I did not see Karen yesterday. Or last Saturday. I have an appt. for this coming Saturday. Karen had said, “Use your skills.” And she said that when I want to e-mail her, to call a friend instead. Yeah, that works when I work second shift and generally only can call a friend after midnight, and my friends work during the day, so that doesn’t work at all. I could e-mail a friend. Ah well.
Well, I was feeling so bad about everything, that I considered changing therapists, to the point that I actually called some lady in Conneaut. This was the week before last. But she got back to me and said she no longer has a license, so she is only seeing people as friends. Even I know you can’t buy friends so I decided that is probably not a good situation for me.
So I was having all these thoughts, obsessing, about how Karen doesn’t want to work with me anymore, doesn’t like me, thinks I should be done by now, doesn’t understand at all, and so forth, and I switched the whole mess of thoughts to using Saturday to clean my kitchen first, and then the rest of my house. Using the Saturdays I am not there, to work in my kennels and house. Believe it or not, that worked for the most part. I was able to thing about my plan for cleaning, fixing, doing, whenever the thoughts of therapy came up. Usually these appts. are in the middle of the day, so I get up like I get up for work, and rush out the door for the appt. and then afterwards I am wiped out, and don’t do mouch of anything the rest of the day.
So Saturday came. I slept in until 3:30, procrastinated until about 5 and then spend hours working in the kennels. I did nothing in the kitchen. I had been excited about it not because I like cleaning, but I do like having it clean. So, I planned to fix a few things during the week and hoped I could get started with it during the week, but that didn’t happen either. So, yesterday, I went and got dog food and brought the baby puppy with me who hasn’t been anywhere yet, though she if five -six months old. Good outing and I stopped at my parents’ house to let them see her too. Then I went home and found my dining room table — Kitchen/Dining room are really like one room. I cleaned off the table and through a lot out, and separated bills and tax stuff from trash, and found my floor.
I did not get a dish washed, but I got it ready for a dish-washing marathon. This is really bad, but I threw out 3.5 garbage bags of mostly trash. My kitchen already looks so much better. I cleaned out the cupboard and put away the new cans and jars. I washed the top of the microwave and toaster and well, I got a lot done yesterday and I feel a lot better having done that.
I am journaling too. And reading. I finished the book on Ravensbruck, but I also finished Shogun, and a few Father Koessler mysteries, and I am reading this book I absolutely hated the first time I tried to read it. It is by a Christian Phsychologist, Dr. Anders&(), not sure of the name but it is called Healing for the Wounded Heart I think. And now I am getting stuff out of it. It is funny that I can read a book a year or so later and get so much more out of it.
This one has a section on ambivalence, and how we are longing for, desiring things, love, connection, relationship, and at the same time feeling ashamed and disgusted with ourselves for having those needs/wants. I am going back and reading again the other stuff about how our history makes us powerless, and what the effects of that are, and how it plays out. Ambivalence was the third thing, the second was betrayal I think. It’s funny how our brains work. How we can read and get something totally different out of something depending where we currently are.
Anyway, I am practicing self-care, sleeping more, taking my meds most of the time, working on puzzle books, journaling, playing instruments, and even some coloring when the fit seizes me. My sister says she never could figure out how coloring works to reduce stress. I think it is the mindfulness of it. I have this giant book, color by number, that has these tiny sections — geometrical shapes, and I have the colored pencils lined up in order, and a magnifying glass and with one hand holding the magnifying glass, the other coloring, it uses my whole mind.
I am still mad as a hornet at Karen. I’m trapped. If I report that I survived the three weeks, then “see, I really don’t need to come as often.” If I report that I struggled and became more depressed and more frantic, and more irritable, then “see, we need for you to be less dependent.” So it sucks. It is like I am trying to swim to the shore from way out in the ocean, and she has an innertube on a string, and every time I get close to it, she reels it in farther and yells, “Swim!!!” I’m out there floundering wondering if she understands that I need to rest, I’m exhausted, cold, wet, half-naked, and not so sure I even want to get to the shore. This book says depression is the place between pressing on toward change, and loss of hope. I am there. But cleaning in my kitchen HAS helped.
