Ocean of Self-Doubt

I'm drowning in a sea of doubt.

Self-doubt, in so many flavors, quantities, depths, and frequencies . . .

There is SO much that I am trying to . . . . hmm. I can't figure it out but that leads to something important . . .

It's not as simple as just banishing it, or just simply believing in one's self. I wish it was, and I wish I could . . . .

I had one appointment recently where I discussed the doubting/floundering, the not being able to gain a footing, or not being able to find solid ground . . . .

There is SO MUCH about me that I despise, loathe, and HATE with a hurt that is so deep it defies my ability to describe . . .

That all ties into some things I found out in July, thru the "friend" who was the one who hooked me up with the mental help and mental health providers, and helped my previous Bishop understand some of the issues regarding.

Well, have you ever heard the term, "A little knowledge, can be dangerous"? Just because she is involved with NAMI alot and has a daughter with mental health issues, does NOT mean she is qualified to make all the judgements that she fed back to my iatrist, in July, the day after I called her, sobbing, that I was terrified to go see him and didn't know how I could. I had called him earlier that afternoon, and he was HORRID. I was calling her as a FRIEND, who happens to relate to this iatrist, not really socially, but kind of; she's got him on the board of a mental health center they're trying to get placed in Davis County, as well as he was her daughter's iatrist, and they are probably somewhere between acquaintances and friends, outside of the consumer/provider relationship, or the consumer's parent/provider relationship.

So, I was a wounded puppy, turning to a friend. The next day . . . well, what she did was kick this wounded puppy viciously as hard and violently as she could, with what she did to me, how she did it, and the content thereof. Even WITHOUT the content of what she did, her calling him in the attitude/orientation/intentions that she did, was what ANYONE would call stabbing someone in the back . . . .

As my (now) former iatrist related some of what she had said, I was in shock; very incredulous, and disbelieving, first, that a friend could do this to me, second, that SHE, knowing how difficult it is for the mentally ill to function, could and WOULD do THIS to me, THIRD, that she would make so many judgements, or even any of them, harsh ones, based on a year where we BARELY saw each other every 3-5 months, for a few minutes at a time. Based on her NOT seeing me, NOT seeing me doing things she thought I should be doing (where does SHE get off . . .

Autism Bill Passes House & Senate

Now, it goes to the President to sign before the Holiday Recess.

Combat Autism.org

A quote from the above site:

The bill authorizes nearly 1 billion dollars over the next five years to combat autism through research, screening, early detection and early intervention. The new legislation will increase federal spending on autism by at least 50 percent. It includes provisions relating to the diagnosis and treatment of persons with Autism Spectrum Disorders, and expands and intensifies biomedical research on autism, including an essential focus on possible environmental causes. Autism is now diagnosed in 1 in 166 children according to the Centers for Disease Control.

Read the bottom two of the three paragraphs at the following link.

WPLN.org news transcript

YES!!!!

This means that insurance coverage for services for my daughter, may be covered, or should be to some extent, I guess we'll see how it all gets sorted out . . . .

ONE BILLION DOLLARS over the next five years . . . . YAY!!!!!

Yes, I know there's many ailments and health issues that need money, attention, funding, research, etc., but autism has been neglected/ignored for FAR too long in these and other areas.

YAHOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!

EEEeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee~

YIKES!~

Okay, so I'm in bed all day, sleeping cause I'm depressed and also the gabapentin makes me tired.

The doorbell rings, I send my daughter to get it. It's my bishop! So she lets him in, and comes back to get me, and I'm starting to get dressed, and she says loudly to him from down the hall, "She just has to get dressed!" I'm SO embarrassed!

Great, so my bishop is standing 12 feet away and knows I'm in a state of undress. GREAT. VERY embarrassing. Not so embarrassing tell you guys cause you guys are alot farther away than that!

Oh, and this man is the CEO of a company!!! Also, was standing there in my HORRIDLY MESSY livingroom, with views of my HORRIDLY MESSY kitchen and hallway, too.

I mean REALLY BAD.

And here he is, in his really nice suit, on his way home from work, in my house, which probably doesn't smell so great . . .

I did let him know that the judge decided I was obviously disabled and stuff. And that it'll be up to 60 days before I hear back on what money I get, if any. He said he wants me to keep him updated on that.

I am SO EMBARRASSED, though. What about the above incident in any aspect of it ISN'T completely embarrassing? He probably HEARD me getting dressed, too.

Turmoil, Yeasts, & Easy Recipes

Well, I've got alot of it. Which is why, these last months, even this last YEAR, to a lesser degree, I've been a bit more untethered and sometimes directionless.

I'm still here, though, but it's taking all my effort just to hold on; not really gaining any ground these last few months, in therapy either. I wonder if that frustrates my therapist . . .

He did ask me a question out of the blue last Tuesday that seemed to want to try to address the overwhelming sadness and lack of well it's hard to put words to . . .

Anyway, I'm having a REALLY HARD TIME since about September; there's been HUGE changes and events going on, and I feel like I'm being tumbled, washing-machine-like, in the downward pressure at the bottom of a waterfall or heavy rapids, like sometimes happens.

On a completely different note, I'm going to attempt an easy recipe from scratch, altho it really needs quick-rise yeast and all I have is regular active dry. I'll punch it and let it rest s'more, like double or triple (the recipe says just 10 mins, it's kind of a batter dough, so I'm really not sure how to adjust, aside from dissolving this active dry yeast in 105-115 liquid first, before mixing w/ingredients and lengthening the rest. Not sure there'll be much to "punch" either . . .)

I saw, in an ad in the Quick & Simple $1.59 magazine that I've recently discovered in the checkout aisles at the grocery store, an ad for www.fleischmanns1dish.com.

The ad had one of the recipes. I went there and liked what i saw, easy and simple batter-type doughs, extremely sticky and such, with things placed atop after the resting period. I'm going to try the 1-Dish Chicken Enchilada, as I have some pre-cooked chicken cut-up in the freezer.

It IS a good sign of fighting the depression on the rare occasions when I cook anymore; heck, just heating something in the microwave is a victory and an outof-the-ordinary occurrence. So this one is WAY unusual, of late, especially in recent months.

