i've been thinking a lot lately.
(i know...i can almost hear the "oh, great"s and eye rolling that must be going on. at least from hubby, who teases me about the phrase because it almost always involves me asking for money or changing plans or something to that effect.)
the truth is...i've been thinking about myself, about who i am, who i've become, and what i've been through. where i am now.
i miss my blog. but i'm having a hard time coming up with things to write about, or time to write it in. take now, for instance. what do i write about? while my children are pretty much amazing and my husband definitely has the hottest rear end in the world, i'm sure the rest of you don't want to hear about just that. and due to neglect, i don't even know how many readers i have left. (so if you're reading this, thanks.)
there have been a lot of changes in my life, especially within the last six months. many of which i'm not at liberty to discuss, whether out of respect for others they concern or a desire for privacy. it's kind of been a hard six months in a lot of ways, but also good in that i feel like i'm climbing out of the hole.
i saw a new doctor, which is good. i hadn't seen a med doctor for far too long because our insurance changed and i didn't want to look for one. (i HATE seeing new doctors...rehashing the history...trying to get comfortable and trust them...especially in situations like mine, where there is a ton of very uncomfortable history to deal with.) my therapist recommended one, however, and so i finally called and made an appointment. it was long overdue. the doctor i'd seen previously told me that i wasn't bipolar, i just had a hormone imbalance. she put me on progesterone and a bunch of supplements and told me everything would be better. things did get better for awhile, but not by a whole lot. then (stupid me) i stopped taking the progesterone. bad idea. i went back on it....did a little better....still had issues. big, angry, sobbing, mood-swinging issues. suffice it to say, my family wanted to throw me out the window.
new doctor tried very hard not to roll his eyes and very tactfully told me while he didn't have all of the information my previous doctor had, he found it very difficult to believe that i had a progesterone deficiency. (i pretty much got the feeling he thought she was an idiot.) he then proceeded to tell me that from everything he had heard it was very likely i'd been dealing with bipolar disorder since the age of approximately 13, if not sooner. combine that with the PTSD and typical teenage angst, it's no wonder i had so many issues.
so....double the dose of my mood-stabilizer (lamictal) and add in an SNRI (effexor), life is sunshine and roses again. i'm happier and have more energy than i've had in who knows how long (if ever). hubby even told me to tell my doctor at my follow-up that he doesn't want to strangle me anymore. (this news was met with relief....both on my part and that of my doctor, who wasn't quite sure how to handle it, heehee.)
only problem...side effects. stupid, horrible, nasty, hateful side effects. headaches. dizzyness. more headaches. fatigue. (more energy and fatigue...go figure. but it's happening.) yawning. (i know, weird, right?) and headaches. since i already suffer from debilitating migraines, the daily headaches are not well-received. i am hoping that they will start getting better soon. apparently one in ten patients on these meds experience headaches. yuck.
so where was i going with this? oh yeah....blog. life changes. all that. back to the blog.
i got an email several months ago from a doctoral student at purdue (personal blog here), who is doing her dissertation (professional portfolio here) on trauma and blogging. my blog was one of several she's chosen to use in her studies. i'm really excited about this. it made me really analyze my blog and the purpose it has served.
first, as an outlet to me. a really important one. when trauma made it physically impossible to speak...i literally could not get words out....my fingers would still function on a keyboard.
when i needed someone to listen, i had a whole network of fellow survivors, family, and friends. people who were there for me, who really understood what i was saying, because they've lived it, too.
i also have a place that encompasses me. maybe someday, in thirty or forty or fifty years, this blog will still be out there for people to read, maybe even my children.
my story has provided hope for others. this is so humbling to me. i decided a long time ago that if i had to live through hell, i might as well make it worth something. so i took my personal hell and put it out there for the whole world to see, hoping that someone else out there would read it and feel not so alone. since i started this blog in 2008, i have received so many comments and emails from people telling me thank you, that they have hope for themselves because of my healing, that they don't feel so isolated. isolation is a terrifying place to be....so if i can offer one person a feeling of connection, then that is pretty amazing to me.
it's been a kind of documentation of my healing. the ups and downs. the moments of blackest despair, when i wasn't even sure life was worth living, when i was convinced i would never be happy again. the days where i was content, the nights of anxiety and fear, the help i got in therapy. the participation in blog carnivals and groups, research on child abuse, the ability to think and feel. and, ultimately, the regaining of my strength and power, the taking back of myself from my abuser.
so here i am. i don't believe my journey of healing will ever really end, but having put most of the abuse behind me, i have myself to deal with. my lack of self-esteem, the bipolar disorder and the impulsiveness and mood-swings that come with it. medication, therapy, doctors....a lot more future to deal with, even though i've got twenty-six years of past behind me.
four years ago i never, in a million years, could have predicted i'd be right here, sitting at my kitchen table, having lived through everything i have. three years i ago i never would have seen the happiness i've found in the past few weeks. two years ago i would have had a panic attack just thinking about approaching my abuser. one year ago i was really dealing with the abuse....
....and now here i am. imperfect. flawed. but optimistic. cautiously happy. hopeful. still struggling with wrapping my head around this bipolar thing, but i've accepted it. i don't like it, but i accept it. i'm still kind of embarrassed by it, even though it's not my fault, but that's a discussion for another day.
my name is cornnut. i'm twenty-six years old, i'm a wife, a mother, a daughter, a sister, a friend, a blogger, an artist, a student, a pianist, and a survivor. because i truly have survived.
