Pittsburgh Action Against Rape). If he thought it was like having two sponsors or something. Working against getting any real work done. He asked me about the classes I have to take before they'll see me and he thought they were sensible and probably quite useful. They are about trauma and dissociation, self-injury, PTSD and triggers, and anger. He said that it might help get past some of the resistance we keep running into and if they don't do what I expect them to do or they aren't working I can always stop going.
he also mentioned, again, that perhaps I should have called the crisis line. Hmm. And he said to do that if he is not in the office between now and next week. I said okay.
Off to eat dinner. Apparently, not doing so is a form of self-abuse.
My therapist thinks the doll is my hate-filled frozen self and the practises I use to repress stuff (like drinking). But he also said that dream interpretation is subjective. Filled as it is by the myriad of things in the unconscious.
He suggested I ask the doll what she needs/wants. I suggested I through her in the fire. He said I probably don't want to do that because she holds a lot of information.
Okay, talking to her just scare the crap out of me. She's vicious! He said that's because she holds my rage. Can't she just keep it? No, I know. She can't or she'll just keep biting me in my sleep.
I realized today that the dream isn't new. I've been having it since I was a kid. He thinks she popped up because I wanted to drink to stop the feelings. Great. My addiction has a face. It ain't a cute one either.
Looks like there might be some trance work with this doll in my future.
I also asked my therpaist what he thought about me contacting Paar (Pittsburgh Action Against Rape). If he thought it was like having two sponsors or something. Working against getting any real work done. He asked me about the classes I have to take before they'll see me and he thought they were sensible and probably quite useful. They are about trauma and dissociation, self-injury, PTSD and triggers, and anger. He said that it might help get past some of the resistance we keep running into and if they don't do what I expect them to do or they aren't working I can always stop going.
he also mentioned, again, that perhaps I should have called the crisis line. Hmm. And he said to do that if he is not in the office between now and next week. I said okay.
Off to eat dinner. Apparently, not doing so is a form of self-abuse.
Monday, May 9, 2011
I lit the fire under this one my own self. I set the cauldron to boil and I can't even say I didn't know what I was brewing up. Okay, maybe not on a really conscious level like I'm going to wear these socks, but I did know deep down where I keep the things I'm not looking at.
I might as well just say that I think dad molested me when mum was in the hospital. I have no proof. Just odd memories that keep popping up with a sickening feeling. Just that this particular memory won't go away ---for a week. My head tells me it is not possible and the rest of me tells me it is so.
I had an horrific dream last night with a doll that kept trying to bite me and hurt me even after I had pulled off it's limbs and head. And though it looked like plastic it was flesh and bone. And terrifying. And there was a deeper unformed, unnamed horrifying thing that I *knew* but it was not visible.
And the molestation when I was seven always had a connection to dad but I could not look at why. I KNEW why. I just could not look at it.
The scene in our kitchen in our apartment always went with the other memory. Always. I'm less than 2 years old. I'm crying and he's mad at me for crying. apparently. I had no reason to be crying. I know, it's not much. But it's all there is for now.
I have not been able to breathe since I started working with this stuff. Yep it was bad. I felt like there were fingers pressing on my throat keeping the air out, squeezing. I don't feel like that now. Now I can breathe and the headache that arrived full-blown when I let the thought first process went away as quickly when I wrote that in my journal.
I've been having this bump up against my consciousness for a long time but I pushed it away every time. Cause, really, all I have is a memory that doesn't really support it and the visceral fear of my dad. Like being in a bubble of fear. On my skin, in my ears.
I can't pretend to know WHAT happened. Cause I don't. All I know is the two episodes have always been linked and it would not go back into it's box.
Three circle in less than 24 hours. And, I never felt the need to cast a circle to write in my journal before.
Therapist, tomorrow. Special emergency session.
I might as well just say that I think dad molested me when mum was in the hospital. I have no proof. Just odd memories that keep popping up with a sickening feeling. Just that this particular memory won't go away ---for a week. My head tells me it is not possible and the rest of me tells me it is so.
I had an horrific dream last night with a doll that kept trying to bite me and hurt me even after I had pulled off it's limbs and head. And though it looked like plastic it was flesh and bone. And terrifying. And there was a deeper unformed, unnamed horrifying thing that I *knew* but it was not visible.
And the molestation when I was seven always had a connection to dad but I could not look at why. I KNEW why. I just could not look at it.
The scene in our kitchen in our apartment always went with the other memory. Always. I'm less than 2 years old. I'm crying and he's mad at me for crying. apparently. I had no reason to be crying. I know, it's not much. But it's all there is for now.
I have not been able to breathe since I started working with this stuff. Yep it was bad. I felt like there were fingers pressing on my throat keeping the air out, squeezing. I don't feel like that now. Now I can breathe and the headache that arrived full-blown when I let the thought first process went away as quickly when I wrote that in my journal.
I've been having this bump up against my consciousness for a long time but I pushed it away every time. Cause, really, all I have is a memory that doesn't really support it and the visceral fear of my dad. Like being in a bubble of fear. On my skin, in my ears.
I can't pretend to know WHAT happened. Cause I don't. All I know is the two episodes have always been linked and it would not go back into it's box.
Three circle in less than 24 hours. And, I never felt the need to cast a circle to write in my journal before.
Therapist, tomorrow. Special emergency session.
Sunday, May 8, 2011
dreams
I had a dream last night. a scary one. A nightmare? I'm not sure what the difference is.
So, there was this castle. It was ghastly on the outside. I can't really remember why I thought that but it was dark and craggy and pointy with lots of shadowy unclear spaces. The inside was bright and modern and light and comfortably decorated. And the family who lived there seemed friendly and smiling and normal. But there was also a terrifying (to me) secret in this place. I find that more scary than the doll that I kept having to protect myself from. She kept trying to hurt me, take bites out of me, push me off ledges. Even witout her limbs, even without her head. She was not made of plastic but of flesh and bone. But she looked plastic. She was so tenacious, unstoppable. So frightening even though she was only eight or so inches tall. Shye even perused me into wakefulness. I got up to go to the bathroom and she seemed to be there in all the shadows which were threatening and malicious even when I knew exactly what made them.
But under that there was something fearful that was not clear. That had no form, or shape or name. No definition. Just the knowing that it was there and that it was terrifying.
I think it's formless, namelessness is the scariest part.
So, there was this castle. It was ghastly on the outside. I can't really remember why I thought that but it was dark and craggy and pointy with lots of shadowy unclear spaces. The inside was bright and modern and light and comfortably decorated. And the family who lived there seemed friendly and smiling and normal. But there was also a terrifying (to me) secret in this place. I find that more scary than the doll that I kept having to protect myself from. She kept trying to hurt me, take bites out of me, push me off ledges. Even witout her limbs, even without her head. She was not made of plastic but of flesh and bone. But she looked plastic. She was so tenacious, unstoppable. So frightening even though she was only eight or so inches tall. Shye even perused me into wakefulness. I got up to go to the bathroom and she seemed to be there in all the shadows which were threatening and malicious even when I knew exactly what made them.
But under that there was something fearful that was not clear. That had no form, or shape or name. No definition. Just the knowing that it was there and that it was terrifying.
I think it's formless, namelessness is the scariest part.
Saturday, May 7, 2011
feelings, facts, fun
Well, actually there wasn't much *fun*. Useful, yes. fun, well....
I mentioned I was avoiding writing? Well, I decided I might as well do it sooner rather than later. So I cast a circle, yes, I have learned some things, and started writing. Um, 12 pages later...I was furious. Not only that but, oddly I was jealous of people I don't even know for having, so I suppose, things that I don't have. No, not tangible things. (Language is not my friend right now)
but relationships I assume I do not have, no I have not tested that theory. I got pissed off at G for posting about someone else having a bad day and maybe someone should call her...Hey! call me! (but when he saw me this morning I was fine)
I got pissed at L because I assume she is busy. No, I did not call or email or anything. I just made an assumption. Oh yeah. My anger fed itself and grew and attached itself to anything it could think of. And it is pretty damn creative.
And angry is a lonely place cause
I don't know why.
So, back to circle. Okay. Fucking help me out here! (this is called *prayer* sometimes.
So, here is where I am and here is hurt and angry and sad. It's not L's fault or G's fault or any of the other people I wanted to be all pissed off at. While the Goddess was gentle and comforting nothing has actually changed. I'm still sad, really sad. A sad so deep there are no tears. That would actually be helpful. Cause at this point I think I am only *safe* with the Divine. Otherwise...things could go badly. Okay, so I am assuming again that no one in human form can witness my rage, hurt, sadness. Okay. I'm afraid to find out.
I watched a guy at the meeting this morning. He had his daughter with him. Maybe 4 years old. He was so gentle with her. Like she was made of thin glass. It hurt just to watch and yet it was a beautiful thing to behold.