Guess we'll see how it turns out.

Oh hey, another cooking site I just discovered, that is SIMPLE, and practical, is The Practical Pantry.com

Hasta la Vista, Iatrist!

I told him mebbe I'd start to look for a shrink in January, and he started to rip into me. I was like WTH? Cause one of the options he said in his letter was having gp maintain meds. Which, I know isn't an option long-term, or even medium-term. I mention this, and he's like noooooo. He says I need a shrink. Well, yeah, I knew that. So then I tell him I was thinking about January, maybe, to start looking, and he's like noooooo. Look now. He gets all ruffled about how this is why he sent out his letters two months ago, so early, so his patients would have someone lined up, and how it often is 2-3 months before a shrink can work you into his schedule, as a new patient or whatnot.

It's not my fault I couldn't read his mind. Besides, I don't know that I'm up for looking for a shrink right now, anyway. It's not like this one has been there for me; I've had to have my GP write prescriptions most of the time lately anyway, since I've not been able to get ahold of my shrink; even when I DID get ahold of him, it was really only the secretary. I hated all the back and forth thru the secretary to discuss an urgent matter with him. I'll be asking potential shrinks if that's how they do things as a matter of course, too. UGH.

Anyway. I am now shrinkless. That sounds funny . . . .

Up Yours Meds

Ok, so the title isn't THAT funny.

I hadta try, anyway, but sometimes (often?) I'm scraping the bottom of the barrel.

So, I thought it prudent to call my iatrist yesterday about upping my Neurontin from 1200mg to 1600mg, like we did in the spring when I was going through something.

I've been all over the place and far less able to rein myself in emotionally and in other ways, since the hearing.

From mid-September onward, I've had aLOT of intense and difficult things and changes happen and to plan and face fears and endure and be forced, by events, to keep coming back to.

So the logical side of me said, HEY, lookit you the past 10-12 days; I think, given what you see over that course of time, that I'd better call the iatrist.

Anyway, so we upped my meds. He had to change my appt. next week from Tues. to Friday. I don't know how I'm going to get there as dh works then.

See, with him closing his private practice December 1, he's only seeing patients two days a week now, and only in the afternoons on Thursdays and Fridays. He's also moved his office to Bountiful, but it's right on the border with Centerville.

Technically, I could walk, I think it's only a coupla miles or less, altho that is a long walk. And I haven't been there before, which is a HUGE issue.

I could take a bus, but there are alot of issues with that as well, so I don't think I can do that right now.

TOO MUCH CHANGE! Yeah, I know that's life.

I have been spending most of my time in bed, sleeping or trying to, with a bit of TV and computer thrown in. I just . . . well, I know I'm emotionally reacting to everything that's been going on, but it's hard to stop and think and pin things down, because it's a torrent of stuff. Rather overwhelming. So at least resting alot is sort of one way of taking care of myself right now and acknowledging I'm dealing with some intense things. Although it's also a retreat/withdrawal mechanism; but moreso, it's a safety issue, because I feel safe there, in/on this bed cuddled up in the perfect holey blanket and with my body pillow. It's a retreat from the incessant downpour of stuff that just won't let up for/on me. It's also a recharging, sometimes when it's done in a more positive, proactive way to keep from using myself up too much too fast; pushing too hard, over the edge; when I relax and let go and just let myself rest and take care of myself like that, because I can feel that I'm approaching an edge where if I do too much, I could end up collapsing emotionally and other ways, and be in bed for a month or more.

So, sometimes, when it's proactive for certain reasons, I suppose it's more positive than just retreating/withdrawing because I just can't cope.

At the same time, I'm not going to give up this just can't cope/retreat coping mechanism right now, as I need SOMETHING to help me get through, when everything seems too much; the longer I'm in therapy, the more I'll learn ways of dealing with things, the more things will internalize and I'll be stronger and not need so much to just withdraw. For now, it's what I do sometimes, for a variety of reasons.

The proactive thing, is actually not nearly as often being in bed all day or so much, as the other reasons are. The proactive thing often involves a couple days relaxing on the couch, watching shows that peak my interest or seem to fill a void for a time or touch me in some way . . . also CRAFTING, either stamping, or, more often when on the couch, BEADING/jewelry making/working with sterling wire and chain, too. Gemstones, I lerv em, too!

Anyway, there's a variety of things. I know I need to let myself react, alot of which is on a subconscious, not consciously thought or worked through level, but I can FEEL in my BODY and sort of the cogs and gears of my being-ness that there's a processing or a working on realizing and really feeling what's been going on, so I can more consciously get to work on it, when I've let myself react and sort of take in, subconsciously and consciously, what's happened to me.

I can't rush it, it just goes as it goes; takes its own pace.

Wow, I've rambled today. Lots going on.

I'm going to be sleepier, sometimes irresistably so, on the higher dose, but that's ok.

Seize ya later! (Yum, the scent of this wassail candle is just making me feel like I'm DRINKING a hot, but not burning hot, satisfying mug of yummy spicy goodness!)

Now you, too can be pathetic!

Get yer very own, run down, self-described (by Urban Outfitters), "Charlie Brown Pathetic Tree"! (emphasis added)

Nothing says it's Christmas quite like a depressing reminder of not feeling quite good enough. Check out the ornament which strains the tree's very ability to cope with all the stress that is the holiday season. Built in is the ability to create the appearance of even more desperate patheticness, as described in this quote from Urban Outfitters: "The bendable branches allow you to make it look just how you want, super pathetic or just kind of pathetic."

Okay, so I had to write my own copy for this poor tree. It's actually just a humble little thing, although it seems kinda sad to commercialize the humble aspect of this Charlie Brown Christmas story. Whenever we've gone to a Christmas Tree lot, we can always point out the ones we call Charlie Brown trees, anyway.

You're Putting WHAT in My Brain?

Vagus Nerve Stimulation.

Coming soon, to a depression treatment options list near you.

Apparently it was just approved for use in depressed people; apparently it has also been used for years in seizure patients.

It targets the mood center of the brain.