(now you can go sing that destiny's child song, because i know you're all hearing it in your heads.)
(and if you made it this far into this horrendously long and rather disjointed blog post, thanks.)
Showing posts with label counseling. Show all posts
Showing posts with label counseling. Show all posts
Sunday, January 22, 2012
Monday, January 26, 2009
I Resolve to Comfort My Inner Child
my first guest post! Marj aka Thriver blogs at Survivors can Thrive! and runs the Blog Carnival Against Child Abuse. i have been very impressed with the way Marj has used her experiences to help others. thank you for allowing me to post this, Marj!
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After having a much better Christmas than usual or expected--okay, here's the whiny-wiener bad news--I fell while cross-country skiing and injured a few ribs. Then, I got a bad cold. While I was sitting around feeling pain and feeling sorry for myself, I realized that physical illness and injury are big trauma triggers for me.
At my therapist appointment on Thursday, my T said, "You know the actual physical trauma of child abuse gets overlooked and neglected in therapy quite a bit. We focus so much on the emotional trauma and working on feelings, that we don't spend much time on the physical part. As a little girl, you were very, very hurt physically. And most of the time your physical injuries were ignored and received no medical attention."
After she said that, I realized the childhood memory that my recent injury was reminding me of. It wasn't an abuse injury, but the incident reminds me of how many times my childhood injuries and/or illnesses were ignored, overlooked and not attended to in any appropriate, parenting sort of way.
My parents had divorced and, being the upstanding, attentive, appropriate, sane father that he was, dear old "Dad" got full visitation rights with us kids. He had his old, red, two-door jalopy parked in our driveway, waiting to take us to his place for our "visit." I remember that it was winter and there was snow on the ground. My older brother was already seated in the front seat, and my twin sister and I were scooting into the back seat when it happened.
I remember we were all in a hurry to get out of there (even if it was to be with our monster father) because our parents were yelling across the yard at each other: It was the same old topic of, "Where's the child support money?" I got into the back seat first. In her haste to get in after me and close the door behind her, my sister accidentally slammed one of my hands in the heavy car door. I immediately began to wail in pain, while my sister and brother scrambled to get the door back open and release my hand.
My father was oblivious to all this commotion. Instead, he chose this exact moment to zero in and focus on a tiny hole in the knee of my pants, about the size of a dime. Immediately he began to rage. "What the hell do you think you're doing, dressing like this for your visit with me?! Of all the hard-earned money I send to your mother every month, she can't dress you any better than this?! You both have a lot of nerve! Go in and change your clothes immediately! We're not going anywhere with you dressed in rags!" I remember his words and the look of disbelief and outrage on his face. The details of what happened next, however, are rather a blur.
I know my hand hurt like hell. I know all three of us kids did go back inside the house. I know my parents kept on yelling until my father finally drove away alone. I know I did not receive any medical attention--parental attention of any kind--for my smashed hand. There was no emergency room, no doctor's call, no ice pack, nothing. I think I went into the bathroom and ran some cold water in the sink to soothe my throbbing hand.
Now, with a broken rib, all you can do is wait for it to heal. You're not put into a cast. About all you can do is ice it down and take pain meds. It takes about six to eight weeks--and you wait and wait--to get back to normal activity while your ribs heal. That's about all I can do.
There's not much else to be done on this rib issue, when it comes to my healthy, present day self care. But, I started thinking that there are so many ways I can nurture and heal my inner child. This remembrance is an opportunity for me to mourn my lost and neglected childhood and to grieve for the emotional and physical pain that I, as a little girl, had to endure alone. What types of nurturing and basic care did you not receive from the people who were supposed to be your parents?
Hhmmm...let's start a list. Mothering we didn’t get: reassurance, warmth, comfort, empathy, compassion, protection, optimism, confidence, faith, songs, rocking, attachment, holding, gentleness, patience, allowance, acceptance, guidance, safety, reliability, consistency, TLC, caring, attention, medical attention, adoration, play, wisdom, tenderness, joy, trust, LOVE, unconditional love, nurturing, delight...
Delight. Yes. Don't you like that one? Is it so much to ask that a mother actually take delight in her precious child? It comes so easily for me with my own beautiful son. The day I brought my tiny newborn home from the hospital was about the most elated I've ever been in my life. I was so delighted with my new child. Why was it such an overwhelming burden and impossibility for my own mother?
This is one of the reasons why I did what many may consider an odd thing--I bought a baby doll and I sing to her. In a mindful and sincere way, I sing to my inner child: "You're my beautiful baby girl. You're an angel in this world. You're adorable. My beautiful baby girl."
Using my motherly list I started above, I wrote a poem, which I can also put to music in my head and sing to my inner child. Here it is:
Nurture My Soul
I love you
There, there
Let me comfort you
I care
It’s Okay
It’s okay to cry
I’ll protect you
I’m here
It’s safe now for you to rest
Lay your head down
Here’s my shoulder
I will stroke your hair
It’s okay
You can show me
I will dress your wounds
Sleep now
Close your eyes
I will stay with you
No need to hide
It’s safe for you now
You can be you with me
Run to me
When you’re scared
I will protect you
You can feel
Even your rage
It is safe with me
You are beautiful
The way you are
I find great joy in you
I am patient
With your not knowing
And I will show you how
My arms are open
Fall into them
I will gently rock you
You’re frightened
It’s dark
Be still; I’ll sing to you
Everyone has fears
But the world can be a wonderful place
I’ll help you to see that It’ll be okay.
