A brief synopsis of what happened. That is what I am supposed to be writing.
Attempting again... not sure what to include, where to start where to end...
"I don't want to write this" I hear myself saying heavy head in hands. It is too hard and too painful.
"I don't want to live this" are the words that find their way out of me next.
It hurts so bad
and it is so confusing
It didn't need to be
at least for me.
would it have been for him
if he would have listened?
If he would have had my best interest at the forefront?
Why am I bad?
I don't understand
Sunday, October 6, 2019
To care or not to care, that is the question
so... I care.
I'm not so good at not giving a shit. That feeling never does last that long.
Now what to do about it?
This confusion is confusing
why me and why then?
I have felt answers and been given signs
some will write it all off
many will write me off
but I can't really write myself off (well actually I can but I am pretty resolved not to)
and I don't think I can write all the signs off either.
Well I can
but why would I
and especially when their is such a stupid and confusing identity crises that follows the type of breaking that I am privy too.
sigh
life
such a grand adventure
and so tricky to balance
especially when we all have it so damn easy
in all of our luxuries.
As humans
I believe
we are meant to struggle
and I believe it because:
that seems to be when growth happens
it seems to be where people find the most joy and satisfaction
without it, nothing happens
and
when people aren't, they create their own.
So we are given struggles
and if we are not
Then it is time to choose wisely
because like it or not, there is a higher power
and forever is for real
I'm not so good at not giving a shit. That feeling never does last that long.
Now what to do about it?
This confusion is confusing
why me and why then?
I have felt answers and been given signs
some will write it all off
many will write me off
but I can't really write myself off (well actually I can but I am pretty resolved not to)
and I don't think I can write all the signs off either.
Well I can
but why would I
and especially when their is such a stupid and confusing identity crises that follows the type of breaking that I am privy too.
sigh
life
such a grand adventure
and so tricky to balance
especially when we all have it so damn easy
in all of our luxuries.
As humans
I believe
we are meant to struggle
and I believe it because:
that seems to be when growth happens
it seems to be where people find the most joy and satisfaction
without it, nothing happens
and
when people aren't, they create their own.
So we are given struggles
and if we are not
Then it is time to choose wisely
because like it or not, there is a higher power
and forever is for real
Saturday, October 5, 2019
blah blah blog
Sometimes I wonder about things I post. I wonder if I should take them down. I wonder how people will interpret them and I wonder how they will judge or perceive me.
I wonder these things because what I share on here is not likely how I am perceived in real life and I expose a whole lot of vulnerabilities that I do not wear nearly as visibly in real time and I do not feel at all times. Part of that is because I am continually working through them, choosing to process and keep moving forward instead of packing away to destroy future days or allowing it to run rampant in the rumination that comes with the territory of my mental ailments.
At least that is what I think.
Who knows.
I do try to be transparent and I am regularly accused of /complemented for being "real."
I also am very honest.
Sometimes to a fault.
Lately I have been coming in too hot and I scare people away even more than normal.
People don't quite know what to do with me or how to take me. It is much easier and safer to just write me off, keep a safe distance, etc.
I get it.
And still I don't.
Mostly I am okay with it, but sometimes it hurts real deep.
I have thought on occasion that I might be like emotional pornography to people. They love to see vulnerabilities so easily exposed and they will embrace it for a moment with me, exposing their vulnerabilities, claiming it is "refreshing" but then the distance they are sure to maintain suggests that they are not so keen to embrace me openly into their circles in real life. I am their vulnerable little secret friend. Depending on just how much they feel I picked up on they may or may not want to talk to me again and they behave as if I am shameful.
Sometimes I have had what I thought were good friends suddenly stop associating with me, or slowly but obviously intentionally stop associating. It has confused me and hurt as I feel they have decided something about me and with out talking to me about it they just want to write me off. Since I have had the tendency to accept too much responsibility and/or blame myself too heavily I think I have maybe downplayed some of those peoples darker secrets that I so very often stumble across.
But, with the exception of my husband, and sometimes not even him, I don't really share that information unless their is a good reason and rarely with anyone that has ties to the person. I don't feel it is my place and I rarely judge as harshly as they may expect/wish me too. So normally, in the real world, I don't share intimate or exposing information about others with anyone but my husband. ...Who I share everything with and tell everything too, so much so that he had figured out even before I had that I had developed feelings for my therapist... So then you can only imagine all that I told him after that all fell apart, considering the intensity of my emotions, and my deductive reasoning at the time that led me to the conclusion that likely part of the transference issue stemmed directly from our own relationship issues.