It hurt to have my face washed, it hurt to have my hair combed, it hurt to be given a bath. What must it be like to be touched so gently?
I mentioned I was avoiding writing? Well, I decided I might as well do it sooner rather than later. So I cast a circle, yes, I have learned some things, and started writing. Um, 12 pages later...I was furious. Not only that but, oddly I was jealous of people I don't even know for having, so I suppose, things that I don't have. No, not tangible things. (Language is not my friend right now)
but relationships I assume I do not have, no I have not tested that theory. I got pissed off at G for posting about someone else having a bad day and maybe someone should call her...Hey! call me! (but when he saw me this morning I was fine)
I got pissed at L because I assume she is busy. No, I did not call or email or anything. I just made an assumption. Oh yeah. My anger fed itself and grew and attached itself to anything it could think of. And it is pretty damn creative.
And angry is a lonely place cause
I don't know why.
So, back to circle. Okay. Fucking help me out here! (this is called *prayer* sometimes.
So, here is where I am and here is hurt and angry and sad. It's not L's fault or G's fault or any of the other people I wanted to be all pissed off at. While the Goddess was gentle and comforting nothing has actually changed. I'm still sad, really sad. A sad so deep there are no tears. That would actually be helpful. Cause at this point I think I am only *safe* with the Divine. Otherwise...things could go badly. Okay, so I am assuming again that no one in human form can witness my rage, hurt, sadness. Okay. I'm afraid to find out.
I watched a guy at the meeting this morning. He had his daughter with him. Maybe 4 years old. He was so gentle with her. Like she was made of thin glass. It hurt just to watch and yet it was a beautiful thing to behold.
It hurt to have my face washed, it hurt to have my hair combed, it hurt to be given a bath. What must it be like to be touched so gently?
Friday, April 22, 2011
nearly over
Things I've learned:
Business classes are not for sissies.
I am a raging perfectionist.
I'm working on that. Check back next week. Maybe I'll have it all figured out. =+}
I kinda thought the class would knock me off my goal of writing in my blog every day. It did. The class is nearly over and my grade should be an A as long as I don't get stupid on the final. I'd like to make a suicide joke here but I'm in recovery from my snarkiness so I will refrain. Suffice it to say that getting that A and a B I got on a test was nearly fatal. Clearly, that is no way to live. Not my choice, just something that I have only just recently figured out.
Business classes are not for sissies.
I am a raging perfectionist.
I'm working on that. Check back next week. Maybe I'll have it all figured out. =+}
I kinda thought the class would knock me off my goal of writing in my blog every day. It did. The class is nearly over and my grade should be an A as long as I don't get stupid on the final. I'd like to make a suicide joke here but I'm in recovery from my snarkiness so I will refrain. Suffice it to say that getting that A and a B I got on a test was nearly fatal. Clearly, that is no way to live. Not my choice, just something that I have only just recently figured out.
Thursday, March 3, 2011
be more still
Update on the talk with my sponsor:
So we met Sunday morning and we had a talk. Mostly I had a listen. But I told her I was getting a new sponsor and she said:
I need to work steps 11 and 12 or I will be drunk soon.
I need to talk to more people.
I need to share my experience , strength, and hope at meetings.
I should ask people if they have a sponsor and if they don't I should offer to sponsor them.
When I shared about how I got 21 years at the meeting on Friday I let my low self-esteem get in the way of really telling my truth.
She will still be my sponsor until I find a new one cause that's how we do it.
She is not going to cosign my feelings bullshit anymore.
She said to paste a smile on my face and shake people's hands. No matter how I feel.
I am not to work steps 4 and 5 anymore I am supposed to work 11 and 12.
On steps 11 and 12: I have been meditating for years. I may do it badly, but I show up and I sit through it.
Some days are better than others.
There are many parts to step 12 other than sponsorship. I do sponsor people. One of them actually talks to me and it working the steps.
As for step 12...I am having a spiritual awakening these days like nothing that I've ever had before. How can that not be wroking step 12? But she does not want to hear about that so she does not listen.
I go to meetings, I share my truth as best I can, I talk to people at meetings, I am on the call list at the central office and when they call with someone's number I always call that person and talk to them and offer to take them to a meeting. I listen at meetings which is 12th step work too. And I'm present which is 12th step work. I have been in every kind of service position there is except intergroup or on the area committee. I don't really know what else there might be.
I talk to lots of people at every meeting I go to. some I know and some I don't know. I regularly hand out my number to the suffering alcoholic whether they are new or not.
When I share it is the honest truth as I see it at the moment. It is my experience and the strength and hope is that even when it sucks A LOT I still come to a meeting and I don't drink and I work a step.
I might ask someone if they wanted me to be their temporary sponsor if it seemed like it might be helpful. I think it is part of the process that people get to do their own asking and to assign myself their aponsor takes away their power. Yeah, it's hard to ask for help. But it is part of step one.
When I answered the question *how'd you do that?* I spoke of how difficult it was to meet the promise I made to Kathy to go to any lengths. And it was. This ain't a journey about how easy it was. My point was that there were lots of difficult things I had to do but I had agreed to go to any lengths and I met that as best I could. I don't think that was about my low self-esteem.
She may think she is my sponsor but I will be using other phone numbers of people who answer their phone for now.
My feelings bullshit: ?? ok.
Pasting a smile: This relates to the above topic. My feelings are never bullshit. I would rather shake hands with everyone in a meeting with tears streaming down my face and being real than *paste* a fake smile on my face.
I explained that I am new in the world of varied feelings and I do not think I have enough skill to pretend to be something I am not and keep the honesty going and still be present. I need to allow my feelings to be what they are and not pretend they are something else.
My 12th step work for now might be to show others that no matter what my feelings are I can still show up and stay sober and so can they.
If I start thinking I need to stay home because I don't feel like Little Mary Sunshine that might be a problem.
I listeneed to all that she was saying because she weemed so sincere. And I am sure she was.
But she has still not actually heard what I've been saying. She kept throwing up at me that I have 21 years and I need to start acting like it. I don't know what that means and I said so. That was when she said I needed to paste a smile on my face and shake hands. That was also when she said I don't share my experience, strength, and hope. I share what I know. I can only share my experience, and my strength and hope is that it does work, really. Even when I am just hanging on by a thread.
Boundary issues she has I think. She can't hear my issues cause she hasn't worked on her own. Cause her therapist let her go for going to her mother's funeral (her therapist's mother's funeral) So, whe is not very supportive of anything MY therapist has to say. She has even told me not to do things that he has suggested. But since he is actually able to hear what I am saying I think I'll go with his suggestions instead.
Now that I am not calling her and trying to talk to her she talks to me! At the meeting last night whe actually sought me out to talk to. Several times. That's a change from the avoidance behaviour of just the days before we talked.
Apparently, she wants to be my friend, just not my sponsor. Hmm. Well, I'm not sure I want to be that friendly just yet.
I'm not angry with her. Really. I checked in with myself on that one more than once. I'm not. Do I trust her? No. Do I want to be her friend? Maybe. But then, why do I want to be her friend if I don't trust her? Good question. But since we travel in the same circles I do not want to alienate her. Or make my own life difficult by being all righteous and shit.
So, I will have to find a medium place to be. Plus, I feel compassion for her. I am just like her in many ways. So, I'll let the Goddess work out just how friendly I need to be.
So we met Sunday morning and we had a talk. Mostly I had a listen. But I told her I was getting a new sponsor and she said:
I need to work steps 11 and 12 or I will be drunk soon.
I need to talk to more people.
I need to share my experience , strength, and hope at meetings.
I should ask people if they have a sponsor and if they don't I should offer to sponsor them.
When I shared about how I got 21 years at the meeting on Friday I let my low self-esteem get in the way of really telling my truth.
She will still be my sponsor until I find a new one cause that's how we do it.
She is not going to cosign my feelings bullshit anymore.
She said to paste a smile on my face and shake people's hands. No matter how I feel.
I am not to work steps 4 and 5 anymore I am supposed to work 11 and 12.
On steps 11 and 12: I have been meditating for years. I may do it badly, but I show up and I sit through it.
Some days are better than others.
There are many parts to step 12 other than sponsorship. I do sponsor people. One of them actually talks to me and it working the steps.
As for step 12...I am having a spiritual awakening these days like nothing that I've ever had before. How can that not be wroking step 12? But she does not want to hear about that so she does not listen.
I go to meetings, I share my truth as best I can, I talk to people at meetings, I am on the call list at the central office and when they call with someone's number I always call that person and talk to them and offer to take them to a meeting. I listen at meetings which is 12th step work too. And I'm present which is 12th step work. I have been in every kind of service position there is except intergroup or on the area committee. I don't really know what else there might be.
I talk to lots of people at every meeting I go to. some I know and some I don't know. I regularly hand out my number to the suffering alcoholic whether they are new or not.