Copyright 2009 Marj McCabe ~ All Rights Reserved
----------------------------------
After having a much better Christmas than usual or expected--okay, here's the whiny-wiener bad news--I fell while cross-country skiing and injured a few ribs. Then, I got a bad cold. While I was sitting around feeling pain and feeling sorry for myself, I realized that physical illness and injury are big trauma triggers for me.
At my therapist appointment on Thursday, my T said, "You know the actual physical trauma of child abuse gets overlooked and neglected in therapy quite a bit. We focus so much on the emotional trauma and working on feelings, that we don't spend much time on the physical part. As a little girl, you were very, very hurt physically. And most of the time your physical injuries were ignored and received no medical attention."
After she said that, I realized the childhood memory that my recent injury was reminding me of. It wasn't an abuse injury, but the incident reminds me of how many times my childhood injuries and/or illnesses were ignored, overlooked and not attended to in any appropriate, parenting sort of way.
My parents had divorced and, being the upstanding, attentive, appropriate, sane father that he was, dear old "Dad" got full visitation rights with us kids. He had his old, red, two-door jalopy parked in our driveway, waiting to take us to his place for our "visit." I remember that it was winter and there was snow on the ground. My older brother was already seated in the front seat, and my twin sister and I were scooting into the back seat when it happened.
I remember we were all in a hurry to get out of there (even if it was to be with our monster father) because our parents were yelling across the yard at each other: It was the same old topic of, "Where's the child support money?" I got into the back seat first. In her haste to get in after me and close the door behind her, my sister accidentally slammed one of my hands in the heavy car door. I immediately began to wail in pain, while my sister and brother scrambled to get the door back open and release my hand.
My father was oblivious to all this commotion. Instead, he chose this exact moment to zero in and focus on a tiny hole in the knee of my pants, about the size of a dime. Immediately he began to rage. "What the hell do you think you're doing, dressing like this for your visit with me?! Of all the hard-earned money I send to your mother every month, she can't dress you any better than this?! You both have a lot of nerve! Go in and change your clothes immediately! We're not going anywhere with you dressed in rags!" I remember his words and the look of disbelief and outrage on his face. The details of what happened next, however, are rather a blur.
I know my hand hurt like hell. I know all three of us kids did go back inside the house. I know my parents kept on yelling until my father finally drove away alone. I know I did not receive any medical attention--parental attention of any kind--for my smashed hand. There was no emergency room, no doctor's call, no ice pack, nothing. I think I went into the bathroom and ran some cold water in the sink to soothe my throbbing hand.
Now, with a broken rib, all you can do is wait for it to heal. You're not put into a cast. About all you can do is ice it down and take pain meds. It takes about six to eight weeks--and you wait and wait--to get back to normal activity while your ribs heal. That's about all I can do.
There's not much else to be done on this rib issue, when it comes to my healthy, present day self care. But, I started thinking that there are so many ways I can nurture and heal my inner child. This remembrance is an opportunity for me to mourn my lost and neglected childhood and to grieve for the emotional and physical pain that I, as a little girl, had to endure alone. What types of nurturing and basic care did you not receive from the people who were supposed to be your parents?
Hhmmm...let's start a list. Mothering we didn’t get: reassurance, warmth, comfort, empathy, compassion, protection, optimism, confidence, faith, songs, rocking, attachment, holding, gentleness, patience, allowance, acceptance, guidance, safety, reliability, consistency, TLC, caring, attention, medical attention, adoration, play, wisdom, tenderness, joy, trust, LOVE, unconditional love, nurturing, delight...
Delight. Yes. Don't you like that one? Is it so much to ask that a mother actually take delight in her precious child? It comes so easily for me with my own beautiful son. The day I brought my tiny newborn home from the hospital was about the most elated I've ever been in my life. I was so delighted with my new child. Why was it such an overwhelming burden and impossibility for my own mother?
This is one of the reasons why I did what many may consider an odd thing--I bought a baby doll and I sing to her. In a mindful and sincere way, I sing to my inner child: "You're my beautiful baby girl. You're an angel in this world. You're adorable. My beautiful baby girl."
Using my motherly list I started above, I wrote a poem, which I can also put to music in my head and sing to my inner child. Here it is:
Nurture My Soul
I love you
There, there
Let me comfort you
I care
It’s Okay
It’s okay to cry
I’ll protect you
I’m here
It’s safe now for you to rest
Lay your head down
Here’s my shoulder
I will stroke your hair
It’s okay
You can show me
I will dress your wounds
Sleep now
Close your eyes
I will stay with you
No need to hide
It’s safe for you now
You can be you with me
Run to me
When you’re scared
I will protect you
You can feel
Even your rage
It is safe with me
You are beautiful
The way you are
I find great joy in you
I am patient
With your not knowing
And I will show you how
My arms are open
Fall into them
I will gently rock you
You’re frightened
It’s dark
Be still; I’ll sing to you
Everyone has fears
But the world can be a wonderful place
I’ll help you to see that It’ll be okay.