...It is a bit infuriating to me that I was able to look at things so reasonably and objectively and understand so well the psychology of the situation when I was not sleeping, had lost 10 pounds in two weeks, had tons of extra energy, was getting messages from spirit animals and other phenomenon that I can't explain, had flooding memories, heightened senses, chemicals surging that I could feel, a heart that was physically hurting and inhibitions lost, yet my therapist could not?
I risk rambling off track here.
My point was, I share far too much on this blog and I question it because it is not the entirety of me and I wonder if it is wise...
But I also feel somewhat strongly that leaving this thing up, exposing all that I have, documenting my thought processing could potentially help the damned industry of blasphemy if they would listen. Maybe could help others who feel but also hide. Maybe modeling my thinking can help others improve theirs, by good example or by bad.
Maybe me leaving it will increasingly help me to embrace all my parts and help me as I continue on my journey to evolve and improve...
I don't know.
Whatever.
I do feel my writing is loosing its zest. My menial mortal mind is far less interesting and not so free with its creative and artistic liberties.
Again... Who knows
and sometimes
I just don't even give a shit anyway.
which ironically
is kind of nice to feel
So whatever,
I am leaving my blah, blah, blog shit up, because I just don't really give one about what people think of me right now anyway,
maybe because I am realizing just how shitty people really are.
We claim to be so good and to want to help
but when it comes right down to it, very few of us will stop and help
Very few of us are really good Samaritans.
And maybe I am just as shitty as every Levite and arrogant, egocentric person that passes
Maybe I am too damn focused on me in reality
... I am going off and wandering too far...
When right now I really don't want to give a shit and I want to embrace this while it lasts...
I wonder these things because what I share on here is not likely how I am perceived in real life and I expose a whole lot of vulnerabilities that I do not wear nearly as visibly in real time and I do not feel at all times. Part of that is because I am continually working through them, choosing to process and keep moving forward instead of packing away to destroy future days or allowing it to run rampant in the rumination that comes with the territory of my mental ailments.
At least that is what I think.
Who knows.
I do try to be transparent and I am regularly accused of /complemented for being "real."
I also am very honest.
Sometimes to a fault.
Lately I have been coming in too hot and I scare people away even more than normal.
People don't quite know what to do with me or how to take me. It is much easier and safer to just write me off, keep a safe distance, etc.
I get it.
And still I don't.
Mostly I am okay with it, but sometimes it hurts real deep.
I have thought on occasion that I might be like emotional pornography to people. They love to see vulnerabilities so easily exposed and they will embrace it for a moment with me, exposing their vulnerabilities, claiming it is "refreshing" but then the distance they are sure to maintain suggests that they are not so keen to embrace me openly into their circles in real life. I am their vulnerable little secret friend. Depending on just how much they feel I picked up on they may or may not want to talk to me again and they behave as if I am shameful.
Sometimes I have had what I thought were good friends suddenly stop associating with me, or slowly but obviously intentionally stop associating. It has confused me and hurt as I feel they have decided something about me and with out talking to me about it they just want to write me off. Since I have had the tendency to accept too much responsibility and/or blame myself too heavily I think I have maybe downplayed some of those peoples darker secrets that I so very often stumble across.
But, with the exception of my husband, and sometimes not even him, I don't really share that information unless their is a good reason and rarely with anyone that has ties to the person. I don't feel it is my place and I rarely judge as harshly as they may expect/wish me too. So normally, in the real world, I don't share intimate or exposing information about others with anyone but my husband. ...Who I share everything with and tell everything too, so much so that he had figured out even before I had that I had developed feelings for my therapist... So then you can only imagine all that I told him after that all fell apart, considering the intensity of my emotions, and my deductive reasoning at the time that led me to the conclusion that likely part of the transference issue stemmed directly from our own relationship issues.
...It is a bit infuriating to me that I was able to look at things so reasonably and objectively and understand so well the psychology of the situation when I was not sleeping, had lost 10 pounds in two weeks, had tons of extra energy, was getting messages from spirit animals and other phenomenon that I can't explain, had flooding memories, heightened senses, chemicals surging that I could feel, a heart that was physically hurting and inhibitions lost, yet my therapist could not?
I risk rambling off track here.
My point was, I share far too much on this blog and I question it because it is not the entirety of me and I wonder if it is wise...