When I share it is the honest truth as I see it at the moment. It is my experience and the strength and hope is that even when it sucks A LOT I still come to a meeting and I don't drink and I work a step.
I might ask someone if they wanted me to be their temporary sponsor if it seemed like it might be helpful. I think it is part of the process that people get to do their own asking and to assign myself their aponsor takes away their power. Yeah, it's hard to ask for help. But it is part of step one.
When I answered the question *how'd you do that?* I spoke of how difficult it was to meet the promise I made to Kathy to go to any lengths. And it was. This ain't a journey about how easy it was. My point was that there were lots of difficult things I had to do but I had agreed to go to any lengths and I met that as best I could. I don't think that was about my low self-esteem.
She may think she is my sponsor but I will be using other phone numbers of people who answer their phone for now.
My feelings bullshit: ?? ok.
Pasting a smile: This relates to the above topic. My feelings are never bullshit. I would rather shake hands with everyone in a meeting with tears streaming down my face and being real than *paste* a fake smile on my face.
I explained that I am new in the world of varied feelings and I do not think I have enough skill to pretend to be something I am not and keep the honesty going and still be present. I need to allow my feelings to be what they are and not pretend they are something else.
My 12th step work for now might be to show others that no matter what my feelings are I can still show up and stay sober and so can they.
If I start thinking I need to stay home because I don't feel like Little Mary Sunshine that might be a problem.
I listeneed to all that she was saying because she weemed so sincere. And I am sure she was.
But she has still not actually heard what I've been saying. She kept throwing up at me that I have 21 years and I need to start acting like it. I don't know what that means and I said so. That was when she said I needed to paste a smile on my face and shake hands. That was also when she said I don't share my experience, strength, and hope. I share what I know. I can only share my experience, and my strength and hope is that it does work, really. Even when I am just hanging on by a thread.
Boundary issues she has I think. She can't hear my issues cause she hasn't worked on her own. Cause her therapist let her go for going to her mother's funeral (her therapist's mother's funeral) So, whe is not very supportive of anything MY therapist has to say. She has even told me not to do things that he has suggested. But since he is actually able to hear what I am saying I think I'll go with his suggestions instead.
Now that I am not calling her and trying to talk to her she talks to me! At the meeting last night whe actually sought me out to talk to. Several times. That's a change from the avoidance behaviour of just the days before we talked.
Apparently, she wants to be my friend, just not my sponsor. Hmm. Well, I'm not sure I want to be that friendly just yet.
I'm not angry with her. Really. I checked in with myself on that one more than once. I'm not. Do I trust her? No. Do I want to be her friend? Maybe. But then, why do I want to be her friend if I don't trust her? Good question. But since we travel in the same circles I do not want to alienate her. Or make my own life difficult by being all righteous and shit.
So, I will have to find a medium place to be. Plus, I feel compassion for her. I am just like her in many ways. So, I'll let the Goddess work out just how friendly I need to be.
business class
So, my class started. Business 101. that's pretty funny cause, if ya knew me you would know I'm not exactly the sort who would choose to take a business class. But it is required for work. So, I'm taking it. I have the wrong text book. I have used the books that previous teachers have used for the other classes I've needed to take. but this one seems to be different. The chapter headings are wrong and not even related. So we'll have to get the right one. But the class has started already. Hopefully I'll have it in time to catch up. But if I can't, well, I shall just chill the fuck out! No point getting worked up about something I can't do anything about at the moment.
Saturday, February 26, 2011
be still
so I was coming *here* to rant about a relationship not going the way I want it to. It's not working for me. And then I took some time to get quiet and be still with myself and my God (s) and i realsied that what is troubling me is fear. I want things to stay the same. I don't want them to change. I am afraid of that change. I've done a lot of changing lately and changed a lot of people in my life. this is tricky for me cause I can choose to not let people in on what's going on in my head and if they don't really know me all that well they might just think I'm okay. Then I can get a little crazy. I need to be honest with the other people in my life and if I do not have solid relationships with them then that seems sorta risky. Fortunately I belong to a fellowship where there is a primary purpose and a theme and a bond built in each persons' own living hell transformed into something new and useful. So if I talk to someone that I don't necessarily know all that well the chances are pretty good that they will understand exactly what I am talking about. Even if you have no idea at this point.
In Alcoholics Anonymous we have a bond with each other formed from our former lives live in a hellish prison and transformed by working the steps. This is a bond that is qwuite awesome to behold.
All that was because tomorrow I must tell my sponsor that I need to change sponsors. This can go well, or badly. but I will try to make *I* statements and not make it about what I think went wrong or what I think she should be doing. Cause she is doing her best and she means well and she HAS helped me along. It is just not working for me anymore and now I clearly see why and how and I need to make a change. this does not mean that I have a new sponsor. No. I do not. But one of the problems with the one I have now is that she is REALLY hard to get a hold of and since we are meeting tomorrow I am going to tell her then. I have been having a difficult time getting her to talk to me on the phone and when we meet in person we do not actually finish a converstation...at least I don't, before she turns to someone else and starts talking. Last week when se were supposed to meet to do a fifth step she started playing with an app on her phone and asking someone else how to download music to this app. Odd.
and she seems to have some reticence about the things I need to talk about. I do not understand. Other people do not have the same reticence. So, it seems best for me to move on.
I hope this was not a rant. I did not intend it to be.
In Alcoholics Anonymous we have a bond with each other formed from our former lives live in a hellish prison and transformed by working the steps. This is a bond that is qwuite awesome to behold.
All that was because tomorrow I must tell my sponsor that I need to change sponsors. This can go well, or badly. but I will try to make *I* statements and not make it about what I think went wrong or what I think she should be doing. Cause she is doing her best and she means well and she HAS helped me along. It is just not working for me anymore and now I clearly see why and how and I need to make a change. this does not mean that I have a new sponsor. No. I do not. But one of the problems with the one I have now is that she is REALLY hard to get a hold of and since we are meeting tomorrow I am going to tell her then. I have been having a difficult time getting her to talk to me on the phone and when we meet in person we do not actually finish a converstation...at least I don't, before she turns to someone else and starts talking. Last week when se were supposed to meet to do a fifth step she started playing with an app on her phone and asking someone else how to download music to this app. Odd.
and she seems to have some reticence about the things I need to talk about. I do not understand. Other people do not have the same reticence. So, it seems best for me to move on.
I hope this was not a rant. I did not intend it to be.
Monday, February 21, 2011
The President's Day Snow
Okay! So it's really snowing. Really. Like 6 inches in the last five hours.
I lost my phone but now it is found except it is still not with me. And with all this snow I son't know when I will have it back. Hopefully tomorrow. But maybe not. Gods I feel lost without it. like I lost a limb or something. I don't know any phone numbers. I feel really disconnected.
I'm still trying to work out a meeting with my sponsor to do a fifth step. I feel like she is being evasive. Like she really doesn't want to do this. i wish she would just say that if it's so. That would be okay. But this crazy dodging is not okay. I am supposed to have therapy tomorrow but I don't know what will happen with all the snow. I guess we'll jsut have to see. It might be okay by 4 pm tomorrow when I would have to start on my way. Hope so.
That was off topic but on my mind.
My sponsor said that:
* I am happy to assist you with a 5th step. However, if some of these things are out of my realm I will again refer you back to your therapist. I can only help you with what I have expereince with in regards to the steps. *
Okay. What does she think I have to tell her? That I am an axe murderer on alternate Tuesdays?
This makes me wonder. And it makes me feel like I am so broken she cannot bear to listen to what has gone on in my life. Which may be true. I just wish she would say so.
I am confused and hurt and feeling like she doesn't really want to be my sponsor. Which would be fine but I need to know that.
I lost my phone but now it is found except it is still not with me. And with all this snow I son't know when I will have it back. Hopefully tomorrow. But maybe not. Gods I feel lost without it. like I lost a limb or something. I don't know any phone numbers. I feel really disconnected.
I'm still trying to work out a meeting with my sponsor to do a fifth step. I feel like she is being evasive. Like she really doesn't want to do this. i wish she would just say that if it's so. That would be okay. But this crazy dodging is not okay. I am supposed to have therapy tomorrow but I don't know what will happen with all the snow. I guess we'll jsut have to see. It might be okay by 4 pm tomorrow when I would have to start on my way. Hope so.
That was off topic but on my mind.
My sponsor said that:
* I am happy to assist you with a 5th step. However, if some of these things are out of my realm I will again refer you back to your therapist. I can only help you with what I have expereince with in regards to the steps. *
Okay. What does she think I have to tell her? That I am an axe murderer on alternate Tuesdays?
This makes me wonder. And it makes me feel like I am so broken she cannot bear to listen to what has gone on in my life. Which may be true. I just wish she would say so.
I am confused and hurt and feeling like she doesn't really want to be my sponsor. Which would be fine but I need to know that.