Copyright 2009 Marj McCabe ~ All Rights Reserved
Saturday, December 20, 2008
looking up
i am feeling a bit better today.
yesterday i called a whole slew of therapists. and left just as many voice mails. when what to my wondering ears should appear but just as many calls back! i have two appointments set up, with two different therapists, and a third that i can see if the first two don't work out. finding a good counselor can be difficult. so, january 5, i will be back in therapy. this is a very good thing.
i think maybe i'm starting to start on the upswing here. since i have fallen so far down, i have a long way to go to get back up. and uphill is always much harder. but at least i am feeling hopeful. that is huge...i haven't felt hope in a long time.
i've been spending a little time over on the child abuse survivor network recently. i think that has also helped me a lot. i've been able to learn about other people's experiences, and their healing, and how they deal with things. people who have been through much, much, much worse than i have. i have been amazed at how supportive they are to me, even as a complete stranger. it's been really good for me, i think.
i also didn't have to go to work yesterday. the weather was miserable, and the roads scary, so i stayed home and just relaxed with the hubby, which was very nice. later we went out grocery/christmas shopping. and i got a new purse with some birthday money that my grandparents sent me. (i freakin' love it!) we also bought trivial pursuit because it was on sale at wal-mart. we played a bit before hubby had to go to bed. (poor guy has to get up at 5 am to get ready for work.) it was nice to just chill out. and i was already feeling better after having made an appointment with a therapist.
so things are looking up. at least for now. i'm going to do my best to hold onto this little shred of hope as long as i can...
yesterday i called a whole slew of therapists. and left just as many voice mails. when what to my wondering ears should appear but just as many calls back! i have two appointments set up, with two different therapists, and a third that i can see if the first two don't work out. finding a good counselor can be difficult. so, january 5, i will be back in therapy. this is a very good thing.
i think maybe i'm starting to start on the upswing here. since i have fallen so far down, i have a long way to go to get back up. and uphill is always much harder. but at least i am feeling hopeful. that is huge...i haven't felt hope in a long time.
i've been spending a little time over on the child abuse survivor network recently. i think that has also helped me a lot. i've been able to learn about other people's experiences, and their healing, and how they deal with things. people who have been through much, much, much worse than i have. i have been amazed at how supportive they are to me, even as a complete stranger. it's been really good for me, i think.
i also didn't have to go to work yesterday. the weather was miserable, and the roads scary, so i stayed home and just relaxed with the hubby, which was very nice. later we went out grocery/christmas shopping. and i got a new purse with some birthday money that my grandparents sent me. (i freakin' love it!) we also bought trivial pursuit because it was on sale at wal-mart. we played a bit before hubby had to go to bed. (poor guy has to get up at 5 am to get ready for work.) it was nice to just chill out. and i was already feeling better after having made an appointment with a therapist.
so things are looking up. at least for now. i'm going to do my best to hold onto this little shred of hope as long as i can...
Friday, December 19, 2008
maybe a breakthrough
have you ever felt like you're trapped inside your own head? inside your own body? like you're not really meant to be there, you're struggling to get out, but you are locked in?
i'm not sure how much of this is depression, how much of it is personality, how much of it is because of normal life struggles. and how much of it stems from abuse. but regardless of where it comes from, it's frustrating. and difficult to handle.
last night hubby tried to get me to open up. i can't. i just...can't....lately. i am so lost inside my own mind that it is impossible to find a way out. and i'm scared. downright terrified to deal with all of the dark corners inside myself. if i open up a little, i'm afraid the floodgates will come crashing down and i will seriously lose my sanity. as it is, i'm barely holding on to it. i get defensive, and angry, and agitated when he pushes me to talk to him. part of it, too, is that i don't want him to see what is going on inside my head. i am scared that he will run away screaming. that he will stick me in a hospital. that he will wonder why he married me.
throughout my life i have had periods of time like this. dark, scary, lonely days and weeks and months. i had different ways of dealing with it. hiding (which i still do) in my room, under my covers. fought with my mom. acted out toward my siblings. did stupid things with my friends. (like jumping out of a tree into a river in the middle of the night, when i had no idea how deep the water was or where the rocks ended and the river began.) played the piano. wrote in a journal. created dark and scary works of art....illustrations of the inside of my mind. a lot of people have been disturbed by them. but one of the scary things about them to me is the way that others have been able to relate. to look at them and understand. i don't want anyone else to feel the way that i do.
last night i couldn't sleep again. i am always exhausted, always feeling lethargic, and sometimes i can sleep for 15 hours straight without a problem. then other nights, most nights, i am totally exhausted and my brain is going so fast there is no way i can sleep. so i got up and went downstairs. and then it hit...inspiration. not the regular kind of inspiration. the kind i haven't experienced in a few years. artistic inspiration. i found a pen and i started to draw...and suddenly i had an illustration of the inside of my mind again. just like i used to. just like when i was 18 and i had a million ideas forming in my head. just like when i believed i could really make it as an artist. and then the words i'd been searching for came to my head. the words i couldn't find to describe my feelings: suffocating. helpless. trapped. alone. struggling.
when i was done, i actually felt better. lighter. not happy...but not so dark and depressed, either. for so long i have had the desire to return to my art...but no desire to put the effort forth. i haven't had the desire to put forth effort in much of anything for a long time. perhaps this is a breakthrough. perhaps this one drawing will spur me forward.
i sure could use your prayers. and so could my hubby. i know he is just as lost, feeling just as helpless as i am. he is frustrated and hurt by my behavior. in fact...send your prayers to him. he needs them more than i do.
and the quest for happiness continues. the quest for normalcy continues....the quest for therapy continues.
i'm not sure how much of this is depression, how much of it is personality, how much of it is because of normal life struggles. and how much of it stems from abuse. but regardless of where it comes from, it's frustrating. and difficult to handle.