You have a remote control that communicates with it; I guess the signal will go through your skin and whatnot to the device in the back of your neck that is connected to the Vagus Nerve.

Sounds kinda scary. It's good to have more options for treatment-resistant depression, but I can see the late-night comedians riffing on this one already . . .

A Friend Knows the Song in Your Heart . . .

And sings it back to you when you've forgotten it. 

 Now, the therapeutic relationship isn't a friendship, per se; it's a rather unusual thing. Various approximations can be used to describe it - a professional friendship, confidante, approximate relationship, therapist (of course, that one is not an approximation), and other things. When I say it's not a friendship, it is because, of course, outside the office you don't socialize, etc. 

 Inside the office, you interact on a deep and personal level, at least, from the patient's side of things, although the therapist also is giving of themselves to help you see yourself and learn and grow and figure things out and such. 

 After such a long time working together, I know that he DOES care for my well being, although I'm not saying there's anything inappropriate. If he didn't care about his patients' progress, well being, and such, he wouldn't be doing (or at least, wouldn't be doing so well) what it is that he does . . . SO, with all that said, the term professional friendship kind of covers alot of the therapeutic relationship . . . obviously there are alot of boundaries, as is appropriate. 

 He reminded me, yesterday, that I am a person of great faith. I tend to want to feel bad for my horrid reactions yesterday, but at the same time I know that I MUST LET MYSELF FEEL and REACT to what I experience; trying to deny that is like trying to deny the Titanic didn't just strike an iceberg. I struck my own iceberg, and had and still have reactions to that. It's fine! I, and everyone else, are emotional beings. 

So, I know that the Lord knows what he's doing. That's great! 

 I don't know what He's doing, though. It's a good thing He does . . . lol! 

 With all that said, that doesn't make my experience any less difficult or any less painful, turbulent, and unstable. I feel extremely unstable. I discussed all this with my ologist yesterday, as well as I'm going to talk with him later over the phone for a bit; yesterday's session was . . . well there was much to cause a high level of worry in it, on his part.  

So o o o o ooooo . . . The Lord is at the helm, but I'm still seasick. That about sums it up. Very seasick. Don't you just love my analogies? Lol. Anyone have some airsickness bags handy? hee hee. 

 Yes, I sound rather chipper now, but that's actually just a sign of how volatile I am right now. Up, down, sideways, slantways (dontcha' just love Wonka's glass elevator!), every-which-ways. 

 No wonder I'm seasick (metaphorically speaking). I hope I don't bawl my eyes out at dd's baptism later this week! Cause I'll have both my families there, and that never happens, and that's alot of love and support in one place. Yes, I know the baptism is about her, but I can't help it that I'm going through one of the hardest things I've ever faced, right now. So, I'm looking forward to seeing friends and family on Saturday.  

Anyway, so that's how I'm doing. Not very well, and not nearly as well as I sound in this post. Off to go ride the see-saw s'more. Man, now I want s'mores . . . .

One Hurdle at a Time

Actor Crush of the Day: Pierce Brosnan . . . YUMMMMM . . .

Sounds like he's made of chocolate, lol.

Hrm, that might not be so bad. Teehee!

This last week has been about trying to just get past each nerve-wracking thing after another.

I was SO freaked about Emily's birthday, this last week. If I have energy/motivation/focus, I'll post about a very nice accomplishment/victory I had in that arena that I've tried to approach the last couple years and kept failing at due to fear, among other stuff about it.

One. Hurdle. At. A. Time. Mind if I brainstorm a little, and lay it out, here? Any paper I chose to write on would get lost in the almost no carpet visible mess that is my living room and bedroom, currently.

1. Figure out how to get Effexor XR this week, by calling docs' offices for samples. My bishop is out of town almost all week, so I won't be able to access it that way. I should be able to get enough samples until I have the money for the $72.00 co-pay.

2. Straighten up the living room in short, 5 minute spurts throughout the day, spontaneously as I think about it. No guilt, no pressure. Well, with my new visiting teacher, the First Counselor in the bishopbric's wife, coming at 4:00pm, there is a little bit of pressure, but there's also alot of time.

3. DD has the day off school; rubber stamp with her as I've been promising to do (she rec'd a couple of Cinderalla stamps and papers in a kit, for her birthday), and make pumpkin chocolate chip cookies, again as I've been promising to do with her. Added benefit of the YUMMY cookies, besides knowing that I'm doing what Emily says is her favorite thing: baking cookies with ME. Guilt tho of almost never doing it (shuddup guilt, I'm firing you for the day.)

4. Relax and surf and participate in the rubber stamping and/or beading forums I like to online. Especially since I recently posted some rubber stamped cards on one forum, and have been and possibly will receive more kind comments; this motivates me to create more, and is a nice boost to the self-esteem. Is that pathetic, to do it for kind comments? It gets me DOING, and CREATING, and involved in one of my hobbies that I'm only just getting back into after not being able to function or want to hobby for years in a row, on that. Ok, self-critical voice, shuddup too. You're FIRED. For the day, anyway. no guilt, no self-critical. If it gets me creating, it's all good (well, as long as it doesn't hurt anybody).

5. Make sure I EAT something during the day instead of nothing all day.

6. Do SOME thinking about the hearing Tuesday morning, and the last ten years of my life and my faults, flaws, dysfunctions, and incapacities. This seems . . . terrible, and counter-productive towards managing my instabilities; ie, it seems completely focused on tearing myself down. But . . . it's what is needed for the hearing. People tend to overstate their capacity/capacities . . . I find myself saying, well, but I DO do this . . . but really, i am discovering, it's not that much; it is so hard and painful to strip away the defenses that have kept and keep me from seeing how . . . dysfunctional I am, how . . . unfunctional and . . . everything. I need to strip away most of the masking defenses and SEE my apathy, and, well, my patheticness . . .