Sunday, February 20, 2011
On being an ass
I was an ass today. You're shocked, I know. But it's true.
I wrote a fourth step yesterday about some difficult stuff for me that has been working on me. I was abusive, just as my troublesome staff person is now only a few years ago. Children really do learn what they live and then that's all I could see. I was not abusive on purpose. I was not even always abusive in ways that our society would say was abusive. but it is. And this whole thing with this staff person and parents wanting her fired caused a bit of a firestorm of fear in ME. Cause that WAS me not that long ago.
Anyway, how was I an ass, you ask? Well, after the fourth step (a searching and fearless moral inventory) there is the fifth step (admitted to god, to ourselves, and to another human being the exact nature of our wrongs). So, I called my sponsor and made arrangemnets to tell her the exact nature of my wrongs. At 8:30 on a sunday morning! That's called *going to any lengths*.
Well, she came in and sat down and we talked for a few minutes and she began to play with her phone and ask this girl across the table from us how to download music to a new app she has. And I waited. Cause, bascially, it took all the humility I had just to ask her to listen. I didn't think I could ask her again, or ask to go somewhere else, or whatever. So I didn't. And things went badly from there. See, I assumed that she didn't want to hear what I had to say for whatever reason and then I got angry. I blew up at a different friend because I did not know how to ask my sponsor to do something different. This friend told me I needed to let her (my sponsor) know what was going on. I did eventually. But she never did listen to *the exact nature of my wrongs*. Which leaves me wondering why. Cause that leaves things undone. I'm not good with that. Now I need to find someone else to tell this stuff to and sheesh, it was hard enough the once. Now I will have to get up the courage to do this again. And figure out who.
I wrote a fourth step yesterday about some difficult stuff for me that has been working on me. I was abusive, just as my troublesome staff person is now only a few years ago. Children really do learn what they live and then that's all I could see. I was not abusive on purpose. I was not even always abusive in ways that our society would say was abusive. but it is. And this whole thing with this staff person and parents wanting her fired caused a bit of a firestorm of fear in ME. Cause that WAS me not that long ago.
Anyway, how was I an ass, you ask? Well, after the fourth step (a searching and fearless moral inventory) there is the fifth step (admitted to god, to ourselves, and to another human being the exact nature of our wrongs). So, I called my sponsor and made arrangemnets to tell her the exact nature of my wrongs. At 8:30 on a sunday morning! That's called *going to any lengths*.
Well, she came in and sat down and we talked for a few minutes and she began to play with her phone and ask this girl across the table from us how to download music to a new app she has. And I waited. Cause, bascially, it took all the humility I had just to ask her to listen. I didn't think I could ask her again, or ask to go somewhere else, or whatever. So I didn't. And things went badly from there. See, I assumed that she didn't want to hear what I had to say for whatever reason and then I got angry. I blew up at a different friend because I did not know how to ask my sponsor to do something different. This friend told me I needed to let her (my sponsor) know what was going on. I did eventually. But she never did listen to *the exact nature of my wrongs*. Which leaves me wondering why. Cause that leaves things undone. I'm not good with that. Now I need to find someone else to tell this stuff to and sheesh, it was hard enough the once. Now I will have to get up the courage to do this again. And figure out who.
Thursday, February 17, 2011
Potential
Try this again. I had a trying day. We had another incident at work with a staff person who I think is abusive. she does not see it that way. Not everyone does. I think I can speak to this because I used to be just like her. I was badly mothered and had no idea how to take care of children or be respectful of them. I did some damage in the past. I had a lot of people who helped me get to the other side of that and learn not only how to be kinder to children but to myself as well.
And I was willing at some point to learn how to be different.
I don't think she's there yet.
She is not going to be fired. she is going to be moved to a different school. This reminds me of what the Catholic church does/did. Firing her could be the kindest thing we do for her and for the children. Maybe it will help her to realize what she is doing. But that is unlikely to happen yet.
I am torn. she may be a good teacher someday. But whose kids does she get to practise on?
And I was willing at some point to learn how to be different.
I don't think she's there yet.
She is not going to be fired. she is going to be moved to a different school. This reminds me of what the Catholic church does/did. Firing her could be the kindest thing we do for her and for the children. Maybe it will help her to realize what she is doing. But that is unlikely to happen yet.
I am torn. she may be a good teacher someday. But whose kids does she get to practise on?
Thursday, February 10, 2011
I am recovering from bronchitis and a sinus infection. Blargh!
But I consciously chose the cough medicine without the codeine. Yep. Good choice for me.
And while I have been ill I have not been idle in my head. Oh no.
I'm working around accepting that *toxic* is what we call how my family system works. I'm working with that because when I hear that I hear *my family system is evil* and then I judge not just the system but myself and then I feel guilty because my family system is broken. (It's a lovely space inside my head. Especially when i am ill and sleep a lot.)
My family system IS toxic. It IS broken. a lot of really insane stuff has been passed to me and, naturally, I assumed that this is the way the rest of the humans operate too. I am finding that while the rest of the humans may have some sort of broken system of their own, the one I grew up in was quite nasty.
That's actually okay. Cause I'm trying NOT to pass on the nastiness and trying to see it and change it for myself.
I tell people that I was raised by wolves. I would probably function better on a social level if I had been. If my dogs are anything to go by.
Right now, I am trying not to harrass myself about this but to find the quiet space in myself and let the healing work. Cause I think I make it worse for myself by thinking I need to stir things up and really, the universe does not need my help. Just my willingness.
But I consciously chose the cough medicine without the codeine. Yep. Good choice for me.
And while I have been ill I have not been idle in my head. Oh no.
I'm working around accepting that *toxic* is what we call how my family system works. I'm working with that because when I hear that I hear *my family system is evil* and then I judge not just the system but myself and then I feel guilty because my family system is broken. (It's a lovely space inside my head. Especially when i am ill and sleep a lot.)
My family system IS toxic. It IS broken. a lot of really insane stuff has been passed to me and, naturally, I assumed that this is the way the rest of the humans operate too. I am finding that while the rest of the humans may have some sort of broken system of their own, the one I grew up in was quite nasty.
That's actually okay. Cause I'm trying NOT to pass on the nastiness and trying to see it and change it for myself.
I tell people that I was raised by wolves. I would probably function better on a social level if I had been. If my dogs are anything to go by.
Right now, I am trying not to harrass myself about this but to find the quiet space in myself and let the healing work. Cause I think I make it worse for myself by thinking I need to stir things up and really, the universe does not need my help. Just my willingness.
Sunday, February 6, 2011
I live in a toxic house. Okay. I have only recently seen how this is so. It still causes me much confusion, fear, and something else. Possibly guilt. Because I particiapted. Okay. But it was the only thing I've known. all the relationships I have had have followed this model because it was the only model I had. I'm still learning what other models look like.
I want to live peacefully. I want to live in sanity. I want to live where love isn't manipulative or come with strings.
I want that to be in this house where my name is on the deed. Is that my dream. Today it is.
I have to be very careful here because I will slip into my fears and stop dreaming of sanity and love.
My dream includes my two dogs. They are very dear to me. I have never been able to see a way out without losing them and I am not prepared to do that. But that is a fear. I can dream of a different life WITH my dogs.
this has no middle and no end. I guess I just had to get that out. I don't want to live in fear but that too takes time.
I want to live peacefully. I want to live in sanity. I want to live where love isn't manipulative or come with strings.
I want that to be in this house where my name is on the deed. Is that my dream. Today it is.
I have to be very careful here because I will slip into my fears and stop dreaming of sanity and love.
My dream includes my two dogs. They are very dear to me. I have never been able to see a way out without losing them and I am not prepared to do that. But that is a fear. I can dream of a different life WITH my dogs.
this has no middle and no end. I guess I just had to get that out. I don't want to live in fear but that too takes time.
Friday, February 4, 2011
honesty
*What the angel of death can teach us is how to be truly alive.* ~The Four Agreements
This was not what I was planning to write about, I don't think. But maybe it is in some way. I've had people I love die. One in my arms. Many from addiction. But I never let myself feel anything of it. I don't think I knew how.
The topic at the meeting tonight was *hoesty, open-mindedness, and willingness* (HOW) and so we had a conversation at dinner tonight that sprung from that. About how we don't share our deepest saddneses because we want everyone to think that sobriety is so wonderful and if they can sober and stay that way life will be great. But that is a lie. In an honest program. Life is life. It is messy. It hurts. But one of the gifts of sobriety is the ability to stay with the pain and feel it and move on through it to a different place. And if we share honestly about what it is like for us when things hurt then the newcomer will learn that they too can live through the pain sober.
I can't count how many times people have thanked me for sitting in a meeting sobbing speechlessly. Cause I'm there and I'm sober. Even if I'm in pain. And when i can talk about it I get thanked too. Cause we don't share the pain as we accrue years because we don't want to scare anyone.
