I can guess at why I’m in and out of my head right now with a lot of dissociation going on. There’s a lot going on in therapy, a lot of anxiety and a few days of high pain. I want to get around to read other blogs but it doesn’t happen. I start off doing one task then end up doing something completely different only to realize I left the other project sitting. I feel like I’m floating but I also feel very guarded, weary of being hurt emotionally so I want to keep emotional distance. I can almost see the wall between me and others.
I have to remember that despite jumping from task to task, I am still productive. I reminded myself of this a few minutes ago. Before this sentence I got up to turn on the heat which lead to me in the kitchen to warm up dinner. I would rather be more organized in thought and behavior. I would rather not drift about but, I should not dismiss the fact that I am functioning; fragmented but functioning.
I’m still drawing, still sketching but I haven’t scanned art yet. Jane is doing well and is back to her normal self. All the frogs are good, one shrimp got eaten in the firebelly toad tank. I’m going to take advantage of the dollar per gallon sale at Petco April 2nd, 2007 and upgrade the firebelly toad enclosure. At Petsmart one of the employees told me about an African snail that needs a home. I said no. That was hard!
Someone else will have to help the French speaking people. I can’t do this!!!
I figured out what it is. I have no background in this language, nothing to pull from, no confidence. I’m taking the easy way out, I’m sorry. No more French torture. I have zero confidence that i can learn this language. I’m all uptight looking at the words…..yet….I look at the same material in Spanish and I get it! So I can keep stressing about how much I don’t like the subject matter or I can move on and say, nope didn’t try that hard….don’t lie, I didn’t try that hard with the French lessons and I’m taking the easier way out of Spanish because I get it. I get it! I listen to music in Spanish, read in Spanish but I speak Spanglish. At least I have something to draw from ya know. I have some confidence. I’ve been trying to look at this French stuff and I’m going, I don’t recognize a single thing…..it’s that foreign. I feel for my friends who are learning Russian. … I’m throwing in the towel on French….or the baguette or croissant… I don’t care……..no more French please…….close the book, move on………..
I already know I’m going to regret dropping the French because I could have been more helpful, perhaps more approachable in that field but I find French too difficult for me to master at this time. I’m going to regret this…….. I can’t quit……..argh!!!!!!!!!!! (throws minor temper tantrum)
Basically, I’ve failed at this point, however, I shall start again. September will bring a new ‘service year’ and I will be ready to fully commit to this language.
I’ve fallen behind on my studies. I’m struggling with French because I simply don’t like the language. We have a lot of people from French speaking African countries in this area. It’s just that I can’t seem to put my heart into it. I think maybe I need to understand that it’s not about me but about helping others and so my attitude about the language may need to be re-examined.
In a way it could be beautiful because its the language of my grandfather’s country. I felt my head get dizzy when I said that.
I could have chosen a number of other languages. It’s funny, German has always, always been a language close to my heart. That too is a language in my family, on both sides. When I hear that language my heart wakes up yet, there is no true need in that field in my area. There are no German speaking individuals who have moved here seeking refuge from whatever they have suffered.
I woke today around 6 am. I watched a video on my tablet about King Hezekiah. Love that video. I held the tablet in one hand while Mary Jane placed herself in front of it and on my chest. I started listening only. She moved to my cheek and neck, stretched out and took her place to sleep. I couldn’t deny that closeness, body pain or not I loved every single second of it.
We laid there for a while with her sleeping. Right now she’s taken her regular spot behind me when I’m on the computer. The girl is the best companion I could have. 🙂 She has her days where its clear she doesn’t feel well because of the dental stuff but there are also times when she’s her normal cuddly self who will later get into trouble and thoroughly love it.
I talked to Snow about how I’m still feeling. It has to be hard to hear me say I want to cut my arms to shreds, cut my thighs to shreds, just cut and keep cutting. I’m angry and I’m pretty tired.
I fell asleep around 6pm and woke at 9 on the dot. That’s the sleep I’ve had. My mind isn’t racing, I don’t feel weighed down yet I’m awake. Snow comes here tomorrow.
While I don’t really feel depressed, there is restless anger just below the surface. It’s personal, not related to world events.
The dream I woke from had me struggling to climb the stairs in an outdoor sports arena. The stairs kept falling in right after releasing my foot. I barely made it to the next step. While I went up with great difficulty, my sister moved with ease past me and down to the bottom row to her seat.
I wish I could wash out the feeling I have in my stomach.