Obviously I'll be turning to my husband, but he'll be at work from 9 to 5, and probably take awhile to get home. I am facing the worst thing I can think of right now that doesn't involve injury or death to people. I am so so so scared. Please be patient with me as I go on and on and seem so self-centered in what I talk about . . . I am AFRAID to dig into this stuff so rawly, intensely, so MUCH of it all at once, really (therapy and what I do during the week can be taken in smaller bits). Please leave me multiple messages throughout the day and week, if you like, or whatever. I am . . . I am going to face this, I am . . . I just . . . this is so hard, and tears are filling my eyes and rolling hotly down my cheeks as I type right now. so hard . . . . I know, I'm going on and on.

Let's see . . . another good thing would be to get outside for at least 10-15 minutes, into the sunshine tomorrow. I neglect that so much, but it does wonders for me.

Pray, A LOT! But I do that already, but it's good.

iamsoscared

As Paul Harvey says . . .

. . . and now, for the rest of the story.

So. My iatrist doesn't think I'm bipolar.

This caused HUGE problems, and he knew so, and apologized for putting me in such a difficult positon.

That position being, I have two mental health professionals that I trust; when they disagree so fundamentally, it creates an internal crisis . . . .

Thing is, it turns out my iatrist DOES think I'm bipolar, he just didn't want me to think so.

From things he's said, I gather that he thought I'd use it as an excuse, or not do the work I need to in therapy and just kind of "rest" on that label of bipolar . . .

Well, he doesn't know me very well. I've worked my butt off (I wish, literally, it'd be nice to have a skinnier butt . . .) in therapy!

As far as the dilemma, I soul-searched and scoured and examined things from every angle, and in addition to the fact that I'd spent many, many, MANY more hours with my ologist, and that I also had a deeper relationship with said ologist; in addition to those things, the facts just support the diagnosis of bipolar.

I'm afraid some of you will be saying, "See? She wants that label, to excuse stuff . . . "

It's an explanation, for me. I'd rather not have things be a mystery, because one can work with the known; in fact, it gives me hope that this is something that CAN be worked with, since mental health people have been doing so for years, as well as other bipolar patients.

Anyway, I find out from the lawyer, when I reluctantly mention that my iatrist doesn't think I'm bipolar, he says, "What!?!! Let me find it in my notes . . . . Yes, he says 'bipolar' in several places . . ."

As recently as my last appointment with him in July, is written the diagnosis of bipolar.

There is some consternation on my part, but surprisingly, I understand that he was doing what he thought was best for his patient, in this case, me. I disagree with his choice, here, but I respect that he was operating in my best interests according to his opinion and judgement.

See, I really connect with that because of some things we discussed at our last appointment, regarding other matters on which we had disagreed. I really appreciated then, as I do now, that, though I disagreed with the course he took, he was working from concern for my well-being and judged what he thought was the action to take.

I still disagree with a variety of things, including his decision to mislead and even lie to me about my bipolar diagnosis; I also venture to say that perhaps I'm so calm and collected upon learning about this, because there may be some hidden feelings such as anger and other somewhere inside that haven't come out yet; I do feel and have felt, though, the care he takes and concern he has for me, as his patient, and for acting in his patients' best interests.

I do not know what any professional organizations he belongs to have to say on such matters as this, but I suspect there is leeway given the huge variety of mental and emotional states of being, and combinations thereof, for patients of practitioners such as he.

Also, he's a D.O., which means he has a different view of things than most. I'll defintely NOT go for a D.O. again, lol.

I am feeling . . . a bit perturbed, though, and unsettled and even shocked and surprised to learn this, although I also feel everything else I wrote above regarding this matter as well.

When Psychiatrists Lie . . . .

. . . and my surprising thoughts on the matter, along with this week's experience.

Going to leave you hanging on this one for a bit! Aren't I a tease?

Judge's Office Has My Back on DBH records

Yippee! Just got done talking w/the paralegal at my lawyer's office; the judge's office has directly requested the records by fax today, saying that they've requested 'em before and that DBH has been uncooperative.

So, on Tuesday, the day the company that DBH subcontracts with to deal w/records and stuff, we'll see. Apparently, this has generally been enough to smack DBH into gear, and get the records sent fax or Express mail, when it's down to the wire.

On the occasions when it's not enough, a senior person at the particular Judge's office is, apparently, like a guard dog when it comes to this stuff, and will call DBH and say HEY, I will subpoena you and have it there by the end of the day. The threat of that is sufficient if and when the request they got sent today doesn't work.

The Judge's office knows how notorious DBH is for being a PITA on records.

SOOOOoooo they have alot of experience pulling this particular giant's teeth. YAY!

I feel ill, and dizzy, and floaty, and loopy . . .

I'm trying not to get worked up about the lawyer tomorrow.

As I've learned from Stephen, of Ethesis, some lawyers don't bite (and mine seems to be nice but it's been a year and a half since I met with him).

But the thing is, my subconscious doesn't seem to be listening.

Nausea, a rolling/moving/vertiginous (is that the right word?) sensation, I've had a floaty/out of it kinda pleasant sensation going too.

Oh yeah, several nightmares early this am, and then this afternoon, where I talk and shout every couple of minutes (it kept my hubby up.) Accompanied by a pleasant floaty/out of it/kind of what I imagine being a little high or buzzed might feel like, not that I've ever really wondered.

Course, the fact that I took my meds late today may be the culprit. I hope that's all, altho I take my meds late from time to time when I forget them, and I don't have all this going on.

I guess we'll SEE what we shall see.

Smallville was good, but I REALLY think what they had Lana doing was way out of character for her. Is she going to subsume who she is to be with Lex? Cause the thought of doing anything like she did tonight, for Clark, when she was with him, would've had her all riled at him about smothering her and her identity, even if he had no clue what she felt she needed to do for him . . . .

That hyper-criticalness of Clark, when she wouldn't be of anyone else, is the main thing that drives me nuts about her. I'm rooting for him and Chloe; Jimmy is just a make-out pal.

Although I suspect, as part of the "character-forming of the eventual Superman" aspect of this series, that Chloe is going to have to DIE to protect his secret. And that she will have to make a choice, knowing that death will be the result of her protecting Clark. Anyway, that's my suspicion. Still, I hope they can find some happiness together before that, but I suspect the writers will never let that happen . . . cause the drama of her dying to protect him means alot more 1f she's doing it for a friend, and not a lover. I mean, it's almost taken for granted that one would go to that length for your romantic partner, but somewhat less so for friends.

