11/30/2018
2:24 am
I am thinking on reprocessing as I become semi-conscious through the natural cycles of sleep. It wakes me completely as I recognize that these thoughts are new, and they are forward moving in the direction I wish to head. I know that I will not go back to sleep easily now because my mind will not easily give up the processing of them and I make a quick and decisive decision to get them out now, as they are coming, so that I may return to sleep -the very thing I need- quicker… and as I type this I remember that even going to sleep I recognized that I was not likely to sleep well since I was feeling certain emotions before I went to sleep. Not terribly overwhelming, but emotions that needed to be felt and a very natural part of the “grieving process.” Emotions that I am familiar enough with to know that they would affect my sleep.
In addition to those loss and grieving emotions (before I went to sleep) I was thinking on how he just let me go. How, somehow, in my mind I felt a switch from him that I did not see coming, at least not like that and not just then. I knew therapy would have to end with him and I had scheduled appointments for the next four weeks in a row when I realized that I needed to get this therapy stuff done so I could move on and not grow so attached to him. An ironic paradox. It really did seem to me that the moment I started to utilize him as just my therapist is the moment he turned on me and this was so confusing to me. And my research confirmed that this was confusing. I now long to talk with him human to human, preferably friend to friend, but even if he can’t be friends with me for a moment to resolve this, I hope and so intensely desire that he can at least talk real person to real person with me, without the walls, without the masks, and outside of his confining office where his Jedi mind tricks would not have power over me and he would be less tempted to use them.
The new thoughts that are attached to the old thoughts that I know... I need guidance in reprocessing if I am going to do it correctly… or at least more productively and heading down the happier healthier path that (therapist) had started me on. The paths in my thinking that I had become excited about ...and grown quite fond of.
These are the new thoughts that are coming. Something feels different about this time. “It’s not an uncommon theme with me,” I say, “ I fall in love with just about everyone, but this is a little different, you are something special.”
…-it’s not a sexual thing...maybe I needed to add that?
I have so many things that I need to reprocess that I do not want this to be another one. But it is confusing to me, as I see repeats in my patterns that I believed he would have seen, been aware of, and sensitive to as my therapist and as “the best.” I know that he is going through some personal stuff, I sensed that, and I am aware that this could have thrown him off his game… but why would that happen ...especially to me? With me? Why the timing? It was far too familiar of a pattern so I came to questioning myself and at the same time wondering if I could believe anything he had said and that I had felt. Wondering if my perceptions were so completely off. Questioning. And feeling like a fraud in both my sanity and insanity again. A very challenging thinking trap to escape. His actions seemed to confirm everything I hated about myself; the mysteries of myself that everyone else hated about me too but would not tell me (so I could fix them.) I had been here before, but this time is different. I am gaining ground. Making progress and I will not let my mistakes or someone else’s mistakes, real, projected, reflected or perceived derail me this time. I AM more solid and I WILL make it through and I AM finding my power to do that.
So, and this is what woke me up, the new thought in this process, the thought that I knew could keep me on my path to full healing and my full potential:
“I can admit that I am wrong.”
I want to be able to compartmentalize and store my thoughts, hurts and experiences more effectively and efficiently so that I can live the best and most productive version of myself. There is more to my story than he knows (so much more), whether I was hiding it from him -very well- or whether he failed to see it doesn’t matter so much as I know that he does have the knowledge and training that fits my scenario and he knows how to direct me -he really is very good. I know deep down inside that he can still be helpful for me with this if he is willing to.
My pride says "No! since I told him I would not see him again as my therapist." My ego says no because “you don’t even know what the truth is and what is the lie with him.” But my heart says "it will hurt no matter how you see him again but forward movement is what you need and you are going to continue to love him either way, besides it might be good for him as well." And my logical brain says, "umm yeah, admitting that you are wrong and utilizing his skills to help you in the right direction of reprocessing this is a good idea even if it does mean you have to admit you were wrong about coming to see him as your therapist again and even if it is painful for either of you. It is paradoxically a step in the direction of becoming that person you have been working so hard on becoming for so long."
It is now 3:21 am and I feel like I have gotten it all out -I hope I have as I’d like to go back to sleep. “How are you sleeping?” He would ask regularly … because he knows that I am going to be extra sensitive to not getting enough sleep.
Friday, November 30, 2018
Thursday, November 29, 2018
I broke my therapist
It's been awhile. I had been working so diligently to create my illusion that I almost had myself convinced.
And this morning, at 5 am, I believe in my realization that I had my neuropsychologist convinced.
It's such a funny irony, paradox, hypocrisy whatever and a million other things that I have struggled so much with my sanity, to keep it in check, and yet somehow I feel neither here nor there in the land of crazy and the sane. I can't accept that I am *crazy and I can't accept that I am sane -as if I am perfectly at home as a fraud in both spaces. (*have any type of medical diagnosable mental illness)
I somehow have the ability to look at myself scientifically and rationally even when chemicals are raging through my system and there are mystical signs and omens at work on me. I don't know that I always recognize it as well as I think I do, but I do a pretty damn good job.
My therapist, who I had been seeing for several months, has been helping me to uncover my buried story, bring it to the surface, and to learn to accept and love my perfectly imperfect self.
I had my story so far buried I had forgotten why I had buried it; how I had gotten to that point. I figured I was just there to deal with PTSD from a car accident, that involved a concussion, thus it also meant dealing with the head injury of my youth, which seemed to be contributing to the problems I was having while offering reliving style memories and feelings from my teen years that I was not realizing were in fact head injury related and that I had been left to handle alone.