last night hubby tried to get me to open up. i can't. i just...can't....lately. i am so lost inside my own mind that it is impossible to find a way out. and i'm scared. downright terrified to deal with all of the dark corners inside myself. if i open up a little, i'm afraid the floodgates will come crashing down and i will seriously lose my sanity. as it is, i'm barely holding on to it. i get defensive, and angry, and agitated when he pushes me to talk to him. part of it, too, is that i don't want him to see what is going on inside my head. i am scared that he will run away screaming. that he will stick me in a hospital. that he will wonder why he married me.
throughout my life i have had periods of time like this. dark, scary, lonely days and weeks and months. i had different ways of dealing with it. hiding (which i still do) in my room, under my covers. fought with my mom. acted out toward my siblings. did stupid things with my friends. (like jumping out of a tree into a river in the middle of the night, when i had no idea how deep the water was or where the rocks ended and the river began.) played the piano. wrote in a journal. created dark and scary works of art....illustrations of the inside of my mind. a lot of people have been disturbed by them. but one of the scary things about them to me is the way that others have been able to relate. to look at them and understand. i don't want anyone else to feel the way that i do.
last night i couldn't sleep again. i am always exhausted, always feeling lethargic, and sometimes i can sleep for 15 hours straight without a problem. then other nights, most nights, i am totally exhausted and my brain is going so fast there is no way i can sleep. so i got up and went downstairs. and then it hit...inspiration. not the regular kind of inspiration. the kind i haven't experienced in a few years. artistic inspiration. i found a pen and i started to draw...and suddenly i had an illustration of the inside of my mind again. just like i used to. just like when i was 18 and i had a million ideas forming in my head. just like when i believed i could really make it as an artist. and then the words i'd been searching for came to my head. the words i couldn't find to describe my feelings: suffocating. helpless. trapped. alone. struggling.
when i was done, i actually felt better. lighter. not happy...but not so dark and depressed, either. for so long i have had the desire to return to my art...but no desire to put the effort forth. i haven't had the desire to put forth effort in much of anything for a long time. perhaps this is a breakthrough. perhaps this one drawing will spur me forward.
i sure could use your prayers. and so could my hubby. i know he is just as lost, feeling just as helpless as i am. he is frustrated and hurt by my behavior. in fact...send your prayers to him. he needs them more than i do.
and the quest for happiness continues. the quest for normalcy continues....the quest for therapy continues.
Monday, December 8, 2008
reaching a turning point
the depression has kind of been kicking my butt the last few days.
man, i sure hate this.
but i'm looking forward to happier days....
can you believe there are only 17 days left until christmas? i sure can't. time goes by so quickly. we went christmas shopping for little buddy on saturday. poor kid saw his presents while we were wrapping them and was MAD when i took them away! good thing he's too little to remember them. we got him some fun toys that i think he will love.
his grandma and grandpa bought him this beautiful music box. it plays music accompanied by the chimes on the top. you can pick from 25 christmas songs and 25 "all time favorites," including a few of my favorites: beautiful stranger, let me call you sweetheart, oh you beautiful doll, and blue danube. little buddy's has a train that moves in the scene (i couldn't find a picture of that one, this picture has children in it.)
i'm in the process of getting myself back into counseling. it has been a long time coming...i've really needed it. but i've had a really bad attitude about it/it costs a LOT so i've been putting it off. but hubby has finally convinced me i really need it. and i'm at the point where i am ready to go back. i hate finding therapists. i mean, HATE it. i have seen a total of...let's see...have to count....12 different therapists in my life. the majority of whom i only saw once or twice....maybe three or four times. it is important to see a counselor that i like, that will really help me. most of those that i've seen did not help me. but there were two that really did. that helped me a lot. a ton, in fact, and i am a different person today because of what they've done for me. but the fact that there were 10 that didn't do anything for me and only 2 that did is frustrating. because even those one or two visits cost. time as well as money, emotional as well as physical energy. i am hoping that i'll get lucky here and find one that i really like right off the bat, because we really can't afford to pay six different therapists until i find one i like. my old therapist from high school agreed to look over our provider list and give me a referral for one that she thinks will really help me.
so i've reached a turning point in my life. another one. i am anticipating that this will be a positive thing, that this will benefit me and my family. it will be a lot of hard work...and at times is really scary. but from past experience, i know it will be worth it!
man, i sure hate this.
but i'm looking forward to happier days....
can you believe there are only 17 days left until christmas? i sure can't. time goes by so quickly. we went christmas shopping for little buddy on saturday. poor kid saw his presents while we were wrapping them and was MAD when i took them away! good thing he's too little to remember them. we got him some fun toys that i think he will love.
his grandma and grandpa bought him this beautiful music box. it plays music accompanied by the chimes on the top. you can pick from 25 christmas songs and 25 "all time favorites," including a few of my favorites: beautiful stranger, let me call you sweetheart, oh you beautiful doll, and blue danube. little buddy's has a train that moves in the scene (i couldn't find a picture of that one, this picture has children in it.)i'm in the process of getting myself back into counseling. it has been a long time coming...i've really needed it. but i've had a really bad attitude about it/it costs a LOT so i've been putting it off. but hubby has finally convinced me i really need it. and i'm at the point where i am ready to go back. i hate finding therapists. i mean, HATE it. i have seen a total of...let's see...have to count....12 different therapists in my life. the majority of whom i only saw once or twice....maybe three or four times. it is important to see a counselor that i like, that will really help me. most of those that i've seen did not help me. but there were two that really did. that helped me a lot. a ton, in fact, and i am a different person today because of what they've done for me. but the fact that there were 10 that didn't do anything for me and only 2 that did is frustrating. because even those one or two visits cost. time as well as money, emotional as well as physical energy. i am hoping that i'll get lucky here and find one that i really like right off the bat, because we really can't afford to pay six different therapists until i find one i like. my old therapist from high school agreed to look over our provider list and give me a referral for one that she thinks will really help me.
so i've reached a turning point in my life. another one. i am anticipating that this will be a positive thing, that this will benefit me and my family. it will be a lot of hard work...and at times is really scary. but from past experience, i know it will be worth it!
