Dr. D wanted me to think about the dream from May 22, 2017 that we discussed in our session. I went back and highlighted words for us to discuss in our next session. This dream brought up quite a bit.
In the dream I got off an elevator and walked down the hallway to my apartment. As I did I saw a man leaving my apartment with a big box. He'd robbed me. He didn't try to hide his face. He left the door open. The thief took my cat Mary Jane. He took every piece of art I have including off the walls. He took all the stamps I handmade and my tea collection. When I saw that all my art was gone I laid on the bed and cried. He stole my blankets and pillows and left the bed with just a red sheet. He took everything, and got away with it.
Dr. D asked what I think the dream means. I told him it's exactly how I feel right now, robbed and at times powerless. The red sheets are interesting though. It's a power color, primarily positive for me. Even when a person is stripped and knocked down it doesn't mean they are without hope. However, in the dream, I was devastated and felt targeted. The man stole all my art. That hurt so badly. By stealing my art, he stole my voice. The theft felt personal. The brazen, unmasked robber took my comfort and security and he got away with it. (cue mother issues).
Writing about victimization makes me wonder if I feel like a victim in my day-to-day life or powerless? Do I feel exposed, without security? ...continue reading →
Content: Physical pain. Physical torture as a child. Mother and uncle standing in the doorway. Being watched as I shower. Reassuring myself that I'm safe. Robert's session.
When my pain level gets really high I get confused about why I'm in pain. When my eye lids hurt, when it hurts to talk, when I struggle to breathe I forget it Lupus or CRSD. I forget I have a medical condition and feel trapped in the past. Yesterday I lay in bed, just on the sheet, the fan was blowing over me. I had my face buried in the pillow when I became flushed with dread. I expected to look at the door and see my mother standing there. I fully expected her face to become clearer, for her to fill the doorway. I pulled the covers over me and felt more protected. I had to tell myself she can't ever again stand in my doorway. I slept with uneasiness and woke feeling bogged down.
Dr. D asked the question: Can your mother come to your house and get in? Me: No. Dr. D: Can she get in and stand in your doorway? Me. No. Dr. D. Can she ever hurt you again? Me: No.
It's what she left me with that haunts me. I feel her hand from the grave touch my skin and make it crawl. I see her in my head but I try to talk to myself and remind myself that I truly am safe. As far as living family members, as long as I have a cat, no one is coming here.
This spring I was to decide if I could manage a dog which would help me sleep better but I am not able, sadly, I am not able. ...continue reading →
I haven't been to too many blogs lately, not many at all. I'm not in a good spot, easily depressed, easily triggered. I feel like I'm tightening my grip, bringing in the walls around me a little closer so as not to get too overwhelmed. I feel like a fake for smiling and laughing. I'm not a fake, it's just that there are several of us. I feel like a total boob for switching personalities left and right and forgetting to answer the door for a friend. She knocked, I peeked out the hole, looked at her and walked away. It was as if it didn't click that I should let her in. She called me to tell me she was at the door...still.
I can get through this patch.
I'm not even sure if I'm making sense.
Dissociation and anxiety will get worse as the 18th draws near. That's when the apartment manager is coming to do a semi annual cleaning inspection. I don't want to see the woman. I wish I could have someone here with me but I don't have anyone available that day. I will maybe try to have someone on the phone with me when they first get here. I need Jordan to do deal with the manager, just Jordan. ...continue reading →
I told Dr. D that I realize I don't trust as fluidly since my brother died.
There is a sense of betrayal by him because of committing suicide.
I vomited out my heart the day he died.
We talked about getting some old violin so I can write him letters and put notes in there about things I remember we did together, about when he discovered he was HIV positive and when he picked up and left the state, did his thing with music, went to Spain, went back home to New York and died. There's a lot I'd like to write and put inside the heart of those strings.
My favorite instrument is the cello. I'm a strings girl. He was a violinist.
I want to tell him I was at his recital when he was 15. He gave it at the Children's Museum here in Indy.