Anyway. Geez, I sure rambled from my original point, lol.

DAVIS BEHAVIORAL HEALTH!!!

Stupid hosers. Not only did I decide a year ago that their crisis/suicide line was pointless, ie, that I would not and could not call it anymore in case of a crisis/suicide situation on my part, after several calls over the course of two months, but this whole records situation . . . . talk about a bunch of franticness today!

The reason I waited 6-8 weeks after submitting the request in August is because it was going to take some time for them to get em to me.

AND, SSA has REQUESTED THEM DIRECTLY, and DBH has not released them. The lady there, Maggie, told me that they don't not release to SSA, but I said HEY, we've got a letter from them, listing the exhibits, that says they requested them from you and didn't get any, that we are faxing to you, Maggie at DBH, today.

My husband is going to be late for work, because he faxed, 10 mins ago now, the release form that they should have gotten with all previous requests for records. Frantic searching through all sorts of boxes and papers to FIND that. I made sure it'll work for today's date.

See, the paralegal called an hour ago, and said that my lawer really thinks we need those records; it's critical to proving the time frame of the problem, that things were happening then. My last date of work is January 1997; these records are from January to April of 1996 . . . My suicide attempt falls within that, although SSA already has the hospital records from that suicide attempt. My work was very spotty that year, as I could not retain a job. No matter how hard I tried, and I couldn't even try sometimes, many months in a row, because I kept failing and it made me want to kill myself.

When you throw EVERYTHING YOU'VE GOT at trying to hold a job, and you keep failing . . . . . it leaves a person in that state with nothing but the desperate option.

Anyway, so sporadic, short term work over that year, and the one I had from Dec 96 to first week of Jan 97 was the last one I had. Before that, I had an October to November job, and before that no job for awhile; before that, in the early spring, I had another temp job of two months (that should have gone longer but I quit going, again, because I couldn't force myself anymore) . . . .

See? Again, what kind of person can't hold a job . . . .

CRAP!! This whole damn hearing business is bringing me back to a scary, scary, SCARY place.

Joy of joys, my ologist has a seminar next Tuesday, so my next appt. with him actually isn't until Friday the 27th.

I'm going to need you guys, and I'm going to be venting alot. HUGE amount of stress and crap, and going back into all this stuff, dredging it up; yes, the application process dredged it up, but it's been a year and a half since the last papers were filed; I've been able to bury it again. I've buried it since the suicide attempt, because to go back there is to go to a really bad place.

THIS is horrid. Yeah, I know there's much else going on in the world, but for now this is what my world has become because I don't know how I'm going to get through it; I really don't.

I really don't want to go there; I have to, though. Guess what? Three hour lawyer appointment tomorrow . . . I might be a mess afterwards.

We'll see. Begging for money from the government. On the other hand, it's disability insurance that I paid into. On the other hand, the bad stuff inside is wanting to drag me down and say it's begging for money . . . .

Where is my hope for treatment, if this fails?

Of course, I had a prayer last night, about the issue of DBH records. And then I get this call today. So SOMEHOW, it's going to work out; the Lord knows I need those records.

They will only FAX them to the ALR (the particular one who is the judge in my case) if the file is 10-15 pages, otherwise it's mail it. That's next Tuesday. I said hey, express mail. And begged, in the voice mail, and cried, and said this is my only hope for that my husband doesn't have to be my caretaker the rest of my life. That's not fair to him. Earlier today I asked if I could drive up there and PAY anyone to FAX them, even extra pages. Nope, they said. I said, all we need is clinic notes, not the stuff she writes during counseling about what I say. They said, that's the whole file, we're sending it with that and stuff.

DANG IT. If they'd just send only what we need, it could be faxed FOR SURE.

I know I'm swearing alot here, but this word applies: DumbAsses.

I got a real sick feeling in the pit of my stomach when I heard how much the lawyer thinks we need these records; I feel sick now, still. I asked if we had a chance without them, and she said, "a chance . . ." but that we really need these to prove the time frame and stuff.

Basically, it's probably a snowball's chance in heck. We do have stuff about the depression from that time frame in my family doc's records . . . though. And the suicide thing. But I guess a mental health person kinda is like gold.

I'd have to say THESE mental health people are more like lead. Where's a philosopher's stone when you need one? These mental health people are making me need professional help . . . .

If I didn't already, which I did and do, but you know what I mean!

I am SICK inside; just SICK. I do have faith in the Lord, though. I do. I just don't know what more parts of this DBH mess I'm going to have to cajole, grovel, beg, search, whatever . . . . I will do whatever is required, as I know that's my part of things, what the Lord wants me to do. Course, I don't know what more I CAN do, and it may be that it is now completely in the Lord's hands . . . .

I am trying to get rid of the sick feeling by prayer and faith, but I know things are kind of up in the air, and I can't help worrying about how it's going to turn out, especially since I don't know if there will be or is more action on my part, in this. And the criticalness of these records, which I've been trying not to think about, has been brought fully to my attention and is making me sick.

Maybe I'll call my home teachers tonight for a blessing. Cause . . . I don't want to spend the weekend sobbing all day every day. I've asked/begged for Maggie at DBH to call me Tuesday after all this stuff has happened, because I need to know when it's done, and what's been done. I'm not sure she's going to, though.

Anyway.

Like Pulling Teeth - A Giant's Teeth

Oh, geez, I've only been trying for what, three years, to get my records out of Davis Behavioral Health?

Nothing like County Government to make things move slower n' molasses at the North Pole.

I JUST missed the lady; she left for the day! So instead of potentially getting my records next Friday, if she had requested them today, they won't even be requested until next Friday, (the day I meet w/the lawyer) and won't have them until the Friday after, which is TOO FRICKIN LATE!

I filled out some forms mid-August to avoid all this last minute rigmarole . . .

Thing is, we have until five days before the hearing to get new information in, although the thick sheaf of papers I just rec'd in the mail says we can bring new info, or info that we weren't able to submit on time, to the hearing . . .