Saturday, October 18, 2008
the unwelcome dictator
sometimes my depression rules me.
i hate this. i really, really, really hate this. i hate the fact that i don't remember what life is like without it. i hate the fact that my depression affects the ones i love so negatively. but most of all, i hate that fact that i feel so helpless about changing it. i have spent at least half of my life trying to figure out how to make it better. there are some things that give me a temporary fix. my art, for one. blogging, for another, also writing in a journal. i reread some of the things i wrote in my journals when i was 12, 13, 14, even 18 and 19, and i am scared. scared for myself, for what i was dealing with, for those around me who had to put up with my volatility.
i am scared for my husband. for my son. for my future children. for myself.
about every two months or so, i lose it. seriously lose it. i battle the depression in some form or another on a daily basis. mostly in the form of self-loathing, self-defeating thoughts and actions. but these "episodes" are much more than being weepy, and down on myself, and losing interest in things i love. they involve screaming, yelling, sobbing hysterically, slamming doors, saying things i don't mean, running away from myself and everyone around me. hiding under my covers from reality. making threats i don't mean and i don't want to follow through with. damaging the most important thing in my life: my relationship with my husband. suicidal thoughts. anxiety. mood swings. all within the space of an hour or two. zero to sixty in about thirty seconds.
and after the episode, i am miserable. i am embarrassed. i am completely ashamed of myself and my actions. and my husband, emotionally battered, bruised, and hurt beyond anything i can comprehend, cries. hugs me. pushes his feelings aside. and goes on with the hurt and fear of my leaving him. and i want to crawl under a rock and die every time i think of it.
i have been in and out of counseling since i was 13 years old. i saw my very first counselor at the ripe old age of 10. put on anti-depressants at 11. i have been on and off medication. many, many, many kinds of it. sometimes there will be a temporary fix. sometimes things get worse. but always it ends up cycling back to the beginning. all progress i have made is lost in the space of two minutes.
i am tired. tired, frustrated, fearful. my life has been riddled with psychological trauma. but my life has also been full of blessings. of loving and supportive family and friends. of every opportunity for medical help. so why, oh why, in spite of all the good i have had, in spite of all of the hard work i have done, does this continue to happen?
the saddest thing? all of the innocent people who have to deal with my insanity. my husband. and my son. oh, my poor son, who has a mother who loves him more than life itself. my son who has a mother that routinely loses every ounce of dignity and sanity she possesses. my beautiful child who will be scarred for life because his mother has a mental illness she cannot deal with.
my greatest fear. the fear i have lived with my entire life, every time i thought about having children, from the age i was old enough to comprehend the responsibility of being a parent. the fear that my child will resent me. that my child will hurt because of me, because of my actions. that my child will suffer psychologically and emotionally because of me. every parent makes mistakes, every parent screws up their kid in one way or another. it's part of life. i get that. but i will never, never forgive myself if my child hurts due to negative parental relationships. due to the mental illness of a parent.
god bless my son. and my husband. and my future children. god bless them for loving me in spite of my many failures. and god bless me with the knowledge to change.
i hate this. i really, really, really hate this. i hate the fact that i don't remember what life is like without it. i hate the fact that my depression affects the ones i love so negatively. but most of all, i hate that fact that i feel so helpless about changing it. i have spent at least half of my life trying to figure out how to make it better. there are some things that give me a temporary fix. my art, for one. blogging, for another, also writing in a journal. i reread some of the things i wrote in my journals when i was 12, 13, 14, even 18 and 19, and i am scared. scared for myself, for what i was dealing with, for those around me who had to put up with my volatility.
i am scared for my husband. for my son. for my future children. for myself.
about every two months or so, i lose it. seriously lose it. i battle the depression in some form or another on a daily basis. mostly in the form of self-loathing, self-defeating thoughts and actions. but these "episodes" are much more than being weepy, and down on myself, and losing interest in things i love. they involve screaming, yelling, sobbing hysterically, slamming doors, saying things i don't mean, running away from myself and everyone around me. hiding under my covers from reality. making threats i don't mean and i don't want to follow through with. damaging the most important thing in my life: my relationship with my husband. suicidal thoughts. anxiety. mood swings. all within the space of an hour or two. zero to sixty in about thirty seconds.
and after the episode, i am miserable. i am embarrassed. i am completely ashamed of myself and my actions. and my husband, emotionally battered, bruised, and hurt beyond anything i can comprehend, cries. hugs me. pushes his feelings aside. and goes on with the hurt and fear of my leaving him. and i want to crawl under a rock and die every time i think of it.
i have been in and out of counseling since i was 13 years old. i saw my very first counselor at the ripe old age of 10. put on anti-depressants at 11. i have been on and off medication. many, many, many kinds of it. sometimes there will be a temporary fix. sometimes things get worse. but always it ends up cycling back to the beginning. all progress i have made is lost in the space of two minutes.