I want to tell him I'm proud of him for not accepting that a man with large hands can't play the violin. He grew to 6'5. When he began to struggle he hired a man to help him learn to play at his size. He loved the violin and he was bound and determined to play and play well.
Minutes before my phone session with Dr. D I was told by my cab driver that Medicaid won't pay to transport me anymore. Of course I freaked out. I then decided I wouldn't think about this until Monday. Well, as I washed dishes (big issues with water phobia) I did so while going over what the cab driver told me. The gist of it is this: Nothing with my insurance has changed. The cab driver said she got a new contract to transport for a company which is clearly a higher paying transport. For quite some time my insurance only pays for 7 miles and only pay the cab company $10 each way. That has not changed. The only thing that has changed is the contract the cab got. I understand why I'm getting booted, I just wish she hadn't said my insurance won't pay for transportation anymore, and that's exactly what she said. That makes me mad too because she went on and on about how the change has affected so many people. She said, didn't you get a letter about it? Um, no, because you know very well there isn't a letter coming. Nothing has changed except that she made a business decision to take a contract. With this in mind, I have to search high and low to find someone who is willing to take me about 10 miles one way. That won't be easy but that's what I need to do. My insurance still covers transportation.
Dr D will continue to talk to me over the phone until I find a new cab company. I hate that though. Due to health issues, I was only able to get into see him twice a month, the other sessions were over the phone. In our sessions we relied heavily on art. As I drew today it felt pointless, totally pointless!!! Art is how I speak..........
Our professional relationship includes trust, boundaries, honesty and humanity.
It took some time to building a working relationship, but in that relationship he is validating. He also calls me on my crap which is needed. He isn't usually blunt but there are times when he shows irritation followed by a blunt statement. lol....Those statements usually have to do with Betty. lol. Even a reader called me out on the Betty situation.... with one sentence. 🙂 I appreciate that he's going to be human and show irritation or even anger. I don't want a robot for a psychologist. I want a human being and I want to leave him at the office.
Boundaries are a huge thing for me. There was a therapist I had that gave me his home number, the number to his parents house and the number to the phone in his car. I had access to him almost 24 hours a day. That for me isn't good because it also means he has access to me 24 hours day. In fact, he called me one time to tell me to turn on Oprah because Rosanne Bar said she has Multiple Personality Disorder. He told me about his sex life, about his boyfriend. He called me when they broke up. He called me when they fought over the house they had together. He and I had zero boundaries, zero. After that experience I no longer trusted a therapist who wanted to give me their home number. My experience with doctor's crossing boundaries is why I need Dr. D to keep his boundaries and not get so comfortable with me that he forgets to be professional. Other patients and therapists may be able to manage out of office contact and that is just fine. I have nothing negative to say about that. I don't want it because of the horrible experiences I've had. ...continue reading →
My insurance no longer pays for me to take a cab to see Dr. D, whom I've seen for going on 13 years now. My insurance will pay for 7 miles from my home. He's 9.5 miles away. My sessions are over the phone now with the occasional ride from a friend up there. This does not make me happy at all.
We talked about my legal options associated with wrongly being evicted. I've still not heard from the owner who received a letter via mail and a phone call. The owner will hopefully stop this nonsense. It's nonsense and absurd.
I told Dr. D that I'm a single female with no children. I don't qualify for much at all. I make too little money to move elsewhere. I got this apartment because I took over a friend's lease. Apartment complex's want you to make 3x the amount of rent. I make $740 a month in social security. I do not complain about that amount. I worked for it in order to qualify for social security. I'm not complaining about the amount. I pay my bills, my history shows it but that means nothing to apartment complex's. They want you to make 3x the amount.
Today's therapy discussion focused on family matters: mother's thorough brainwashing and effective divisive tactics, scapegoating, emotional boundaries between myself and all birth family and a recap of nightmares from a few days back. After writing this entry I was reminded of the paintings "Resilience Tree," so I included them in the entry.
I was awake all night and until around 10:30 this morning. I had my session to go over the graphically violent and blood dream about cannibals and going to a psychiatric prison for the mentally insane because I was guilty of murdering my child self, the inner child of my sister and the inner child of my brother. I'll pick up more on that topic later.