I can testify to how scary it is to BE in pain many years sober thinking I'm doing it wrong or worse, there is something wrong with me because I am in pain. I felt so broken and I was afraid to talk about it because it shouldn['t be that way.
Well, it just is what it is and wherever I am is where I am and how I feel is how I feel and that's not broken.
Being in pain and NOT sharing...that's broken.
This was not what I was planning to write about, I don't think. But maybe it is in some way. I've had people I love die. One in my arms. Many from addiction. But I never let myself feel anything of it. I don't think I knew how.
The topic at the meeting tonight was *hoesty, open-mindedness, and willingness* (HOW) and so we had a conversation at dinner tonight that sprung from that. About how we don't share our deepest saddneses because we want everyone to think that sobriety is so wonderful and if they can sober and stay that way life will be great. But that is a lie. In an honest program. Life is life. It is messy. It hurts. But one of the gifts of sobriety is the ability to stay with the pain and feel it and move on through it to a different place. And if we share honestly about what it is like for us when things hurt then the newcomer will learn that they too can live through the pain sober.
I can't count how many times people have thanked me for sitting in a meeting sobbing speechlessly. Cause I'm there and I'm sober. Even if I'm in pain. And when i can talk about it I get thanked too. Cause we don't share the pain as we accrue years because we don't want to scare anyone.
I can testify to how scary it is to BE in pain many years sober thinking I'm doing it wrong or worse, there is something wrong with me because I am in pain. I felt so broken and I was afraid to talk about it because it shouldn['t be that way.
Well, it just is what it is and wherever I am is where I am and how I feel is how I feel and that's not broken.
Being in pain and NOT sharing...that's broken.
Monday, January 31, 2011
some poems by my students
Bobcats
Eat
Growl
Run
They like rabbits
by Emily age 5
Sunshine
She is cute.
I feel happy when she smiles at me.
And kisses me.
She licks me.
by Olivia age 5
Cheetos
I eat Cheetos.
They make me so happy.
They taste so good.
They are orange and cheesy.
by Ryan age 5
Hamster
Some can be yellow
And some can be grey
And white and black.
They're cuddly
And cute.
Hamsters
by Mia age 6
Kitten
Orange and white
Cute
It sleeps with me
Eats with me
Jumps on me
Purr
by Gianna age 6
Mermaid
Rainbow mermaid
Baby mermaid
Swimming in the baby pool.
Playing with the mermaid toys.
Making lots of baby noise.
By Killeen age 6
King Cobra Snakes
I like 'em because
they put out their
hoods.
I like 'em because they try to get ya.
They live in trees and under logs
I like when they slide
I'd like to be a King Cobra.
by Devin age 6
Snakes
They live on trees.
They crawl
They sleep
They live in trees
They creep
They eat.
by Nathan age 5
My Dog
I love Sergent.
I play with Sergent.
I feed him.
I sleep with him.
He misses me.
I miss him.
by Madison age 5
My Dog I Like To Play With
Cinnamon my dog
I like to play outside with my dog.
We run.
We catch.
We chase.
We play.
by Maura age 5
Eat
Growl
Run
They like rabbits
by Emily age 5
Sunshine
She is cute.
I feel happy when she smiles at me.
And kisses me.
She licks me.
by Olivia age 5
Cheetos
I eat Cheetos.
They make me so happy.
They taste so good.
They are orange and cheesy.
by Ryan age 5
Hamster
Some can be yellow
And some can be grey
And white and black.
They're cuddly
And cute.
Hamsters
by Mia age 6
Kitten
Orange and white
Cute
It sleeps with me
Eats with me
Jumps on me
Purr
by Gianna age 6
Mermaid
Rainbow mermaid
Baby mermaid
Swimming in the baby pool.
Playing with the mermaid toys.
Making lots of baby noise.
By Killeen age 6
King Cobra Snakes
I like 'em because
they put out their
hoods.
I like 'em because they try to get ya.
They live in trees and under logs
I like when they slide
I'd like to be a King Cobra.
by Devin age 6
Snakes
They live on trees.
They crawl
They sleep
They live in trees
They creep
They eat.
by Nathan age 5
My Dog
I love Sergent.
I play with Sergent.
I feed him.
I sleep with him.
He misses me.
I miss him.
by Madison age 5
My Dog I Like To Play With
Cinnamon my dog
I like to play outside with my dog.
We run.
We catch.
We chase.
We play.
by Maura age 5
Sunday, January 30, 2011
Kathleen
One of my dearest friends in all the world was diagnosed with leukemia this week. I am very sad. She is so dear to me and this is not her first bought with cancer. She has held my hand and held me up with her heart and her words over these very difficult past months. I want to help her too. And right now there is nothing I can do but pray, send her healing energy, send her my love. This is Pittsburgh and despite what the displaced out of towners have to say about it we got hospitals like there is no tomorrow and a fabulous cancer center. She was put right into the hospital and treatment was started right away.
That gives me some hope. But it does nothing for the heaviness of my heart. Despite a world renouned cancer center not everyone lives. I know this from heartbroken experience.
I jsut want one of the survivours to be Kathleen. It's selfish, I know. But I still want it.
Not that I wnat her to suffer. No. If she wants to go then she has my blessing. But I hope she wants to stay. Right now she is not seeing anyone. Not reading emails, not taking phone calls. Hopefully soon there will be other ways I can show my love.
That gives me some hope. But it does nothing for the heaviness of my heart. Despite a world renouned cancer center not everyone lives. I know this from heartbroken experience.
I jsut want one of the survivours to be Kathleen. It's selfish, I know. But I still want it.
Not that I wnat her to suffer. No. If she wants to go then she has my blessing. But I hope she wants to stay. Right now she is not seeing anyone. Not reading emails, not taking phone calls. Hopefully soon there will be other ways I can show my love.
Saturday, January 29, 2011
Brigid Poetry Slam
This path
I walk this path alone
A runner in a race
My ears deaf to voices
Supporters on the sidelines
Alone
If I reach
I touch you
Voices
Silence
Walking
Mired in the past
I walk
Swamps
Thorns
Rocks
Wild rivers
Steep mountains
Wearing boots
Carrying rope
I can swim
Solid ground is the present
Walking
Seeing
Being
Touching
Feeling
This path
Fellow travelers
Meet
Share
Shining vistas
Thick woods
Flowering meadows
Tangled swamps
Sacred wells of healing and comfort
This path
I walk alone
I walk this path alone
A runner in a race
My ears deaf to voices
Supporters on the sidelines
Alone
If I reach
I touch you
Voices
Silence
Walking
Mired in the past
I walk
Swamps
Thorns
Rocks
Wild rivers
Steep mountains
Wearing boots
Carrying rope
I can swim
Solid ground is the present
Walking
Seeing
Being
Touching
Feeling
This path
Fellow travelers
Meet
Share
Shining vistas
Thick woods
Flowering meadows
Tangled swamps
Sacred wells of healing and comfort
This path
I walk alone
Brigid Poetry Slam
Once
There was innocence and fearlessness
Then
There was abandonment and denial
And anger and pain
Always there was courage
I walked the edge of the blade
If I fall...death
Arms out!
Careful, careful
Falling
Falling
Falling
Alice-like my fall was not empty sapce
As I fell I bumped into pain
Old hurts shattered me like crystal
Teardrops splintered from me
Fractured, broken, open
I did not fear the landing
I thought I would fall forever
My tears spread below
A lake of feathers
Cushioning impact with compassion
Softening
What had once been hard and brittle
There was innocence and fearlessness
Then
There was abandonment and denial
And anger and pain
Always there was courage
I walked the edge of the blade
If I fall...death
Arms out!
Careful, careful
Falling
Falling
Falling
Alice-like my fall was not empty sapce
As I fell I bumped into pain
Old hurts shattered me like crystal
Teardrops splintered from me
Fractured, broken, open
I did not fear the landing
I thought I would fall forever
My tears spread below
A lake of feathers
Cushioning impact with compassion
Softening
What had once been hard and brittle
Friday, January 28, 2011
writing and talking
So, why do I do this? Well, it helps. It helps me to sort out the flotsam and jetsam in my brain. It helps me to recognise my feelings. Now that I have a few more rather than just anger and indifference. Like longhand writing, typing loosenes something.
Plus, I like the clicking. And I like playing with the colours of the words.
When things are really hard I can't talk or write about them well or skillfully but I do it anyway. Because it is like laying out the pieces of a jigsaw puzzle and turning them all over. I get the edges and then I can work on the body.
I had an icident at work yesterday. One of my teachers was crying at my desk when I came in. I asked her what was going on. She had gotten an awful email from her mentally ill mother who is on medication for her mental illness and drinking on top of that. The letter said that her mother did not want to talk to any of her children or get emails from them or talk to them on the phone. It went on for five pages of closely typed attack. and she threatened suicide. This girl knows that she can alert the authorities in her mother's town to that. That was not the issue. The issue was one of repeated abandonment paired with the occaisional presence of a caring parent. Which one will we get today? I know that story. From both my parents. I had the opportunity to share some of my experiences with her and to reassure her that she is not responsible for her mother's choices. they are not a reflection on her.