There are so many ironies, repeats and parallels in this
That is probably why the spirit animals came into play.
I do in fact need some other worldly comforting.
But back on track. I was also aware of recent painful experiences with friends and an employer. I do certainly scare people, but my therapist didn't believe I was scary; because I had him fooled.
Yesterday I remembered my blog.
I revisited you (blog) it's been years and I have to say it is a bit sad that it lacked sharing of some of the happier sides of my beautiful crazy life.
Ironically I feel it easier to share the depression stuff, I think it is safer to share and I often look back with embarrassment at the other. ...and I allow my self to digress again ... but back on track
You see the problem is that I fell in love with my therapist. It is not an uncommon theme with me, I fall in love with most people and it's not a sexual thing, it's just love. But because it is coming from me or is channeled through me it is a deep and intense love that I struggle to handle myself. Forget expecting other people to handle it.
What if you saw God, or Jesus, how would that effect you?
This is a deep confession and not where I expected to go with this, but I am going to let it continue, because my box is broken, my therapist is broken and I am tired of hiding, it never felt quite right when my parents told me it was something I should not share freely.
I wasn't crazy then. I didn't even have a damaged brain. I was a young child and it was a dream, but as sure as I was that I was alive and human, that my parents were my parents and that anything tangible really existed I knew that I had seen Jesus. I knew it because I had felt his love. A love so intense and so powerful that it changed me, it shined out of my little blue eyes as I proclaimed to my mom "I saw Jesus." It shined out even without me talking about it.
As an adult, as a teen, I questioned it, questioned if it was just a dream. I often tried to tell myself that it was just a dream, but that was a destructive lie.
When I was around 17, in a religious studies class, in order to illustrate some point, my teacher carelessly asked for a raise of hands from anyone who had ever seen Jesus; In that moment I became the damned as I tried to convince myself that it had merely been a dream despite the fact that I knew better. It likely scarred me more deeply than I know. I had just denied seeing God.
This was not what I came on to write about, but sometimes it is best to stopping fighting with ourselves and our egos and just go with the flow.
And just like that my mind is empty again. Ready to go back to sleep.
And this morning, at 5 am, I believe in my realization that I had my neuropsychologist convinced.
It's such a funny irony, paradox, hypocrisy whatever and a million other things that I have struggled so much with my sanity, to keep it in check, and yet somehow I feel neither here nor there in the land of crazy and the sane. I can't accept that I am *crazy and I can't accept that I am sane -as if I am perfectly at home as a fraud in both spaces. (*have any type of medical diagnosable mental illness)
I somehow have the ability to look at myself scientifically and rationally even when chemicals are raging through my system and there are mystical signs and omens at work on me. I don't know that I always recognize it as well as I think I do, but I do a pretty damn good job.
My therapist, who I had been seeing for several months, has been helping me to uncover my buried story, bring it to the surface, and to learn to accept and love my perfectly imperfect self.
I had my story so far buried I had forgotten why I had buried it; how I had gotten to that point. I figured I was just there to deal with PTSD from a car accident, that involved a concussion, thus it also meant dealing with the head injury of my youth, which seemed to be contributing to the problems I was having while offering reliving style memories and feelings from my teen years that I was not realizing were in fact head injury related and that I had been left to handle alone.
There are so many ironies, repeats and parallels in this
That is probably why the spirit animals came into play.
I do in fact need some other worldly comforting.
But back on track. I was also aware of recent painful experiences with friends and an employer. I do certainly scare people, but my therapist didn't believe I was scary; because I had him fooled.
Yesterday I remembered my blog.
I revisited you (blog) it's been years and I have to say it is a bit sad that it lacked sharing of some of the happier sides of my beautiful crazy life.
Ironically I feel it easier to share the depression stuff, I think it is safer to share and I often look back with embarrassment at the other. ...and I allow my self to digress again ... but back on track
You see the problem is that I fell in love with my therapist. It is not an uncommon theme with me, I fall in love with most people and it's not a sexual thing, it's just love. But because it is coming from me or is channeled through me it is a deep and intense love that I struggle to handle myself. Forget expecting other people to handle it.
What if you saw God, or Jesus, how would that effect you?
This is a deep confession and not where I expected to go with this, but I am going to let it continue, because my box is broken, my therapist is broken and I am tired of hiding, it never felt quite right when my parents told me it was something I should not share freely.
I wasn't crazy then. I didn't even have a damaged brain. I was a young child and it was a dream, but as sure as I was that I was alive and human, that my parents were my parents and that anything tangible really existed I knew that I had seen Jesus. I knew it because I had felt his love. A love so intense and so powerful that it changed me, it shined out of my little blue eyes as I proclaimed to my mom "I saw Jesus." It shined out even without me talking about it.
As an adult, as a teen, I questioned it, questioned if it was just a dream. I often tried to tell myself that it was just a dream, but that was a destructive lie.
When I was around 17, in a religious studies class, in order to illustrate some point, my teacher carelessly asked for a raise of hands from anyone who had ever seen Jesus; In that moment I became the damned as I tried to convince myself that it had merely been a dream despite the fact that I knew better. It likely scarred me more deeply than I know. I had just denied seeing God.
This was not what I came on to write about, but sometimes it is best to stopping fighting with ourselves and our egos and just go with the flow.
And just like that my mind is empty again. Ready to go back to sleep.
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