I stopped apologizing to the family that helped me move. I wanted to apologize for existing, apologize for the amount of dust in the house, apologize for everything. I apologized twice, I think, then told them there would be no more. It’s uncomfortable for others when I over apologize but man I wanted to say it every 5 min just so they knew I realized what I burden I was being. I didn’t because it wasn’t necessary. That family, my friends, were there not out of obligation but because they wanted to be. That feels good ya know? They didn’t have to, they wanted to help.
Archive for the 'Relationships' Category
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I’m more than half way unpacked. While unpacking I haven’t stopped to cook a meal or anything, I’ve just eaten sandwiches and salads. The other night as I sat on the futon and picked out Chinese crunchy noodles, I was reminded of all those nostalgic times with an old girlfriend I used to traveled with. Sometimes we only traveled across town, but across town there’s a really wonderful hotel that serves free cocktails every Thursday evening. She and I checked in Wednesday, closed the curtains to shut the world out then we’d chat until all hours of the evening. We’d sing show tunes in the hot tub, dance in the room and sit down to a candle lit microwave meal and a side salad. Once Thursday evening hit it was Cosmopolitan time for me and several Tom Collins for her. After free booze it was back upstairs for more girl time. We had a blast doing that. For most of nine years she and I found a way to have mini vacations like this. Expensive? Yes, but well worth the bonding time.
There’s a sense of community here that speaks to the part of me that longs to belong to something or someone. Today a neighbor started an impromptu barbeque. Once the smoke traveled others joined in. No invitations went out, it was a given, all are invited.
Someone brought baked beans; I brought a sheet cake, plates and plastic forks. Someone else brought pork chops and another brought hamburgers, another buns. There was beer and Kool-aide. Despite the fact that there was plenty of Budweiser no one was out of control, loud or obnoxious.
It’s quiet here… uber quiet, which isn’t a complaint, just an observation. People come and go during the day but by about 8pm the place is deserted, not a soul in sight. It’s quiet here. I like that.
I’ve slept quite well. My bed is no longer on the floor so that helps quite a bit. It’s a lot more comfortable now. All the fish, plants, tanks and dolls made it without getting broken. There’s a smaller size terrarium that I can’t find but it’s entirely possible that it got put in a box someplace. Even if it’s back at Senior’s house it won’t matter. We somehow moved all those tanks, the fish, the frog and porcelain dolls without breaking them. My two person moving crew rocked!!! My little one Amy was literally in tears of relief and joy because the big tank made it. It was a huge, huge relief!!!!
I’m not ashamed of being a psych patient. I wasn’t in the least bit ashamed to stand outside and speak to the officer, yet again, and tell him that I’m a psych patient and that I spent 5 days in the hospital which is why the first report of criminal harassment was delayed. This is report number two.
See, here’s the thing, just because I’m in therapy it doesn’t mean my voice has any less weight than a person who isn’t in therapy. I can be heard and believed the same as a person who is not in therapy.
While talking to the police officer he didn’t have a funny look on his face when I told him this blog is for the purpose of tracking therapy sessions and therapy issues. He didn’t treat me any differently. Just because I’m a psych patient it doesn’t mean I have to hide and can’t say anything for fear of being labeled “crazy” or for fear that what I say won’t be taken seriously. Welcome to the new world where everybody and “they mama” is in therapy. It’s almost a fad to be in therapy. What, you’re not in therapy, you’re not on medication?
In therapy we talked about feeling as if I’m still holding on by a thread. I still feel frazzled and worn out. I feel as if I’m walking 6 inches above the ground and like it’ll be forever before my feet touch it again. We talked about how the intensity of the situation a few days ago may be over for them but for me Junior’s intensity has caused emotional fall out. I can’t let myself think about if they know I’m still upset or let myself worry about the possible “let it go” remarks. What I know is this, the minute he put his foot in my door I changed!
I called the police yesterday to file a harassment report. When the officer came I explained to him what’s going on. He asked what it is I want to do. I told him what I want is to take the next 45 days to pack my stuff and I want to leave without incident. My lease says I need to give a 45 day written notice, I did that and I’d like to simply pack my stuff and walk out of here without constant harassment. I gave written notice June 15th, 2001. I have 45 days from there. Anyway, she may feel justified in harassing me on the phone, outside my door and on my blog but the truth of the matter is, people are bound by law to behave a certain way.
She’s expressed concern that I’d trash the place when I leave. I laugh at that. I’m sure some people would do that but in all truthfulness if I trashed the place it would hurt her father not her. I’ve stated this several times, as much as the man gets on my nerves I still see him in a very fatherly way. The issue is between me and his children not me and Fife Senior. Why would I trash my area of the house over her? Besides, trashing anything at all takes up more energy than I want to spend on her and it takes a good amount of emotional energy.
I intend to pack my shit at a steady pace. I intend to do therapy twice a week just as I’ve done for a good many years. I plan to do what I’ve done for the last 6 years while living here. I plan to do my dishes and my laundry. I intend to eat, sleep and create art. I plan to mess around in the yard. I will be the same silly, creative and sometimes off balance chick I’ve been for the last 6 years only I’ll do it with no contact from them. I won’t contact them and they won’t contact me. We’re talking 45 days, its not that long, not at all and it seems so easy to simply let me pack my shit and go. Lets hope they can let it happen that easily.
The last thing I’d like to say is this, no matter who is reading or why I intend to write about therapy stuff and general life stuff. That won’t change. As soon as I get a better monitor I’ll be able to write about some of the stuff I worked on while in the hospital. I need to get to the Salvation Army and pick up a monitor. Hopefully I can do that soon cause I want to write this stuff down.
J of A
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