And another problem we have been having at school was peeled a bit when the teacher said that seh sees her mother in another teacher that she does not get along with. Yes, oh yes. People and events in the present that cause us (me) to overreact are not usually about the present. Sometimes they are triggers for painful experiences from the past that I could not react to at the time. It was not safe. Now it is safe but the situation does not warrent such a strong reaction. That, for me, is a huge clue that the present is pulling on threads from the past.
When we talked and shared what it was like for us it opens a door to trust and compassion.
Plus, I like the clicking. And I like playing with the colours of the words.
When things are really hard I can't talk or write about them well or skillfully but I do it anyway. Because it is like laying out the pieces of a jigsaw puzzle and turning them all over. I get the edges and then I can work on the body.
I had an icident at work yesterday. One of my teachers was crying at my desk when I came in. I asked her what was going on. She had gotten an awful email from her mentally ill mother who is on medication for her mental illness and drinking on top of that. The letter said that her mother did not want to talk to any of her children or get emails from them or talk to them on the phone. It went on for five pages of closely typed attack. and she threatened suicide. This girl knows that she can alert the authorities in her mother's town to that. That was not the issue. The issue was one of repeated abandonment paired with the occaisional presence of a caring parent. Which one will we get today? I know that story. From both my parents. I had the opportunity to share some of my experiences with her and to reassure her that she is not responsible for her mother's choices. they are not a reflection on her.
And another problem we have been having at school was peeled a bit when the teacher said that seh sees her mother in another teacher that she does not get along with. Yes, oh yes. People and events in the present that cause us (me) to overreact are not usually about the present. Sometimes they are triggers for painful experiences from the past that I could not react to at the time. It was not safe. Now it is safe but the situation does not warrent such a strong reaction. That, for me, is a huge clue that the present is pulling on threads from the past.
When we talked and shared what it was like for us it opens a door to trust and compassion.
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
casting spells
I own a pair of skis with boots and poles so small that only the three year olds and some tiny four year olds can fit in the boots. I also own adult skis, poles, and boots. I have not skied in a while.
But a year or so ago my dad gave me a steamer trunk of my grandparents and inside were my skis from long ago. I took them out, looked at them and put them in a corner of a little used room. And there they stayed. Then, earlier this week one of my students began talking excitedly of an upcoming ski trip with her mother. She asked me if I had ever been to Seven Springs. So I told her that I had, indeed, and to several other ski lodges in the area and we went to Canada for two weeks every winter. Everyone says how lucky I was. Yes, in some ways I was. I had skis and all the appropriate clothing to go skiing in Canada. -30 F and they don't factor in the wind chill. One day the wind was blowing so hard the chairs were blowing sideways. But they did not cancel ski school. No. We duck walked up the hill! But I did have fun. I liked ski school. What caused me problems was skiing with my parents. Mum had her issues but was easier to ski with. But too into what I was doing wrong. Dad was a horror. Screaming, leaving me in the snow if I fell, leaving me to be scooped up by a complete stranger and put on the chair lift. Leaving me to be pulled out of a snowbank by someone else's dad. He had rules. No going in before lunch no matter what, kids carry their own skis and boots, No crying, and his children were destined for the winter olympics. (in HIS mind anyway). How do I explain the bad mojo that was on those baby skis and on the big ones? Once when my mother commented that I looked like a professional skier in a race in Canada my dad proceeded to list all the things I had done wrong. I was 10.
Skiing with my dad was not a good experience. but he always thought it was a great way to bond with us. We weren't bonding, we were watching him closely to see if he was going to explode or hit us or storm off and leave us. Yeah, yeah, we were paying attention. (Cause not paying attention got a swift smack.) But bonding, not really.
But I told the kids I had little skis and they wanted to see them. So I brought them in to school. I teach in a really cool school. I discovered that the boots were too small for all but the littlest kids. (I had to wear four pair of socks to make them fit when I first got them.) I also discovered that it is really hard to gets kids feet into ski boots. But we got them on three brave little souls. We went outside to the playground and skied on a gentle little slope. They had fun. Even the kids who were too big for the skis had fun helping the little ones. When they got their skis crossed I picked them up so they could straighten out their skis. (I learned that kick up one ski trick quite young cause my dad had a no helping rule). When they fell I picked them up. If they were scared I held them up. When they were done I took off the skis. When they were cold and had snow in their jackets we went inside. I told them how brave they were. We stopped when it was not fun anymore.
I cast a new spell on a pair of old blue skis. A spell of fun and respect and love.
With the help of some awesome little kids.
But a year or so ago my dad gave me a steamer trunk of my grandparents and inside were my skis from long ago. I took them out, looked at them and put them in a corner of a little used room. And there they stayed. Then, earlier this week one of my students began talking excitedly of an upcoming ski trip with her mother. She asked me if I had ever been to Seven Springs. So I told her that I had, indeed, and to several other ski lodges in the area and we went to Canada for two weeks every winter. Everyone says how lucky I was. Yes, in some ways I was. I had skis and all the appropriate clothing to go skiing in Canada. -30 F and they don't factor in the wind chill. One day the wind was blowing so hard the chairs were blowing sideways. But they did not cancel ski school. No. We duck walked up the hill! But I did have fun. I liked ski school. What caused me problems was skiing with my parents. Mum had her issues but was easier to ski with. But too into what I was doing wrong. Dad was a horror. Screaming, leaving me in the snow if I fell, leaving me to be scooped up by a complete stranger and put on the chair lift. Leaving me to be pulled out of a snowbank by someone else's dad. He had rules. No going in before lunch no matter what, kids carry their own skis and boots, No crying, and his children were destined for the winter olympics. (in HIS mind anyway). How do I explain the bad mojo that was on those baby skis and on the big ones? Once when my mother commented that I looked like a professional skier in a race in Canada my dad proceeded to list all the things I had done wrong. I was 10.
Skiing with my dad was not a good experience. but he always thought it was a great way to bond with us. We weren't bonding, we were watching him closely to see if he was going to explode or hit us or storm off and leave us. Yeah, yeah, we were paying attention. (Cause not paying attention got a swift smack.) But bonding, not really.
But I told the kids I had little skis and they wanted to see them. So I brought them in to school. I teach in a really cool school. I discovered that the boots were too small for all but the littlest kids. (I had to wear four pair of socks to make them fit when I first got them.) I also discovered that it is really hard to gets kids feet into ski boots. But we got them on three brave little souls. We went outside to the playground and skied on a gentle little slope. They had fun. Even the kids who were too big for the skis had fun helping the little ones. When they got their skis crossed I picked them up so they could straighten out their skis. (I learned that kick up one ski trick quite young cause my dad had a no helping rule). When they fell I picked them up. If they were scared I held them up. When they were done I took off the skis. When they were cold and had snow in their jackets we went inside. I told them how brave they were. We stopped when it was not fun anymore.
I cast a new spell on a pair of old blue skis. A spell of fun and respect and love.
With the help of some awesome little kids.
Monday, January 24, 2011
And I had a sort of interesting insight this morning. I was reading my
morning readings and one of them triggered me to reflect on what I felt
like a month ago, nine months ago, in the middle of those months. And it
struck me just how bad it was. Not that I didn't know that when I was
there, but from the place I am now I am rather surprised at how well I
managed. I really was suicidal, I really was depressed, I really wanted
to make it all go away. I can't say I really wanted to drink but that
was one way that I knew I could get a kind of relief. (temporary and
with it's own kind of hell) But I was seriously looking for chemical
relief. I am so glad the liver damage was already in my file. I think
it would have been a longer process if it had been easier.
I was vulnerable and felt unsafe, I felt like I was lost and broken in a
foreign land. I felt threatened and unsteady. And I was not only not
sure there was any support for me anywhere, I was sure that whatever
entity that could provide support would refuse. I looked at many things
about myself that I have been looking away from all my life. To the
point that when I could have looked at them I was so good at not seeing
them I still couldn't look at them. Until last summer and fall. I really
think that if I had not allowed myself to just walk through that and see
it and feel the pain I had repressed my whole life it would have done far
more damage than the actual event or the seeing of them.
Not that there are no more of those experiences. There may be. I had
one while telling Lisa about the grandmother. But since there was no
wall up I saw the look on her face and processed , on the spot. Oh, this
is one of those things that we pretend is normal in my family but is
really traumatic and horrible. Oh. So, nothing exploded and I was able
to see how sad and traumatic that was for my grandmother and some of the
consequences it had for her family and for me through my mother. Without
having to work through all the processes of repression that hampered me
before. That was done.