We talked about the complete lack of protection from my mother: physical, emotional and spiritual responsibilities were ignored or out right withheld.
I was nervous, again. Dr. D said it's normal for a person to feel some anxiety when going to a session, even when they've been in treatment a long time. We talked about the Passion Flower tincture I made and how effective it is. I keep forgetting to take it though. I still scribble to ease anxiety.
We talked about the two dreams and what I think they might mean. I told him that the dream where I was on the outside of the car while my mother and sister were inside reminds me of how I usually felt like an outsider in that family. I hated them for what they did and said. I hated secrets, most of all I didn't keep to the rules of Master and servant the way my sister did. After paying severely for running my mouth one would think I'd learn to keep it closed but nope. Sometimes I was annoyed or out right disgusted by their pretense and let it show on my face or I rolled my eyes and said, "Oh please!" I paid for it. I understand that death in dreams isn't always negative. In this case we all three died after recklessness by my mother. Recently the 'death' of hope that my sister and I will ever be anything other than relatives has settled in. That death means life without hoping in ghosts.
The cab driver forgot me today so I wasn't able to go in and see Dr. D or see my psychiatrist for refills.
We talked about my brother which is discussed at the end. We talked about my self-destructive spirit since the nightmare I had about my mother two weeks back. I couldn't didn't shake it without self harm so we talked in depth with him asking many questions.
What was the trigger?
A nightmare followed by someone calling me a liar and crazy. That word "liar" hits hard.
What specifically was I trying to destroy?
The feeling of humiliation and guilt associated with the nightmare.
What did I try first?
I painted. I walked. I threw darts. I did my yoga stretches. I scribbled and scribbled to the point that I now need to purchase more printer paper. I scribbled a lot because you can't self harm and sketch at the same time.
What emotions did I feel leading up to self harm?
Guilt. Shame. Humiliation. Small. Insignificant. Dirty. Angry. Desperate.
What emotion did I expect to feel during self harm?
I expected to feel motivated to reach the goal of relief. I felt determined. I knew I was falling back on old habits, something I haven't done in over five years.
Did I consider the consequences? Yes.
What emotions did I feel after?
Tired. I slept like a baby!
Do I regret it?
No. I don't see it as a positive but it felt necessary. Someone inside said we felt cornered by our own emotions and memories associated with abuse and we came out fighting...fighting us.
What steps in my head did I take to get to the point where I was able to carry out self harm?
I knew in my head what I wanted to do. I kept it in the back of my mind. Several days went by with this thought. The desire to self harm was discussed in therapy. I WANTED to self harm and so each day not doing it almost felt like I was wearing down my defenses. I know how much paper I went through to direct my attention elsewhere, but the thought of self harm was in my head. I wore down my defenses with time. Maybe it's like a person who stopped smoking or drinking, whatever, and they know in the back of their mind there's the desire to do this drug and they drag out doing it; sometimes rationalizing until the opportunity presents itself in such a way it lets you feel justified.
I felt stagnant. I was just sitting there with a lump of crap on my being. It wasn't moving. It just sat there stinking up my being. I played 2 songs over and over again to push me over the emotional edge so I could self harm.
Is there immediate risk of repeat this behavior?
No. I don't believe so.
We talked over the phone and tears streamed down my face. As I reached for a Kleenex a flash of a woman who had tears like flowers, flashed in my mind. She had no color. I couldn't even see her lips or nose, just a thin black line in the shape of her eyes with daisy flowers pouring out and falling down her face.
I was trying to get myself together and hear him tell me it was a dream and it can't hurt me. I said, my choices were bad. I could choose one bad or the other but no matter what I was going to end up with bad. He said, you're right. I said, I need to remember that I'm 45 years old. I have my own home. I have boundaries and I do not ever have to be in a situation where I feel like her child again. He said, you're right.
I'm ok. I can flip a switch in my head and turn her off. This is my head and the only voices I need to hear are those I want to hear. I have good choices now and I'm ok. It was a dream and dreams can not hurt me. I can turn off her voice with the flip of a switch. ...continue reading →