i am tired. tired, frustrated, fearful. my life has been riddled with psychological trauma. but my life has also been full of blessings. of loving and supportive family and friends. of every opportunity for medical help. so why, oh why, in spite of all the good i have had, in spite of all of the hard work i have done, does this continue to happen?
the saddest thing? all of the innocent people who have to deal with my insanity. my husband. and my son. oh, my poor son, who has a mother who loves him more than life itself. my son who has a mother that routinely loses every ounce of dignity and sanity she possesses. my beautiful child who will be scarred for life because his mother has a mental illness she cannot deal with.
my greatest fear. the fear i have lived with my entire life, every time i thought about having children, from the age i was old enough to comprehend the responsibility of being a parent. the fear that my child will resent me. that my child will hurt because of me, because of my actions. that my child will suffer psychologically and emotionally because of me. every parent makes mistakes, every parent screws up their kid in one way or another. it's part of life. i get that. but i will never, never forgive myself if my child hurts due to negative parental relationships. due to the mental illness of a parent.
god bless my son. and my husband. and my future children. god bless them for loving me in spite of my many failures. and god bless me with the knowledge to change.
Thursday, September 25, 2008
the picture of my most life-changing experience
i don't know if anyone will really read this. i'm not sure if anyone is actually reading this blog--it is pretty new. but for the last week or so i haven't been able to get this out of my head.
i believe 100% that i am being prompted to write this. i don't know why. i don't know for who. maybe it's just for me. but i decided a very long time ago that if at all possible, i would use this experience to help other people. so, if this helps, then that's wonderful.
as a child (approximately from the age of 6 to the age of 8) i was sexually molested by a close family member. i will not go into detail as that is not my purpose in writing about this. all you need is the background, really: my parents did not become aware of the abuse until i was 13, after an unsuccessful suicide attempt. it was battled in court for almost 6 years, due to a loophole in state law.
i spent my teen years (and even into college) in and out of therapy,battling major issues with depression, my self-esteem, guilt and flashbacks from the abuse. i became aware that my experiences are not uncommon. i was extremely upset by this. i had been through hell, i could not stand to think that so many others would experience what i have. as i went through counseling and saw the HUGE difference it made in every aspect of my life, i decided that i would do everything i could to help others with my experiences. this is not something i talk about a lot. this is not something i will discuss with just anyone. i have found that i have been prompted to share my experiences with some very different people, some i know well and some i do not.
at 18, my senior year of high school, i began seeing a new counselor.she was with lds social services. i had never seen a counselor from ldsss before. my counselor told me of this new program, a class specifically for women who had been through some form of abuse. the class did not concentrate on the abuse itself, but on learning to heal through Christ. so that is how i found myself attending an eight week class with 9 other women. the name of the class is called SOLE:Survivors of Life Experiences.
walking into class the first week, i was extremely apprehensive. i was by far the youngest woman in the class. i have no idea what type of abuse those amazing women had been through--i believe some had dealt with spousal abuse, some parental neglect, others physical, emotional,and sexual abuse. but really, it didn't matter. we were there to support and love each other, to pray for each other, to help each other overcome the struggles we dealt with daily as a direct result of the horror we had each been through.
in the front page of the manual we received was this quote:
"The gospel of Jesus Christ is not insurance against pain. It is a source in the event of pain, and when that pain comes (and it will come, because we came here to earth to have pain among other things),when it comes, rejoice that you have the resource to deal with your pain."
-Carl Broderick
how true this is! life happens. terrible, horrible, unspeakable things happen as a result of the choices of others, and even as a result of living here on earth. but i know that Christ is there to help me heal from my pain, the same as he is for every other person.
over the next few weeks we discussed who we were as children of God.we talked about who He is, how we can find peace in faith and obedience to Him. we discussed forgiveness, repentance, humility, and the application of the atonement in our lives. through the scriptures,talks and stories from apostles and prophets, and each other, we learned how we can endure to the end--with the help of our Savior.
one night stood out to me the very most. each lesson was accompanied by some sort of interactive object lesson. this particular night our counselors set up an obstacle course. they blindfolded us, put us in a dark room, and one by one handed us the end of a rope. this rope was tied to desks, chairs, wound around stacks of books, portable blackboards. the rope went under desks, led us in circles, and at times was tied in so many knots it was difficult to tell where it led.my counselor gave me a little push and i was on my own. completely.slowly and methodically i felt my way forward with my feet. at first i tried using one hand on the rope. this did not work well at all! after a few steps i ended up using both hands. one inch at a time i scooted forward, feeling my way in the darkness. i crawled under desks. i stepped over chairs. once i even had to get on my tummy and scoot under a row of desks--all to keep from losing grip on the rope. after what seemed like forever in darkness, i felt a hand on my shoulder. i was pulled into a tight embrace. my counselor held me for a moment,and in my ear she whispered: "well done, thou good and faithful servant. welcome home." (see Matthew 25:21)
i felt the tears roll down my face. this was it. i knew, the entire time, she was there, watching me. she was helping me and i didn't even know it. the whole time i was wandering in the dark, she had been right by my side, just waiting for me to get to the end, to welcome me home.
and so it is with my Savior. i cannot see him. sometimes i don't even know he is there. and yet, he is right by my side, helping me, cheering for me, crying with me. he loves me. he knows the pain i have gone through, the pain i continue to go through. the nightmares. the flashbacks. the neuroses, the struggles, the temptations, the hurt and anger i have been through. he knows that i still struggle, on an almost daily basis. and he is there weeping for me, and bolstering me up. he believes in me.