I am really glad that I allowed myself to walk through a really difficult
place even though I thought I might be there a really, really long time.
(Like forever)
Because whatever work may come, I have not only the experience of having
done that but I learned some stuff about myself, and my family that let
the process move more smoothly and not take nine months.
And I learned about how to comfort myself. That was a concept that I had
not even understood to be possible. Bob explained it to me like I was a
small, mentally retarded child. And in that way, I was. I can see him,
very slowly explaining what *sensory* meant.
I don't know if I expressed that well, but I was struck with a huge sense
of gratitude for the experience and the things I learned and that it is
not like that now. And really amazed that I DID that! Like one of the
kids.
And I also think that I picked up some loose threads of my sobriety along
the way. I think I suspected they were there but they were not visible.
morning readings and one of them triggered me to reflect on what I felt
like a month ago, nine months ago, in the middle of those months. And it
struck me just how bad it was. Not that I didn't know that when I was
there, but from the place I am now I am rather surprised at how well I
managed. I really was suicidal, I really was depressed, I really wanted
to make it all go away. I can't say I really wanted to drink but that
was one way that I knew I could get a kind of relief. (temporary and
with it's own kind of hell) But I was seriously looking for chemical
relief. I am so glad the liver damage was already in my file. I think
it would have been a longer process if it had been easier.
I was vulnerable and felt unsafe, I felt like I was lost and broken in a
foreign land. I felt threatened and unsteady. And I was not only not
sure there was any support for me anywhere, I was sure that whatever
entity that could provide support would refuse. I looked at many things
about myself that I have been looking away from all my life. To the
point that when I could have looked at them I was so good at not seeing
them I still couldn't look at them. Until last summer and fall. I really
think that if I had not allowed myself to just walk through that and see
it and feel the pain I had repressed my whole life it would have done far
more damage than the actual event or the seeing of them.
Not that there are no more of those experiences. There may be. I had
one while telling Lisa about the grandmother. But since there was no
wall up I saw the look on her face and processed , on the spot. Oh, this
is one of those things that we pretend is normal in my family but is
really traumatic and horrible. Oh. So, nothing exploded and I was able
to see how sad and traumatic that was for my grandmother and some of the
consequences it had for her family and for me through my mother. Without
having to work through all the processes of repression that hampered me
before. That was done.
I am really glad that I allowed myself to walk through a really difficult
place even though I thought I might be there a really, really long time.
(Like forever)
Because whatever work may come, I have not only the experience of having
done that but I learned some stuff about myself, and my family that let
the process move more smoothly and not take nine months.
And I learned about how to comfort myself. That was a concept that I had
not even understood to be possible. Bob explained it to me like I was a
small, mentally retarded child. And in that way, I was. I can see him,
very slowly explaining what *sensory* meant.
I don't know if I expressed that well, but I was struck with a huge sense
of gratitude for the experience and the things I learned and that it is
not like that now. And really amazed that I DID that! Like one of the
kids.
And I also think that I picked up some loose threads of my sobriety along
the way. I think I suspected they were there but they were not visible.
triggered trauma
I had an experience at a meeting yesterday where something that was read triggered childhood abuse trauma issues. and then it was made more intense by soemthing that was siand at breakfast afterward. It took me the rest of yesterday and today to figure out what had happened there.
It was something about someone's Higher Power using pain to *get their attention*. Yeah, see I'm working through people and powers that I trust NOT using pain to get mya ttetion because that is abusive.
Pain as a natural event because something hurts or because my actions cause me pain as a consequence of some unskillful choice I have made is different than the smack upside the head that I pictured.
I thought I needed to do an inventory to figure out what I had done wrong. No. I needed to inventory my reaction and see what the root of it was. I can have a painful reaction to something that has little basis in the present situation but deep roots in painful shildhood trauma. I helps that I can do this in days and not weeks or months now. Nice.
It was something about someone's Higher Power using pain to *get their attention*. Yeah, see I'm working through people and powers that I trust NOT using pain to get mya ttetion because that is abusive.
Pain as a natural event because something hurts or because my actions cause me pain as a consequence of some unskillful choice I have made is different than the smack upside the head that I pictured.
I thought I needed to do an inventory to figure out what I had done wrong. No. I needed to inventory my reaction and see what the root of it was. I can have a painful reaction to something that has little basis in the present situation but deep roots in painful shildhood trauma. I helps that I can do this in days and not weeks or months now. Nice.
Saturday, January 22, 2011
Look. Don't look away
Did I mention that after the experience with my former sponsor I began *taking everyone's inventory* in an even worse fashion that I had before.
When I did this and shared it with the priestess I asked for initiation she decided that it called for some work to be done.
Who'd a thought that a few simple questions would have caused such shattering?
Well, first I just said, *no. I can't see that at all. No.* But I tried. And the shattering was in the trying. My safety, my defenses fell apart. Not a comfortable place to be...no safe place.
It set in motion events that I never expected.
It caused me to either look at events in my life that I had repressed for decades. And to look at the skills by which I kept that going.
Childhood abuse, molestation, and the lies that were told to me to keep the truth away. And lies I told myself to keep the truth away.
If I had not been there and done that I would not have thought I could even go there.
I'm still amazed that I walked through that sober, and arrived on the other side of some difficult shit possibly saner that before. Definitely more aware than ever before.
I am a more compassionate person than I was last May. Last May I was far more likely to judge others ad find them wanting than to be able to allow that there may be things in other people's lives that I have no idea about.
See, I had rules I had to live by and I had to make you live by them too. Otherwise my world would shatter.
It is better shattered. I'd rather not do that anytime soon but if it needs doing I would jsut as soon walk through it than not.
You see, it was killing me to keep all that repressed. My body never forgot and so it kept trying to remind me, get me to pay attention. But I didn't know how.
I don't know if that made a lot of sense but as I have found, it will. Eventually, I come to a place where I can express myself and be understood.
See, that was one of the most difficult things about the past nine months. I kept trying to explain to people what was wrong (cause when I could not stop crying people who cared asked me what was wrong) and for months I was just not able to explain in a way that was understood. And then, people were put into my life who understood what I was saying without a lot of explanation.
When I did this and shared it with the priestess I asked for initiation she decided that it called for some work to be done.
Who'd a thought that a few simple questions would have caused such shattering?
Well, first I just said, *no. I can't see that at all. No.* But I tried. And the shattering was in the trying. My safety, my defenses fell apart. Not a comfortable place to be...no safe place.
It set in motion events that I never expected.
It caused me to either look at events in my life that I had repressed for decades. And to look at the skills by which I kept that going.
Childhood abuse, molestation, and the lies that were told to me to keep the truth away. And lies I told myself to keep the truth away.
If I had not been there and done that I would not have thought I could even go there.
I'm still amazed that I walked through that sober, and arrived on the other side of some difficult shit possibly saner that before. Definitely more aware than ever before.
I am a more compassionate person than I was last May. Last May I was far more likely to judge others ad find them wanting than to be able to allow that there may be things in other people's lives that I have no idea about.
See, I had rules I had to live by and I had to make you live by them too. Otherwise my world would shatter.
It is better shattered. I'd rather not do that anytime soon but if it needs doing I would jsut as soon walk through it than not.
You see, it was killing me to keep all that repressed. My body never forgot and so it kept trying to remind me, get me to pay attention. But I didn't know how.
I don't know if that made a lot of sense but as I have found, it will. Eventually, I come to a place where I can express myself and be understood.
See, that was one of the most difficult things about the past nine months. I kept trying to explain to people what was wrong (cause when I could not stop crying people who cared asked me what was wrong) and for months I was just not able to explain in a way that was understood. And then, people were put into my life who understood what I was saying without a lot of explanation.
Saturday, January 15, 2011
Why the lapse of over a year in postings?
Well, last winter I had the experience of my sponsor being on pain killers, several, for many months. I had the experience of being lied to by someone I trusted and then being betrayed as the relationship exploded. This in itself was traumatic. And caused a lot of pain and confusion. And anger. Real, righteous, and transfered.
I was called on my anger and tried to stop behaving in the way that I was behaving. Okay. That had some unexpected results. Because I was using anger as a shield against pretty much everything. But I did not recognise it as anger. Because in my life experience anger only looked like throwing things and punching walls and screaming with popping veins. Anger did not look like taking someone else's inventory, being judgemental, or being depressed to the point of suicidal thoughts. So when I stopped acting out on my anger I turned it on myself. My behaviour spiraled down to being exactly as it was before I gort sober except that I was still sober. That was a hellish experience. Living with all the pain that caused me to drink in the first place and not actually drinking. And not having names for any of the things that were painful. All I knew was anger or indifference. And I could not find a way to be indifferent about my own pain.
