Archive for the 'Therapy' Category

In the Hospital for SLE and Fibromyalgia

Published on February 10, 2012 in Art Therapy, Medical and PTSD. 0 Comments

On Friday I went to an art opening with a friend and it was fantastic. I didn’t want to go at all and started to cancel because my pain level was at a 9 and rising. Despite that I went and I’m happy I did. What happened later was that I ended up in the ER because the pain level hit a 10 and I simply could not take it. I said weeks ago that I’d considered going to the ER but didn’t, this time I did. When I got there they looked at my records and asked a few simple questions. They asked how I usually manged my pain. I answered honestly then told them that my usual method wasn’t managing this flare up. He asked when the last time it was I came in for a “cocktail” and I told him it had been awhile. According to my records it was 2 years ago.

No social workers showed up and no questions about my mental health were posed. They asked one major question: What can we do to help you? I asked for a one time cocktail that would relieve the pain enough that I could manage it again. With that I was given a shot of Morphine, Demerol an injection of Prednisone. They then had me swallow two pills for nausea and gave me two percocets. This cocktail could knock out a horse but I was wide awake the whole time.

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Inspired Love List

Published on February 2, 2012 in Emotions, For the Record, Letters Home, PTSD and Trust. 2 Comments Tags: , , .

I ran into a journal entry called Love List on the blog MotherLovely. For those of us with serious mother issues read the title again. It does NOT say motherly love, it says mother lovely. Anywhooo, the entry talks about looking around your house and noting things you love about your home. I like her idea for a number of reasons but for my purposes I’d like to change the angle a little bit and direct it to PTSD. She listed things in her home that she loves but I’d like to list things in my home that make me feel safe, secure, comforted and grounded.

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This Year’s Independence Day

Published on February 2, 2012 in Art, Gratitude Journal and Letters Home. 0 Comments Tags: .

It’s that time again. I turn 20 years free this year.

For this Independence Day I’m going to go to an aquarium exhibit as well as check out a few sales at Hobby Lobby and Micheal’s. Then on Friday I’m going to an art opening by an artist who is taking part in the Fringe Festival here in town.

Each year I have the same breakfast I had when I left home. Since I left and went to a hotel I ate there and had a breakfast of waffles, peaches and whipped cream. Lunch was quiche and salmon. I don’t quite remember what I did for dinner. I don’t know why but I don’t remember, anyway though, the other two meals are part of my Independence Day tradition.

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Black for Dummies

Published on February 1, 2012 in Abuse, Anger, Art Therapy, Emotional abuse, Emotions, Female Sadist, Letters Home, Secrets and Confessions and Trust. 0 Comments Tags: .

This entry is a follow up to the pink dryer entry . This handwritten entry goes into detail about how difficult it was to feel as if I belonged anywhere or was seen as anything but an object of derision.

The very first art piece shows a three headed child with the caption, “You can be anyone except who you really are.” This art therapy piece will make more sense if the pages are read concerning being black and how I was told to be an example for others. The example I was to set was insane and rather stupid thus the title, Black for Dummies.

My therapist and I spent a good amount of time talking how during this writing I stumbled upon the understanding that my sister should not be seen as weak for how she handled the abuse. Continue reading ‘Black for Dummies’

Pink dryer and a house under my foot

Published on February 1, 2012 in Abuse, Anger, Art Therapy, Emotional abuse, Emotions, Female Sadist and Letters Home. 0 Comments Tags: .

This handwritten journal entry came about when I discovered why I’d been so triggered lately. About a year ago I got dreadlocks, then I discovered its not as easy a hair style at I thought it would be. I have to twist and re-twist as well as sit under my GE tabletop dryer to speed the take of the lock. Doing this reminded me of all the times my mother took me to the hair dresser. I wish I could say it was a pleasant memory but it wasn’t. In order to deal with the triggers I drew a picture of me sitting under the dryer. I did this WHILE I was under the dryer which means I was drawing myself drying my hair.

One of the things about the picture is that the dryer is shown as pink. It’s not. It’s a tabletop GE Dryer in white like the photo shows.

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The Rules of War and Peace

Published on January 28, 2012 in Anxiety, Borderline Personality Disorder, Emotions, Fear, Letters Home, Relationships and Secrets and Confessions. 3 Comments Tags: , .

The very first thing I do when there’s a new relationship is think to myself: how can I get out of this? Where is my exit?

I need to feel in control by serving. That sounds so strange but really, if I provide everything….food, comfort, clean clothing, a clean house, affection, etc, etc am I not in control? It’s also a set up because when things go south trust me, you’ll hear about how I did everything and got treated like shit. I cooked, cleaned, kept that house running and still got treated like shit. It’s a set up. I’m telling you, I’m not the person to go out with. I go in looking for a way out and I go in setting you up to fail!

At this time I’m not capable of truly loving you but I am capable of being co-dependent.

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Smoke and Mirrors

Published on January 27, 2012 in Anger, Anxiety, Art Therapy, Dehumanize, Emotions, Fear, Female Sadist and PTSD. 0 Comments

After writing my last entry and quoting my mother as saying, “Would Mommy approve?” I got a bit irritated (?) so I ended up working off that emotion by writing.

My mother refused to allow us to call her anything but mommy or by her nickname given to her by my father. As an older teen I hated calling her mommy. As I type the word my nose is turned up like it’s the most disgusting word in the world. It feels as if she kept me “little” by using that word. Oh man I can’t explain how disgusted I am by that word. It’s just that she forced it. We had to call her that and she would tell people we called her that. My girls are such and such of age and still call me mommy. Of course we did, it was a requirement. It was a requirement the same as saying Yes Ma’am and No Ma’am. I have no objection to using those terms of respect. As a matter of fact I still say them, it’s just that hearing myself say it to her makes me sick.

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