But I also feel somewhat strongly that leaving this thing up, exposing all that I have, documenting my thought processing could potentially help the damned industry of blasphemy if they would listen. Maybe could help others who feel but also hide. Maybe modeling my thinking can help others improve theirs, by good example or by bad.
Maybe me leaving it will increasingly help me to embrace all my parts and help me as I continue on my journey to evolve and improve...
I don't know.
Whatever.
I do feel my writing is loosing its zest. My menial mortal mind is far less interesting and not so free with its creative and artistic liberties.
Again... Who knows
and sometimes
I just don't even give a shit anyway.
which ironically
is kind of nice to feel
So whatever,
I am leaving my blah, blah, blog shit up, because I just don't really give one about what people think of me right now anyway,
maybe because I am realizing just how shitty people really are.
We claim to be so good and to want to help
but when it comes right down to it, very few of us will stop and help
Very few of us are really good Samaritans.
And maybe I am just as shitty as every Levite and arrogant, egocentric person that passes
Maybe I am too damn focused on me in reality
... I am going off and wandering too far...
When right now I really don't want to give a shit and I want to embrace this while it lasts...
Friday, October 4, 2019
Sadness
Sometimes I wonder if maybe I really am supposed to allow myself to be sacrificed to protect Dr. He.
I wonder if people would listen then?
I wonder if C S is still alive, or if she succumbed to the psychological persuasion by the therapist gods that she needed to be sacrificed, she was not worth their time and effort, and she was unsalvageable. C is the lady on Quora.com who had a similar experience with an abrupt termination with a therapist due to transference and countertransference https://qr.ae/TW2ApN. She has not had any activity since this: https://qr.ae/TWsa9N. Actually she upvoted one answer the following day, which, depending on what time she was on there could have been within the same timeframe; 11:30 to midnight kind of thing. This is evidence to me that she still had some life left in her and I hope and pray she had not already done some irreversible damage in a moment of weakness and brain malfunction. Yet I also know, firsthand, how profoundly and deeply this type of situation effects a person; how it can actually change your brain chemistry and how that "unredeemable" message becomes so deeply entrenched and/or confirmed when it is coming from an institution of psychology and from a therapist you connect easily with and love deeply. Especially when there is some form of or implied return of those feelings. I also know how easy it is to die and how hyper-vigilant one must be when they are feeling those things and their chemistry or brain is out of whack. Some of the evidence that confirms this conviction comes from my brother's death; how he was behaving before he died and the concrete evidence that suggested he probably did not mean to kill himself in that moment.
So I hope and pray C S is okay, but I also know the reality and I don't know what kind of support she has or does not have...
And I am so bothered by this. I am angry that 40 people read her comment before me and said nothing. I am angry that the facility she was attending decided she should not be allowed to see her therapist anymore because they felt boundaries had been crossed and then she was not allowed to talk with her at all. I am angry that the therapist that she was banned from would walk past her and not even acknowledge her. I am angry that she was branded and stigmatized, when she did nothing wrong. She was there to get help and she loved her therapist, that is not a bad person. The psychological abuse of her situation is just plain stupid.
I am angry at the man on Quora who said this "it's possible that closure could harm you more" in his answer to this question: https://qr.ae/TW2AR8
https://www.quora.com/My-therapist-and-I-developed-a-codependent-enmeshed-dynamic-She-recently-terminated-my-treatment-abruptly-and-without-explanation-I-m-absolutely-devastated-What-can-what-should-I-do-I-don-t-even-have-closure-I-m#
I did not ask any of these questions by the way.
I am also angry at this lady's answer about being attracted to clients: https://qr.ae/TW2Ap0
If you look through the many comments you will find my comment about the stigma of getting mental health care in the US. This comment is mine: "So much of a stigma that is appalling to think that these people could be found or considered attractive in anyway. You would have to have something wrong with yourself to think someone with mental health issues is attractive. You'd be a stain on your profession.
I hope you are sensing my harsh sarcasm here that I am intentionally using to illustrate how people in the professions can and do contribute to that stigma"
I am angry and sad.
I am angry because people believe the "professional" over you and if they decide to twist you into something you are not to cover their ass then you will be perceived as that. I am angry because I have managed well but even I question myself "maybe I wasn't that bad, maybe I really was delusional about how delusional I was?"
As I have I tried to explain, because I am so tired of being misunderstood, the situation is confusing to a brain that is functioning fine.... but the thing is mine was not.