Bureacracy. UGH.

I was going to get this taken care of, and then be able to rest easy (well, as easy as can be given all my other anxieties about the hearing) until the hearing.

Nope. I knew I shoulda called at 1 today, when I thought of it, but I was tired and depressed and went to bed.

Now I'm going to worry horribly that this is going to screw the whole case up. See, I believe that if I did what I could to get these records, then the rest of the process would be in the Lord's hands. And SO, I'm jinxed (magical thinking, I know, but I still believe it) because of this; things will go badly because of this; that's my HUGE, IRRATIONAL fear. Actually, I did everything I could. I mean, my depression IS an illness, and I push myself within it but part of the problems I have in my depression is not having enough inside to do things. I did do this, on several occasions. Maybe if I'm lucky they are sitting on someone's desk.

Do you all think I failed, here? Or is it justifiable that my depression makes it so it takes awhile for me to work up to doing stuff, and it often is at the end of a day before I work up the nerve to call somewhere?

Shot my own self in the foot, I guess. Just call me Hop A Long.

And another doc bites the dust . . .

Well guess what boys n' gals?

My psychiatrist is closing his private practice.

Just when we had finally wrangled out a good working relationship, too!

I am SO glad that I stuck with it, and him, and didn't give up on him as my psychiatrist. I learned alot about myself, although I'm also left in alot of confusion because I don't know that his perspective on my trying to follow through on making sure he gave me the medical records, is the right one.

I'm also wondering if I'll feel depressed and abandoned the closer the "end" comes. He's continuing to provide care until December 1. I happen to have a November appointment with him.

Great time of year to try to find a new psychiatrist . . . aren't the holidays a busier time for these folks, what with SAD, and holiday depression and stuff?

I'm not sure about using one my ologist recommends; I asked him about it this summer, when I was considering my options. He has a couple he refers people to, but patients who've had Dr. Brinley, and then gone to these two, said they liked Dr. Brinley better (and these are patients who left Dr. Brinley because of not getting along with him, I think.)

Do psychiatrists, in general, TEND to average more arrogant than other people? If so, is it just a natural part of the confidence one needs to effectively treat people, and stuff?

So I'm rather nervous about the whole prospect of finding a good iatrist. I'm not gonna go for a D.O., though, because I think some of our problems stemmed from coming from different theoretical backgrounds/approaches to mental illness, at least my mental illnesses.

What kind of Psychiatrist Finder options are out there, anyway? Online networks or other . . . I know there's pay services to look up all the info you want on a doc, but that's not what I'm talking about.

I know I don't like the lady psychiatrist who filled in for him last summer, but she works up in Logan most of the time anyway.

I have read many a site listing questions to ask prospective iatrists, and after my experiences with mine, I have a few of my own to throw in the mix. But still, that doesn't give me a place to start, and after that, it still doesn't help much until I'm actually in front of one to ask them the questions.

Here's a bit from the letter I rec'd today about WHY he's closing his practice.

1. Numerous patients ('new' and 'old') do not keep their appointments. I have a specific time reserved and allotted for each patient.
2. Many patients have not kept their financial commitments.
3. All Insurance Companies have dramatically diminished their fees. Thus, I cannot cover the rising cost of doing business.
4. All Insurance Companies have radically limited my ability to provide quality psychiatric care (i.e.: they dictate which medications will and will not be covered; they limit which illnesses they recognize [thus no payment is permitted although services have been provided]; they significantly limit the number of visits per year for all patients regardless of need; there is an excessive amount of phone calls and paperwork required to provide care for "their" clients; etc.).

I wondered what was up when, a few months ago, I learned he had gotten a job half-days at a hospital. Then, recently, he was gone for awhile down to St. George, subbing as they had a real shortage of psychiatrists, I guess, at a hospital there. He's not moving there, though.

So, I'm guessing he'll be doing hospital work full-time now.

I also suspect his suspension last year soured him on people and things. Perhaps he feels vulnerable to more of the same, but you have patients no matter where you are practicing, and in whatever setting.

So, change. Scary. BIG change.

Or, I could just skip the psychiatrist thing entirely, and follow one of his several ideas at the beginning of the letter, which is to have meds managed by my primary care physician.

That, though, I think will not be best for the long run, but will give me time to find an iatrist I like.

A Day in the Life of Sara

Let's see, it's 2:40 am Utah time, and I'm still up. My sleeping has gotten rather off schedule lately, as I tend to do from time to time.

I've been told a regular schedule, especially sleep, is good for bipolar people, but I SO HATE SCHEDULES! It's like the antithesis of ME.

I know that being so OFF, sleep-wise, isn't the best for me. I'm gonna go to bed soon, I promise.

I'm worried that I won't be able to go to church tomorrow, because I'll be zonked from the late night, plus the meds that tend to make it almost impossible for me to wake well and stay awake without a certain minimum of sleep hours that night. They do this to me sometimes too even with a good 9 hours of sleep.

I worry that I'll be thought less of for having 9 hours as my ideal sleep number, but everyBODY's different!

I worry about practically everything. Like everytime I plug in an appliance in the kitchen, I worry about an electrical fire starting in the wall. I try really hard to keep this worry confined to the kitchen, and not let it seep out to other areas of the house.

That's my battle sometimes, you see. Containment; holding the line. That is a victory in itself. I have to accept that this is okay; there isn't enough of me to dance the dance of a duel with every single thing I battle, to the point of elimination and conclusion.

So, I hold the line, and the worry of electrical fires is bound and restrained.

I worry what will be thought of me, upon public viewing and digestion of this post; then again, I strive to show the issues and living of mental illness, and especially to fight the stigma.

I feel as Don Quixote, a bit, as I mount my charger, don my raiment, and hold forth my lance with which I hope to topple a few windmills . . .

I will be going into detail in these snippets from my day, Sunday October 8th (or, perhaps snippets from this WEEK; it depends on how much focus and attention and ability I have today to continue with this project; if I run out of steam, I'll spread it over a week or so.)

As I will be going into some detail, I will submit these as bits, instead of a whole post. Please bear with me.