And the causes were buried so deep that it took months of pain to get them bubbled to the surface. I went back into therapy which helped some but really just pulled a lot of stuff up and then left me struggling for a week to live with what had been brought to the surface. It turns out that I should have been calling the crisi line but I had no reference for what a crisis looked like. It had never been okay before to even experience these feelings. That they were of crisis proportions was not something I could grasp. All I knew was that I was in a lot of pain. I asked for help, did what I knew to do, cried, prayed, complained. Things moved slowly. I had to be told that it wasn't as bad as it had been. Which was true. I felt like the Goddess had allowed me to be put in that place and was somehow twistedly amused by the situation. It took a lot of ranting to her to work through that.
Huh. I was even transfereing my abuse issues to the Divine. I truly felt cast adrift by all.
During this time I had more sponsors than I have had during the whole of 20 years sober. In a 3-4 month span. Which only added to the feeling of being abandoned. Eventually, I found a sponsor whom I still have 3-4 months now. Not that that was a rosy relationship at first. I was clingy. Cause I felt abandoned while dealing with actual abandonment issues that I'd never looked at or seen before. And my new sponsor would not allow clingyness. Which was a good thing truth be told. The old sponsor relationship had been far too codependent and the relationship with the rest of her sponsees debilitating.
Becasue when I told her I was getting another sponsor and that I was concerned about her use of painkillers none of her other sponsees would talk to me and they had been the only people I'd been talking to for some years. Not a good place to be. I thought I had two choices. Whcih turn out to be one really. Drink or die.
I did neither. I put one foot in front of the other every day and walked my path consciously aware of my pain. And slowly, slowly things began to change. I have had two really good positive weeks now. The longest stretch since May. Might not last but I'll have these good days to remember if/when it gets painful again.
Oh, and I'm doing this without medication since my liver will not support the use of such drugs day after day. My therapist was a little dismayed by that. But he's dealing with it.
I have the support of so many people. People who call each other and to tell them I might need to talk, who talk to me when I call, who listen to me cry and don't need to hear what I'm saying through my tears. They can just be there on the other end of the phone, in the next chair, with a hug or an encouraging word. Or the frustration of someone who is afraid for me because they can see my pain.
And even the Goddess who may not grant me my wishes but does help me find the strength to do the things I do not think I can do.
I was called on my anger and tried to stop behaving in the way that I was behaving. Okay. That had some unexpected results. Because I was using anger as a shield against pretty much everything. But I did not recognise it as anger. Because in my life experience anger only looked like throwing things and punching walls and screaming with popping veins. Anger did not look like taking someone else's inventory, being judgemental, or being depressed to the point of suicidal thoughts. So when I stopped acting out on my anger I turned it on myself. My behaviour spiraled down to being exactly as it was before I gort sober except that I was still sober. That was a hellish experience. Living with all the pain that caused me to drink in the first place and not actually drinking. And not having names for any of the things that were painful. All I knew was anger or indifference. And I could not find a way to be indifferent about my own pain.
And the causes were buried so deep that it took months of pain to get them bubbled to the surface. I went back into therapy which helped some but really just pulled a lot of stuff up and then left me struggling for a week to live with what had been brought to the surface. It turns out that I should have been calling the crisi line but I had no reference for what a crisis looked like. It had never been okay before to even experience these feelings. That they were of crisis proportions was not something I could grasp. All I knew was that I was in a lot of pain. I asked for help, did what I knew to do, cried, prayed, complained. Things moved slowly. I had to be told that it wasn't as bad as it had been. Which was true. I felt like the Goddess had allowed me to be put in that place and was somehow twistedly amused by the situation. It took a lot of ranting to her to work through that.
Huh. I was even transfereing my abuse issues to the Divine. I truly felt cast adrift by all.
During this time I had more sponsors than I have had during the whole of 20 years sober. In a 3-4 month span. Which only added to the feeling of being abandoned. Eventually, I found a sponsor whom I still have 3-4 months now. Not that that was a rosy relationship at first. I was clingy. Cause I felt abandoned while dealing with actual abandonment issues that I'd never looked at or seen before. And my new sponsor would not allow clingyness. Which was a good thing truth be told. The old sponsor relationship had been far too codependent and the relationship with the rest of her sponsees debilitating.
Becasue when I told her I was getting another sponsor and that I was concerned about her use of painkillers none of her other sponsees would talk to me and they had been the only people I'd been talking to for some years. Not a good place to be. I thought I had two choices. Whcih turn out to be one really. Drink or die.
I did neither. I put one foot in front of the other every day and walked my path consciously aware of my pain. And slowly, slowly things began to change. I have had two really good positive weeks now. The longest stretch since May. Might not last but I'll have these good days to remember if/when it gets painful again.
Oh, and I'm doing this without medication since my liver will not support the use of such drugs day after day. My therapist was a little dismayed by that. But he's dealing with it.
I have the support of so many people. People who call each other and to tell them I might need to talk, who talk to me when I call, who listen to me cry and don't need to hear what I'm saying through my tears. They can just be there on the other end of the phone, in the next chair, with a hug or an encouraging word. Or the frustration of someone who is afraid for me because they can see my pain.
And even the Goddess who may not grant me my wishes but does help me find the strength to do the things I do not think I can do.
reality
I have spent my life trying to escape reality in one from or another. I have recently discovered that it is actually more porductive to meet reality, however painful, deal with it and move on.
That being said, the painful issues that I have faced in the last eight months have not moved quickly from my perspective. But still, they have moved and this is better than running from them or fighting them. NOT move comfortable. NOT easier. But the better choice.
Addiction is fatal. Really. It's not just messy or unmanageable. It doesn't just get us into trouble. It is fatal. I've already been to too many funerals. My beloved dead are already too numerous. I'm just not that old. I do not want to add to their ranks. I do not want this disease to take more of the people I love because they think they can't face the pain. Unfortunately, the choice is not mine.
I only get to work with the people who ask. Not the people who need.
That being said, the painful issues that I have faced in the last eight months have not moved quickly from my perspective. But still, they have moved and this is better than running from them or fighting them. NOT move comfortable. NOT easier. But the better choice.
Addiction is fatal. Really. It's not just messy or unmanageable. It doesn't just get us into trouble. It is fatal. I've already been to too many funerals. My beloved dead are already too numerous. I'm just not that old. I do not want to add to their ranks. I do not want this disease to take more of the people I love because they think they can't face the pain. Unfortunately, the choice is not mine.
I only get to work with the people who ask. Not the people who need.
Thursday, January 13, 2011
new
Oops. I missed yesterday.
Try again.
I have a new sponsee. She is just back from a slip. Seems like a LOT of people went out over the Holidays. People with a little time to people with decades of sobriety. Very disturbing. And sad. I have one friend who jsut went out this week. She had just gotten out of jail on a DUI charge. She nearly died not too long ago from her last relapse. This leaves me with a sense of forboding. And deep grief.
Please Goddess look after her. And please gift me a Gods' tongue when talking to my sponsees that I may say what they need to hear. It isn't my *skill* that will keep anyone sober. It's just a gift. Sobriety, that is. There are tools that help and practises that make it more likely but it is still a gift. sorta like ya can't win the lottery if ya don't buy a ticket.
I guess that makes it sound like chance. Why do some people make it and some not? I wish I knew.
Try again.
I have a new sponsee. She is just back from a slip. Seems like a LOT of people went out over the Holidays. People with a little time to people with decades of sobriety. Very disturbing. And sad. I have one friend who jsut went out this week. She had just gotten out of jail on a DUI charge. She nearly died not too long ago from her last relapse. This leaves me with a sense of forboding. And deep grief.
Please Goddess look after her. And please gift me a Gods' tongue when talking to my sponsees that I may say what they need to hear. It isn't my *skill* that will keep anyone sober. It's just a gift. Sobriety, that is. There are tools that help and practises that make it more likely but it is still a gift. sorta like ya can't win the lottery if ya don't buy a ticket.
I guess that makes it sound like chance. Why do some people make it and some not? I wish I knew.
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
let's try this again
I'm back again. After an absence of more than a year. During that time my life exploded. I intend to write more on that in the days to come...even if I write only one sentence a day. It was horrible and wonderful. I have the best of intentions and, let's see, I've already been to hell. Bought the t-shirt. So we'll see where this road leads.
Friday, November 5, 2010
Sunday, April 11, 2010
dog lost, posts found
About a month ago my Akita mix Seuss died. The one that was abducted by aliens in a past post. That was his story anyway. He had lost feeling in his back legs and could not walk. He was over 100 pounds. He was 13 and a truly sweet boy. He is greatly missed.
But I found my lost posts by following a link to my blog on somwone else's blog. Huh.
But that blog is to a defunct email address and so I cannot *do* anything with them. ah well.
Be well now my sweet King Seuss. Now you can run and play.
But I found my lost posts by following a link to my blog on somwone else's blog. Huh.
But that blog is to a defunct email address and so I cannot *do* anything with them. ah well.
Be well now my sweet King Seuss. Now you can run and play.
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