And I am so angry at how everyone will just let it slide and let me figure it out on my own because I try to be responsible and self-sufficient, because I try to not be a burden or be a cry baby, because I try to be tough and intelligent, because I work damn hard to stay straight, level, and rational even when I am not.
I am sad that I am on my own. Alone in fighting this. Alone in standing up for myself, because it is confusing and I was not broken in a super obvious and in your face ways. I am sad that I am discredited. I am sad that I am too much for my husband and not enough. I am sad that he doesn't want to stand up for me, that his method is still to build his own walls of self protection if I am not okay. I am sad because if the situation were reversed I'd not have let it slide and I would have gotten to the bottom of it for him. I am sad that he is scarred in his own ways and that this further hurts me... I am sad at the world and I am sad at the losses I feel. I am sad that I know I broke so big and it was so damn hard but they would not listen and because they are the professionals it is and will continue to be used against me as justification for not treating me. I am sad and mad.
And I will explain now what it is like to go manic, at least give an analogy that maybe people can relate to. Orgasm; it is intense and amazing. A euphoric release. It is everything in one brief moment. It is exquisite and divine and addicting. But would it be healthy to maintain that level of intensity for an extended period of time?
The other day, at that moment for my husband, I saw in his face and could feel in his body exactly what I have been trying to explain; "That," I said, "Is mania"
When that level of emotional intensity lasts for weeks "it is hard on your brain" according to my new psychiatric PA and yet she cannot diagnose me because she was not my provider at that point in time. She didn't see me until I was months exhausted and fading into the depressive side of that intensity.
That, Dr. He, is the fire you played with, and it was not fair, it is not right that you turned me into anything other than manic in those moments where I was deemed acting inappropriate but not in a medical way even though I did nothing physically inappropriate and how I was "inappropriate" I owned a million times knowing and trying to explain that it was evidence of my reaction being too extreme.
I initially thought is was tied to head injury, but the evidence suggests, it was psychological manipulation and abuse of power... and psychological mishandling that is common enough to be read about thousands of times on Quora.com but so poorly handled that lives are potentially being lost.
If mine is lost too, will you listen then?
Too bad jack assess
I will not die for you!
I will live for others instead!
(at least that is my anthem I am telling myself right now to combat the sadness and lost cause feelings that are trying to creep back in)
...
...
...
I am sad
Monday, September 30, 2019
Please Keep Fighting!
Someone requested an answer from me on Quora,com while on the website I visited a lady I follow's page.
I am concerned about this beautiful lady. I became aquatinted with her because she was struggling with a similar transference counter-transference issue. I think that policies need to be changed. I am angry. https://qr.ae/TWsa9N
I am surprised by how significantly more read my answers and the questions and answers I have read about transience and countertransference related issues are compared to other psychological issues. There is a problem here. There is a problem in the industry. It is not okay.
I am angry that therapists drop clients because they have feelings for them and that is supposed to be "in the best interest"
It is not. It merely protects the therapist from what is unlikely to happen anyway.
We are not murders. We are not stalkers. We are not worthless. We are not disposable. We are not forbidden and we are not taboo! We are not unreasonable.
But we are also not so strong that we can carry the weight of your debatable transgression alone, misunderstood, and misrepresented.
We are worth listening to.
We are worth fighting for.
We are worth loving and following through with to reach the other side.
We can manage.
We can handle so much
but the cold turn and rejection
in the place that we feel the safest, we trust, we love
because we might actually be lovable?
that is bullshit
and APA you need to reconsider the policies and practices you are feeding, encouraging and the very one-sided protection you are offering.
Please C S, Keep Fighting!
and Dr. He, if you ever read this, please don't play these games. Please hear me. And please try a different approach.
It is easier to ask for forgiveness than permission.
Don't ask for permission to help us, ask for forgiveness. ... really, I can give that and help you receive that much more easily than the consequences that might befall you otherwise.
I cannot simply let this go.
I have to fight and I am sorry if that is against you because I really do care about you and think you are a beautiful person... you are human, you make mistakes, I can work with that, I can fight for you too, but I cannot sacrifice me for you and I have to stand up for myself and others.
I am scared for this beautiful lady. I am scared for others. I know how profoundly and deeply this shit cuts.
This is not an anticipated blog post but right now I feel a sense of urgency...
And I am so scared that this beautiful lady may have already lost the battle. It is a real battle and I know it...