Fair Enough

It seems this has been a week of me opening up my heart and soul to family.

THAT'S a new one for me . . . !

I have been rather emotionally closed off from them since childhood . . . I know I have alot of issues to work on, but I LOVE them.

In this harsh world, FAMILY should be a warm and caring word, a place of security. I can't say I'm emotionally secure most of the time around them, but then I'm not emotionally secure around most anyone (my marriage and daughter not being part of this discussion, lol).

I know time, and therapy and therapy/work and stuff, I'll learn to BE a sister, BE a daughter, BE the kind of person in those family "roles" that I believe I am, that I want to be.

Such as the fact that I believe with my whole heart that children should assist their parents as they, well, age (don't mean to make you feel old, mom! As I said the other day, if things get finer as they age, you two must be approaching magnificent . . .!). The kind of person I am, believes that you help them if and when they need help.

I know I don't have a whole lot of capacity right now, but it might surprise you how much capacity I do have, sometimes. I hope to eventually be more consistent, but I'm not, I'm NOT going to punish myself for not being, right now; I have to let that way that I think I SHOULD be, go for now because it's just one step at a time, and I'll hate myself if I keep failing . . .

I disagree with Yoda, when he said, "There is no try." I believe there is.

In this whole process of therapy, I see myself eventually BECOMING. What joy and possibility there is inherent in that word! It's also a process, a journey, and not a destination . . . although I do think there will be milestones of increased capacity and capability, I hope. At some point . . . (my fears are making me say "at some point", because at the moment I am so buried in an extreme level of stress, and stressful situations, and other stuff, that I've got to focus on the nearer work, and not punish myself for not being yet to a place that I wish I was.)

If you followed that, lemme know. Lol.

I do feel inside, the title of this post. It isn't put up or shut up, because that's too all-or-nothing, too black-and-white thinking for me; that kind of thinking gets me in trouble . . . but it IS a matter of acting on my beliefs and feelings, when I can, instead of staying as isolated in them. It'll take some practice, and it was hard to hear that I wasn't just instantly believed when I said these things I feel and believe . . . BUT, I did take it in, and I did think and feel . . .

Fair enough.

I'm Published!!

Click the title to go to the The Initiative, Newsletter of the Depression and Bipolar Support Alliance of Colorado Springs, CO.

They published, on page 10, my "Hey! Where's My Shoelaces?" post/essay from last year.

When I was contacted, in August I think, about this I was floored! Flattered too, of course.

I HAVE BEEN PUBLISHED! Neato! I hope it touches someone out there in Colorado, or someone on the web who runs across the newsletter.

If I've touched even one person (beyond the one already moved to publish it, Mr. Sakai), then I will be pleased as punch! A nice, slushy, banana and citrusy punch, like we had at my wedding!

Thank you Charles, for contacting me, and for seeing something good in what I wrote!

I'm gonna go to bed and dream some happy dreams now

SSDI Hearing is on Halloween!!!!

Doesn't THAT just take the pumpkin pie?

I figured a pumpkin pie would be more appropo than cake . . .

Gosh darn it now I want pumpkin pie! I might have to settle for some scrumptious Pumpkin Streusel Muffins I've been meaning to make . . . .

Holy Smokes! I am terrified out of my wits! I guess that means I'm witless. Or something.

How funny is it that it's on Halloween? Good thing hubby has that day off . . .


AAaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!

I AM SO FREAKIN' SCARED! Let's see, what'm I feeling right now?

Terror, fear, excitement (I hope that doesn't come across wrong, but the HOPE that we could be not dead poor anymore, plus pay for treatment, save money, pay off debts, and, in the next year or two, buy a place of our own to live . . . how could that not be exciting?), nervousness, reticence, a sense of impending danger and doom, I want to tell everybody, I want and NEED someone to talk to . . .

Three years of a horrible, tearing-down of self, and barriers inside that I had put up to keep me from seeing my problems functioning, to keep me from admitting, to keep me from seeing the horror and embarrasment and awfulness of incapacity that has accompanied these illnesses . . . . this process has been HORRID! Therapy has been a help there, for the past year, a bit longer than a year . . .

I would not wish this process on anyone, except of course that they need the positive end result, but the process itself SUCKS. And, has almost KILLED me several times. May 2005, when I received yet another rejection letter . . . that weekend is the closest I've ever come since my suicide attempt in 1996.

Enough about THAT morbidity, though. Maybe not. See, May 2005, when I got that letter, I felt as though all light and Hope had been extinguished; that any chance of ever being better, getting better, getting to a place that was more manageable . . . that all Hope had been snuffed, erased, guttered out. When one has no Hope . . . . thankfully, I learned there was further reason for hope in this process . . . the problem is, should the result this time be negative (90% of the people at this point in the process are approved, I keep telling myself to stave off that fear, although cautious to not count eggs before they are hatched; to not count on it, either) I am worried that I could and would CRASH dangerously.

So I'm scared to go see the lawyer, and do all the prep and practice for being in front of the judge and vocational and psychologist experts . . . and I'm TERRIFIED BEYOND MEASURE of the hearing . . .

HOLY CRAP! This is really happening. It's been some far off thing I didn't have to think about until now . . .

I'm Frightened!!!

I do know I need to go to the Social Security building and watch the video they have that shows and talks about the hearing process or something.

I'm going to need all the love, kindness, understanding, patience, friendship, and support I can get. I am proud of myself for getting this far, but I'm feeling very weak in the knees, both physically and emotionally. Mentally too . . . but then it's only been half an hour since I found out, and I'm still just starting to react.

Yeah, it's not a big deal to the rest of the world, but . . . this is a huge thing, in mine right now. I may have wider more extreme mood swings than usual (not planning on it, though), I may be more irritable and edgy, I may be alot less focused and more scattered than usual (if that's possible, lol), I may repeat myself ALOT and seem rather selfish, and far too self-focused (I do understand about serving others, and I am concentrating on little things I can do for my husband and daughter from time to time; that, too, counts and is about as far as I can go right now, and it is service, even though it's family!) I must take care of myself right now because this is all very intense, and if I don't I could easily end up in a scary place.