I don’t know if I want to admit that to her though. Because I am frustrated and angry. Why do I find it so easy to be angry with Karen, and so hard to be angry with my brothers or mother or father or others that have more responsibility than Karen has in this? I do believe that my pattern of getting too attached and obsessing about the therapy and the therapeutic relationship happens to distract me from working on other things.
The thing is, folks are affected by this stuff with different symptoms. Some become borderline or bi-polar. Maybe they are born that way, but this stuff makes it worse. Some become homosexual or promiscuous or avoid all sexual activity. Some get messed up with drugs or alcohol addiction. Many of us are overweight and often do not do the best job of taking care of ourselves. Some have PTSD and or depression to the point where they cannot hold down a job. Some have anger management issues, some abuse others, others end up in prison for one reason or another. Often we have trouble with finances.
Well, I am high-functioning, in that I can go to work everyday. I haven’t had to be hospitalized yet. I am not addicted to drugs or alcohol, but I am morbidly obese. Got to love that word. It is as ugly as incest. Obese. And, while I am not a hoarder in that I have no trouble attaching to meaningless things, I am a slob, and the more depressed I get, the less work I do in my house, and the worse that gets to looking the more depressed I am. It’s a vicious spiral. And what with losing the dogs and the long illness, and trying to work on this stuff, losing the jobs and trying not to lose this one, I’ve been really depressed, and my house has really been bad. On top of that, I am terrible with my finances, and the house is falling down, I got screwed by my contractor, so the roof is still leaking, which is causing damage, my aeration tank motor died under warranty, but the company went belly up. The guys came and removed it, but haven’t come to replace it yet, and I am not calling because I don’t know where the money will come from. I am putting dog food and propane on my mom’s discover and she can’t carry me like that. So I am out of propane, I owe my mom my ass and the ceiling is falling in. We took woodwork down when we ran a new wire because the wire was sparking and going to burn my house down, and that has not been replaced, and it is all so over-whelming.
The dogs too, I got most of the kennels cleaned out from winter, snow, ice, wood chips, straw, leaves from last fall. But I have the two biggest that each have two dogs in them to do — one is half-done. And grooming, I am behind. Babsy needs a bath and toenails, but I am afraid to lift her into the tub because the last time I lifted her, she lost her back end for a few days. Odie and Ramona, Cujo and Hepsi all have these Herko-type coats that are just labor intensive and if you let them get away from you… And in the winter it is hard not to let them get away from you.
The big symptom I have is the deep desire for connection, love, being liked, being wanted, feeling like I belong, and never being able to feel any of that because I feel ashamed or frightened of those feelings/desires/needs. And that little bit of me that says, “Hey, this horrible thing happened, it wasn’t my fault, someone should fix it for me, be understanding, be nice to me, fix my life.” It absolutely SUCKS that I have to do ALL of it. Ok, I know my brothers are not going to swoop down out of no where and say, “hey we know we fucked up your life, and caused you a lot of trouble, so we’re each going to float you $500/month until you can get back together.” But it is hard that there are no groups available yet, and that Karen wants to push me to less help.
I don’t speak of it much, the longing for connection, for being loved, for feeling that I am loveable and likeable, is so strong, and the opposing force of not deserving that, being ashamed of wanting that, is all so hopeless that too often I think there is only one way out of it. Sometimes having my folks and my nieces and my dogs are not enough to bring me out of these stupid thoughts. I know, I know use my skills. But I am floundering in that ocean, and my skills seem to be as far away as that innertube, and less helpful. I am not going to e-mail Karen though. She did not respond when I PMd her that I put Quinnie down. E-mailing her just sets me up to feel even more defeated. The act of typing things out helps, so journaling is helpful to me, but it only is real if it is read.
Ah well, it is raining and Rainy Days and Mondays always get me down. I need to go home and feed my dogs and wash my dishes. I will feel better once they are done.