I am concerned about this beautiful lady. I became aquatinted with her because she was struggling with a similar transference counter-transference issue. I think that policies need to be changed. I am angry. https://qr.ae/TWsa9N
I am surprised by how significantly more read my answers and the questions and answers I have read about transience and countertransference related issues are compared to other psychological issues. There is a problem here. There is a problem in the industry. It is not okay.
I am angry that therapists drop clients because they have feelings for them and that is supposed to be "in the best interest"
It is not. It merely protects the therapist from what is unlikely to happen anyway.
We are not murders. We are not stalkers. We are not worthless. We are not disposable. We are not forbidden and we are not taboo! We are not unreasonable.
But we are also not so strong that we can carry the weight of your debatable transgression alone, misunderstood, and misrepresented.
We are worth listening to.
We are worth fighting for.
We are worth loving and following through with to reach the other side.
We can manage.
We can handle so much
but the cold turn and rejection
in the place that we feel the safest, we trust, we love
because we might actually be lovable?
that is bullshit
and APA you need to reconsider the policies and practices you are feeding, encouraging and the very one-sided protection you are offering.
Please C S, Keep Fighting!
and Dr. He, if you ever read this, please don't play these games. Please hear me. And please try a different approach.
It is easier to ask for forgiveness than permission.
Don't ask for permission to help us, ask for forgiveness. ... really, I can give that and help you receive that much more easily than the consequences that might befall you otherwise.
I cannot simply let this go.
I have to fight and I am sorry if that is against you because I really do care about you and think you are a beautiful person... you are human, you make mistakes, I can work with that, I can fight for you too, but I cannot sacrifice me for you and I have to stand up for myself and others.
I am scared for this beautiful lady. I am scared for others. I know how profoundly and deeply this shit cuts.
This is not an anticipated blog post but right now I feel a sense of urgency...
And I am so scared that this beautiful lady may have already lost the battle. It is a real battle and I know it...
Unique, just like everyone else
I like how "level" and "normal" this new medication helps me feel. I'll be driving along and be like, "wow, I'm like, not thinking about anything really and not really feeling anything other than human and normal." And I like it. I savor it. Which I am sure is not "normal" but really is there such a thing as "normal?"
Actually, I know there is because sometimes I feel it.
In those times I am fairly certain I am just like the rest of the people traveling through life mostly oblivious to just how abnormal they really are because they are mostly the same and they have places they fit and they don't really question their conformity all that much.
It's a nice experience -"normal"- though I am fairly certain I appreciate these feelings more than most.
When I feel this, which I am feeling more and more as I "stabilize" with the medication and therapy, I want to forget that I am actually not normal. I want to forget how far off the spectrum I can and have gone. I want to loose touch with the abnormals of myself... And I have. And I sometimes do.
But is that a good idea? Right now I am not sure that it is. Probably because I still have stuff to work through and I can't pretend completely because I now have to take 3 separate medications regularly to be here.
I also occasionally feel kind of dizzy and medicine head-ish, not often but it happens. I also still have a bit of push back with the medication and I am still kind of fragile. Plus I have the identity crises that comes along with it. I am not sure what to do and when I look at jobs and/or returning to previous projects and goals I feel incredibly gun-shy and small. My confidence has taken a pretty big hit when it was already shaky at best. It is why I am touting how proud of myself I can and should be, because I can and should but I am not totally there yet... I'm working on it.
I am often not sure what direction to take.
Today at new physical therapists office I met a lovely 19 year old who was home from college because she had a "mental health crises" over the summer. I was so impressed and proud of her for how casually she said it.
When I had my "mental health crises" at 19 I could not own it nor talk about it so easily and openly. Of course, as it so often is, my crises had been going on for quite some time completely overlooked, ignored, brushed under the rug, not talked about, and hidden (by me mostly). It was kind of the first time in my family's history that they were forced to face the reality of "mental health issues." A turning point for my family, but still we were all too stigmatized and self stigmatizing to more productively deal with and fully accept our individual fates; thus it turned out to be too little too late when it came to my brother who years later died at his own hand.
So I wonder if I can own so easily and comfortably my "stuff?"
But I still feel the way people withdraw and proceed with caution when I mention anything of the sort and I am not sure if it is reflective of how they feel or if it is more reflective of my own insecurities in accepting and embracing that part of me....
That's the hard stuff.
Which is why when I am normal
I start to believe that, and I back away and forget that I am not. Then get confused again by how people are responding to me, the not-so-normal deep thinker, big idea haver, and over analyzer that I am...