I was awake until 9 am then got up and got ready for therapy. It reminded me of my college years where I had severe insomnia but I could get up, shower, get dressed, eat and be out of the house in a very short period of time.
It was an odd day. The weather is beautiful. On the way I talked to my cab driver who has been taking me for about a year now. I really like her. Today on our way to therapy we got rear ended. I was wearing my seat belt but I didn’t have on my back brace. It was quite a jarring we got. My pain level sky rocketed making me sway, swoon almost in this rocking, sea sick kind of way. I was trying to gather myself so I didn’t throw up. I needed to get my pain down very quickly so for the first time in about a month I took half a pain pill. It helped for a bit. I started doing small pelvic movements to get fluids in that area to ease the pain. The movement is so small, in the car it wasn’t obvious to the driver.
I got to therapy and began reading the journal entries to Dr. D about suicidal ideation. Again my pain skyrocketed. For the first time in his career and the first time in therapy I got on the floor and did a few yoga stretches to relieve my back. it helped a good bit. I kept my shoes off.
People ask all the time, “How are you?” I say, I’m trying to manage. No hugs are shared. At that time I may not be in so much pain I can’t be touched but I still decline a hug. the truth is, i’m not okay. hardly ever am i okay.
as i write this i do so with my eyes closed so as not to see the words and judge them harshly before i can finish my sentence. i’m just letting it go, nothing to stop me, not even myself. at the end i’ll correct spelling and that’s all.
i was told that February is suicide awareness month. how strange to think of my existence in the last few months boiling into February with pain i didn’t think i’d live through. i honestly didn’t think my body was able to live through it, and if it did would i actually have the …the whatever, to lift myself of the bed and go back to life as usual? this isn’t usual, nor is it survivable. it feels as though it chips away at me, like i’m being eaten alive by fire ants. i’m watching them chew on nerve endings and there’s nothing i can do about it. that’s the easy part of this disease and its progression. the hard part is when the pain calms down and i look back at torn flesh and know i’m going to do it again and again and again. no, i’m not ok. i’m not ok at all.
My phone rang at 1:15. I opened my eyes and answered. I’d been awake from around 5:30 pm Sunday until 10 am this morning so I was very much in need of sleep. There was a small cracker gaffe. As we talked I reached over and grabbed a cracker and shoved the little round Ritz in my mouth while talking. I started laughing because it was like, my body was in the moment but my mind was not. I apologized for the crunch in his ear, which he found humorous.
3:30 pm EST
I asked him if he remembered something he and I were to keep discussing. He said he’d make a note to remember to ask two sessions ago. He didn’t remember. I said, when you say to me, “we can work on this issue” I don’t have confidence that we will. You’ve said this to me several times but it’s not brought up again. He said, why do you think you haven’t brought it up again? That’s when I realized, he expects me to bring up the things he tells me we can work on. With that point now clear I said to him, I need a prompt because the subjects are scary for me. I also want you to bring it up because I want to know that you are committed to the issue and will assist me with it. For a long time now I’ve heard him say, “we can work on that” or “we can talk more about this next week” but it doesn’t happen. I want to know we’re on the same page. I want to know that you understand the importance of these two issues.
I turned off the comments to the other entry about water because I didn’t want anyone to say “good job”. My reaction would be to toss this whole thing and refuse to work on it as if the issue is mine and mine alone and ‘you’ can’t have a say in how it goes.
In the split second it took to turn off comments i thought, I don’t have to have water touch me if I don’t want to. ‘You” can’t tell me I have to get wet…….. and there it was….back in Florida, back in Tampa.
I think to myself, I hate you and you deserve to be dead. I really hate you.
With a topic so sensitive I’m going to keep comments off. I’m walking on thin ice. Yeah, cleaning burned mango and apple from a ban brings back anger and humiliation.
Good info for art and phobia. I would like to take it in to see what my therapist thinks and see if there’s a way to incorporate some of it into our work. I’m not going to post the art though. I can’t imagine posting it right now. Altered Book Facing Fears by Tracy Algar.
I had a minor drop in mood before doing the pan, shed a few tears and then started the process of adding bottled lemon juice and baking soda to the pot.
I thought I would just let it sit there until tomorrow so I decided I had to at least have some sort of water contact so I did a foot soak. I ended up with a cut the other day that I hadn’t noticed so I added Oregano essential oil to the water. I pulled a bench seat up to me and ate a snack of apples and cashew butter. After the snack I put a little more oil on and put on my socks. I went in the kitchen, put a wooden spatula in the pot and the burnt offering came off leaving a nice little shine.