"Be patient in afflictions, for thou shalt have many; but endure them, for, lo, I am with thee, even unto the end of thy days" (D&C 24:8). i hope this has helped whomever it is meant for. i am more than willing to talk to anyone who needs someone to listen. someone who has been through something similar--or even not. i will be more than happy to give suggestions of scriptures, talks, quotes, and poems that have helped me get through the worst.
but most importantly: do not forget that you are loved. you are not alone. you can get through this, whatever it may be. be strong. rely on the Lord, he is there for you.
i look forward to the day that i will hear in my ear,
i believe 100% that i am being prompted to write this. i don't know why. i don't know for who. maybe it's just for me. but i decided a very long time ago that if at all possible, i would use this experience to help other people. so, if this helps, then that's wonderful.
as a child (approximately from the age of 6 to the age of 8) i was sexually molested by a close family member. i will not go into detail as that is not my purpose in writing about this. all you need is the background, really: my parents did not become aware of the abuse until i was 13, after an unsuccessful suicide attempt. it was battled in court for almost 6 years, due to a loophole in state law.
i spent my teen years (and even into college) in and out of therapy,battling major issues with depression, my self-esteem, guilt and flashbacks from the abuse. i became aware that my experiences are not uncommon. i was extremely upset by this. i had been through hell, i could not stand to think that so many others would experience what i have. as i went through counseling and saw the HUGE difference it made in every aspect of my life, i decided that i would do everything i could to help others with my experiences. this is not something i talk about a lot. this is not something i will discuss with just anyone. i have found that i have been prompted to share my experiences with some very different people, some i know well and some i do not.
at 18, my senior year of high school, i began seeing a new counselor.she was with lds social services. i had never seen a counselor from ldsss before. my counselor told me of this new program, a class specifically for women who had been through some form of abuse. the class did not concentrate on the abuse itself, but on learning to heal through Christ. so that is how i found myself attending an eight week class with 9 other women. the name of the class is called SOLE:Survivors of Life Experiences.
walking into class the first week, i was extremely apprehensive. i was by far the youngest woman in the class. i have no idea what type of abuse those amazing women had been through--i believe some had dealt with spousal abuse, some parental neglect, others physical, emotional,and sexual abuse. but really, it didn't matter. we were there to support and love each other, to pray for each other, to help each other overcome the struggles we dealt with daily as a direct result of the horror we had each been through.
in the front page of the manual we received was this quote:
"The gospel of Jesus Christ is not insurance against pain. It is a source in the event of pain, and when that pain comes (and it will come, because we came here to earth to have pain among other things),when it comes, rejoice that you have the resource to deal with your pain."
-Carl Broderick
how true this is! life happens. terrible, horrible, unspeakable things happen as a result of the choices of others, and even as a result of living here on earth. but i know that Christ is there to help me heal from my pain, the same as he is for every other person.
over the next few weeks we discussed who we were as children of God.we talked about who He is, how we can find peace in faith and obedience to Him. we discussed forgiveness, repentance, humility, and the application of the atonement in our lives. through the scriptures,talks and stories from apostles and prophets, and each other, we learned how we can endure to the end--with the help of our Savior.
one night stood out to me the very most. each lesson was accompanied by some sort of interactive object lesson. this particular night our counselors set up an obstacle course. they blindfolded us, put us in a dark room, and one by one handed us the end of a rope. this rope was tied to desks, chairs, wound around stacks of books, portable blackboards. the rope went under desks, led us in circles, and at times was tied in so many knots it was difficult to tell where it led.my counselor gave me a little push and i was on my own. completely.slowly and methodically i felt my way forward with my feet. at first i tried using one hand on the rope. this did not work well at all! after a few steps i ended up using both hands. one inch at a time i scooted forward, feeling my way in the darkness. i crawled under desks. i stepped over chairs. once i even had to get on my tummy and scoot under a row of desks--all to keep from losing grip on the rope. after what seemed like forever in darkness, i felt a hand on my shoulder. i was pulled into a tight embrace. my counselor held me for a moment,and in my ear she whispered: "well done, thou good and faithful servant. welcome home." (see Matthew 25:21)
i felt the tears roll down my face. this was it. i knew, the entire time, she was there, watching me. she was helping me and i didn't even know it. the whole time i was wandering in the dark, she had been right by my side, just waiting for me to get to the end, to welcome me home.
and so it is with my Savior. i cannot see him. sometimes i don't even know he is there. and yet, he is right by my side, helping me, cheering for me, crying with me. he loves me. he knows the pain i have gone through, the pain i continue to go through. the nightmares. the flashbacks. the neuroses, the struggles, the temptations, the hurt and anger i have been through. he knows that i still struggle, on an almost daily basis. and he is there weeping for me, and bolstering me up. he believes in me.
"Be patient in afflictions, for thou shalt have many; but endure them, for, lo, I am with thee, even unto the end of thy days" (D&C 24:8). i hope this has helped whomever it is meant for. i am more than willing to talk to anyone who needs someone to listen. someone who has been through something similar--or even not. i will be more than happy to give suggestions of scriptures, talks, quotes, and poems that have helped me get through the worst.
but most importantly: do not forget that you are loved. you are not alone. you can get through this, whatever it may be. be strong. rely on the Lord, he is there for you.
i look forward to the day that i will hear in my ear,
"Well done, thou good and faithful servant; thou hast been faithful over a few things, I will make thee ruler over many things: enter thou into the joy of thy Lord."
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