So
the balance.
Normal is nice
but really
mania can be fun
depression can be tragically beautiful in it's depth and complexity
embarrassing is hard but I'm over it (mostly) because
what's the point? I'd have to hide too much and too much of the time
and really my mind and body are pretty fascinating
my life stories are pretty fantastic
so
maybe I am too
and that is pretty cool
because I can live a thousand lives in a day
and I can stand up to giants
maybe I won't win and maybe I'll take a beating
but In the end I'll make a difference
to someone, somewhere
And I will survive
because I have super powers
and I can read minds
I can see the future and hear the gods when they speak through their many different dialects
I can ride the waves and the clouds
and feel every molecule of it.
I can withstands months of chemicals surging through my system to a palpable level.
I can solve all the worlds problems if only they would listen
And all of this I can do while keeping one foot firmly planted on the ground of reality. Can you?
Thus I am often more sane than the sane because I see and know my insanity.
So finding happy in my normal, I hope I really can embrace all parts of me
...because
I am unique, just like everyone else.
:)
Actually, I know there is because sometimes I feel it.
In those times I am fairly certain I am just like the rest of the people traveling through life mostly oblivious to just how abnormal they really are because they are mostly the same and they have places they fit and they don't really question their conformity all that much.
It's a nice experience -"normal"- though I am fairly certain I appreciate these feelings more than most.
When I feel this, which I am feeling more and more as I "stabilize" with the medication and therapy, I want to forget that I am actually not normal. I want to forget how far off the spectrum I can and have gone. I want to loose touch with the abnormals of myself... And I have. And I sometimes do.
But is that a good idea? Right now I am not sure that it is. Probably because I still have stuff to work through and I can't pretend completely because I now have to take 3 separate medications regularly to be here.
I also occasionally feel kind of dizzy and medicine head-ish, not often but it happens. I also still have a bit of push back with the medication and I am still kind of fragile. Plus I have the identity crises that comes along with it. I am not sure what to do and when I look at jobs and/or returning to previous projects and goals I feel incredibly gun-shy and small. My confidence has taken a pretty big hit when it was already shaky at best. It is why I am touting how proud of myself I can and should be, because I can and should but I am not totally there yet... I'm working on it.
I am often not sure what direction to take.
Today at new physical therapists office I met a lovely 19 year old who was home from college because she had a "mental health crises" over the summer. I was so impressed and proud of her for how casually she said it.
When I had my "mental health crises" at 19 I could not own it nor talk about it so easily and openly. Of course, as it so often is, my crises had been going on for quite some time completely overlooked, ignored, brushed under the rug, not talked about, and hidden (by me mostly). It was kind of the first time in my family's history that they were forced to face the reality of "mental health issues." A turning point for my family, but still we were all too stigmatized and self stigmatizing to more productively deal with and fully accept our individual fates; thus it turned out to be too little too late when it came to my brother who years later died at his own hand.
So I wonder if I can own so easily and comfortably my "stuff?"
But I still feel the way people withdraw and proceed with caution when I mention anything of the sort and I am not sure if it is reflective of how they feel or if it is more reflective of my own insecurities in accepting and embracing that part of me....
That's the hard stuff.
Which is why when I am normal
I start to believe that, and I back away and forget that I am not. Then get confused again by how people are responding to me, the not-so-normal deep thinker, big idea haver, and over analyzer that I am...
So
the balance.
Normal is nice
but really
mania can be fun
depression can be tragically beautiful in it's depth and complexity
embarrassing is hard but I'm over it (mostly) because
what's the point? I'd have to hide too much and too much of the time
and really my mind and body are pretty fascinating
my life stories are pretty fantastic
so
maybe I am too
and that is pretty cool
because I can live a thousand lives in a day
and I can stand up to giants
maybe I won't win and maybe I'll take a beating
but In the end I'll make a difference
to someone, somewhere
And I will survive
because I have super powersand I can read minds
I can see the future and hear the gods when they speak through their many different dialects
I can ride the waves and the clouds
and feel every molecule of it.
I can withstands months of chemicals surging through my system to a palpable level.
I can solve all the worlds problems if only they would listen
And all of this I can do while keeping one foot firmly planted on the ground of reality. Can you?
Thus I am often more sane than the sane because I see and know my insanity.
So finding happy in my normal, I hope I really can embrace all parts of me
...because
I am unique, just like everyone else.
:)
Sunday, September 29, 2019
Therapeutic relationships are not your everyday story
Time to write it out, I think.
My mind is thinking on something my lovely neighbor friend said. She was talking about going through a hard time and how she was addicted to her story. Naturally I think she is suggesting that I might be addicted to my story....
and I am trying to understand this idea.
Where does it start, where does it end and am I addicted or am I simply trying to figure out how to write the chapters still? How to write the ending to this story?
Should I right/write an ending to this story?
And how addicted am I?
I will own that I am addicted to something in my story. But I am not totally sure what. I have been trying not to think about it and redirect my thinking to other things. I have plenty to think about and do, and I do think about and do plenty of other things. Yet somehow I am still stuck in this story. This Perri Cheri character still holds a place in my story, the tragic hero that I just can't quite place or has been placed and I can't quite write out of my story. I don't know how to let him stay in my heart without it breaking it and I can't quite let him go completely because I like the me he brought out and was bringing out. Yet the me he brought out is the me that was turned away and rejected. The me that was not worth helping. The me that was not heard or noticed when it so desperately needed to be. Even that me was invisible and unloveable... So I need to let him go I suppose but at the same time... sigh.
...I am not so sure it is my story I am addicted to... I wonder if I am addicted to the sensation I felt in those moments. I wonder if I am addicted to the beautiful tragedy, the comedy of errors. And I also wonder if I am not addicted at all but rather I was left in a cliffhanger of unresolved reality.
I don't know. My mind can take this so many ways and it does. So I am allowing myself a bit of space to I ponder this idea of being addicted to ones story and I wonder what to do about it.
"Just let it go"
I have and I try and I do and I don't and I can and I can't and I am but I am not and time will heal all wounds while absence makes the heart grow fonder....
and...
sigh...
the traps
In reality, I need reality, or I at least know that reality would help. To be able to put into context the reality of what happened with the person with whom it happened. It is the ideal that so few people ever actually get because we are so very human and so very flawed, proud, selfish and scared.
"Be the change you wish to see in the world"
How?
How can I be that change when I am not allowed?
I think the mental health industry has a similar problem to our education systems: We challenge kids and claim we want kids to be creative problem solvers and utilize higher level thinking skills but when they do they are punished for various reasons:
The mental health industry claims to want to help people be able to manage their "mental illness" and yet when they do they are not listened to, not heard, discredited, discouraged and even punished for it. They are overlooked instead of utilized.
I have learned so very much and when I look back I know I have come so very far because I have worked to manage my mood instabilities and my intensities since I was a teen and yet I am still stigmatized and not heard.
I know my symptoms, I know a lot about what helps and what I need. I know I can do many things I am not allowed to do because I don't fit inside the boxes of others.
My lovely fellow piñata person friend pointed out that they don't want to listen because then it destroys their illusions... Maybe so.
Their illusions of control and sanity that are so very ridiculous and we know because we have been broken open and we know how easy it is to be broken open. But we also know the beauty that can come along with it and how that illusion of control and sanity is making themselves and so many people behave in such unethically insane ways.
...addicted to my story
Maybe so
but also, I think that being addicted to my story keeps me alive, because in this story, with the transference that happened and the mania and the "I will never have anything to do with you" and the "let it burn out" -"it" being me- and the "we need to get you stabilized..." so maybe you should go somewhere else and here are some suggestions," mere suggestions, not referrals and not with the people they have there that have the credentials and know how "oh those two didn't work, check with your insurance because we don't want to work with you anymore" my story ends in sacrificing me for him...
I don't like that ending. I don't want that ending. I think that ending needs to be rewritten, and re-righted. It's too deep and too profound... And every time I tried to go somewhere else I had to relive the story, feed the addiction, and it was confusing to me and the new person trying to treat me. One man fed it, one women shamed me for it, one PA tried to treat me knowing they that were abandoning were better qualified to figure this out so she was careful and cautious with how to proceed, herself very likely unsure of who to believe. Each time... feeding the addiction... the story, the fantasy, the taboo, the effort to resolve, and the what was left unknown to me.
So time, yes, but there is some fighting that also has to happen to break this addiction. Some addictions just can't be stopped cold turkey because it's very dangerous to the addict.
My mind is thinking on something my lovely neighbor friend said. She was talking about going through a hard time and how she was addicted to her story. Naturally I think she is suggesting that I might be addicted to my story....
and I am trying to understand this idea.
Where does it start, where does it end and am I addicted or am I simply trying to figure out how to write the chapters still? How to write the ending to this story?
Should I right/write an ending to this story?
And how addicted am I?
I will own that I am addicted to something in my story. But I am not totally sure what. I have been trying not to think about it and redirect my thinking to other things. I have plenty to think about and do, and I do think about and do plenty of other things. Yet somehow I am still stuck in this story. This Perri Cheri character still holds a place in my story, the tragic hero that I just can't quite place or has been placed and I can't quite write out of my story. I don't know how to let him stay in my heart without it breaking it and I can't quite let him go completely because I like the me he brought out and was bringing out. Yet the me he brought out is the me that was turned away and rejected. The me that was not worth helping. The me that was not heard or noticed when it so desperately needed to be. Even that me was invisible and unloveable... So I need to let him go I suppose but at the same time... sigh.
...I am not so sure it is my story I am addicted to... I wonder if I am addicted to the sensation I felt in those moments. I wonder if I am addicted to the beautiful tragedy, the comedy of errors. And I also wonder if I am not addicted at all but rather I was left in a cliffhanger of unresolved reality.
I don't know. My mind can take this so many ways and it does. So I am allowing myself a bit of space to I ponder this idea of being addicted to ones story and I wonder what to do about it.
"Just let it go"
I have and I try and I do and I don't and I can and I can't and I am but I am not and time will heal all wounds while absence makes the heart grow fonder....
and...
sigh...
the traps
In reality, I need reality, or I at least know that reality would help. To be able to put into context the reality of what happened with the person with whom it happened. It is the ideal that so few people ever actually get because we are so very human and so very flawed, proud, selfish and scared.
"Be the change you wish to see in the world"
How?
How can I be that change when I am not allowed?
I think the mental health industry has a similar problem to our education systems: We challenge kids and claim we want kids to be creative problem solvers and utilize higher level thinking skills but when they do they are punished for various reasons:
- because it posses a threat to "classroom management"
- because it is not exactly the way it was taught so it must be the wrong answer
- because the teacher does not understand the different way of saying, doing, or seeing something
- because it does not match the test exactly
- because teachers are worried that other kids might follow suit and get lost
- because we like consistency and order, symmetry and matching and the creative approach or rendition may threaten that
- We like things to me homogenized and homogeneous- it feels safer
- If every kid were doing things their own way it would take the teacher ages to understand and grade
- The kid may be going off on a tangent that keeps them from acquiring the skill that we are required to teach them.
The mental health industry claims to want to help people be able to manage their "mental illness" and yet when they do they are not listened to, not heard, discredited, discouraged and even punished for it. They are overlooked instead of utilized.
I have learned so very much and when I look back I know I have come so very far because I have worked to manage my mood instabilities and my intensities since I was a teen and yet I am still stigmatized and not heard.
I know my symptoms, I know a lot about what helps and what I need. I know I can do many things I am not allowed to do because I don't fit inside the boxes of others.
My lovely fellow piñata person friend pointed out that they don't want to listen because then it destroys their illusions... Maybe so.
Their illusions of control and sanity that are so very ridiculous and we know because we have been broken open and we know how easy it is to be broken open. But we also know the beauty that can come along with it and how that illusion of control and sanity is making themselves and so many people behave in such unethically insane ways.
...addicted to my story
Maybe so
but also, I think that being addicted to my story keeps me alive, because in this story, with the transference that happened and the mania and the "I will never have anything to do with you" and the "let it burn out" -"it" being me- and the "we need to get you stabilized..." so maybe you should go somewhere else and here are some suggestions," mere suggestions, not referrals and not with the people they have there that have the credentials and know how "oh those two didn't work, check with your insurance because we don't want to work with you anymore" my story ends in sacrificing me for him...
I don't like that ending. I don't want that ending. I think that ending needs to be rewritten, and re-righted. It's too deep and too profound... And every time I tried to go somewhere else I had to relive the story, feed the addiction, and it was confusing to me and the new person trying to treat me. One man fed it, one women shamed me for it, one PA tried to treat me knowing they that were abandoning were better qualified to figure this out so she was careful and cautious with how to proceed, herself very likely unsure of who to believe. Each time... feeding the addiction... the story, the fantasy, the taboo, the effort to resolve, and the what was left unknown to me.
So time, yes, but there is some fighting that also has to happen to break this addiction. Some addictions just can't be stopped cold turkey because it's very dangerous to the addict.
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