So please, please be understanding. I hate to be, and/or seem selfish, but . . . there is aLOT wrapped up in this, aside from the years that have been put into it.

I'll obviously have more to post, but this is enough for right now, I think . . .

Off to meet w/my new bishop later, he seemed nice on the phone . ..

September - a poem by dd

Sunset in the sky
Evening is coming
Pigs are going to bed
The leaves are falling
Everyone is sleeping
My dog is sleeping
Bare trees
Exit summer
Rainbows

I think it's quite good, actually! It just FEELS poetic. I am not sure where the pigs or the dog came from, though. Apparently they are sleepy . . .

She wanted me to post the poem on my blog!

Help Me Help You - First Episode Impressions (Spoilers, probably, too)

Sorry Barb! I forgot to tell you it would be on tonight. Boot to my head . . .!

Well, there's the full of himself aspect that seems to be part and parcel of many of Ted Danson's roles; that wasn't unexpected. It leads to some . . . downright rude/unkind interactions or comments to/with his patients, but that was expected as part of the comedy as well. Although you certainly know he will NOT be telling the redhead to get a grip, anytime soon . . .

I thought the episode was a bit uneven. I can somewhat understand that, given the switch between stories of Dr. Hoffman's personal life, and the lives of the group therapy participants, as well as the group therapy itself. It still felt more uneven than I feel it could have been, though.

I actually thought it was funny and ironic of the car salesman to, after hugging Ted's divorcing wife, kissing her, and on his way out, he said to Ted as he was leaving, c'mon in and I'll replace that car for you. Or something like that; Ted's character kept insulting the car he had bought from this guy, upon finding out the guy was "with" his wife. Dr. Hoffman isn't the only one who is full of himself; I thought it funny to have that kind of brashness turned towards him, lol.

I was uncomfortable with Inger's scene in the bar?/restaurant, (she's the one with "no social skills" per the scripty diagnoses overlaid on the screen over their characters early in the show), as she goes on and on and on about herself, but not the way most people do, it's exaggerated (not unexpectedly . . .) She didn't sound like me, in what she said and the type, but I still cringed at the way characters are going to backlash against her, as I feel I have been incorrectly and unfairly judged and backlashed-against, this year, in several huge areas of my life. One of the most hurtful revelations, well, group of revelations all at once, about how some people I thought I could trust, ACTUALLY feel and think about me . . . well, I am going through some major stuff with that, as well as being in the midst of still barely beginning to process a major unpleasantness of finding out other hidden thoughts and feelings about me, from someone else, earlier this year, that will take years, if ever I CAN be done with it(understandably, I've been told), to process and work through . . .

It's been a hard, hard year . . . I still have the strains of someone calling me "psycho" echoing through my head; I don't believe I have ever acted anything near a manner that could begin to approach "psycho" behavior, but nevertheless, it burns inside me. The phrase, "you're a waste of a life and a human being" is one that hits even harder, as I have often thought that myself; I was horrified, though, to receive that sort of thing from someone. We have made up; this isn't about anger at her; it's just about the mess of crap I find myself dealing with and drowning in; this July episode of ugly revelations dredged the earlier stuff all back up again, as well; no wonder, because they are both very intense, and, as others have said, given what was done to me, that it is understandable that it be a slow, slow process to work through, most probably on the scale of years, or longer.

Anyway! All this stuff, wrapped up in an instant, gut reaction to this scene with the character Inger. I was also dismayed that persons without much social skill, for various reasons, might be put up in front of the world in this manner, via her character, to be ridiculed and stereotyped . . .

Yes, I know it's a comedy. There is room within a comedy, though, to show more than just a stereotype, although often that's as far as comedies go; this is an hour long show, though, and I WAS pleased to see it wasn't just joke, joke, joke, easy laugh, easy laugh, etc. without anything else inbetween . . .

I actually liked a particular moment in therapy, where one member gets up, says how uncomfortable it all is, and is going to leave. Dr. Hoffman says that this isn't uncomfortable, then gets up, walks over, and puts his face one inch from the other's nose, and says, "THIS is uncomfortable." I have NO idea whether that would work in the real world, but besides being funny, I also thought it true . . . and also wasn't all about the therapist, either.

I did see his character wanting to help is patients, at least, glimpses of it, when the narcissistic behavior and manner let up for a little here and there.

Dr. Hoffman's character, is rather pathetic in some aspects, but surprisingly not so in a few. So, he's not a complete ass (pardon my swearing), but he needs alot of work, lol. I guess part of the premise of the show is that he will discover he needs his patients just as much as they need him, ie, being the therapist for them, and maybe even learning from them, maybe. So, if he's got some room for growth built in to the show's basic premise, I suppose there could be some hope for him (ok, really, some hope for my "ideal" of him as a caring, supportive, capable therapist, lol). Yup, still looking for that male mentor type, am I. Ah, well. It's not like I can turn that off . . . I've tried. Before my therapy is over, though, I hope it will have naturally waned.

SO! There's alot about me and my psychological issues in this review of the first episode.

But, That's Me! (The characters aren't me, I'm Me, in case any of you were confused . . .)

Oh! I also thought it funny when Dr. Hoffman's daughter (in school to become some kind of mental health professional) starts videotaping he and his soon to be ex-wife, for her Freudian something something something class. She said it'd be perfect for what they were talking about in class, and for them to just pretend she wasn't there . . . lol. When they send her packing, she says, "NOW you have boundaries . . ."

Edit: Actually, those two phrases from earlier in the year, are much less powerful (right now? forever? not sure?) than the stuff I learned this last July from some ladies whom I had been afraid to "show" more of myself, and my mental illnesses, to, a year or two ago. They said, "We can handle it; it'll be ok." Well, they lie, and my initial assessment of them/fear of them proved to be all too correct, as I found out this summer. They KNEW I was trusting them with stuff that could easily be seen the wrong way . . . ok, that's enough bout THEM in this post. UGH.

Therapeutic Relationship = Artifact of Therapy?

How MUCH of the therapeutic relationship is just in my head, as well as how much is just a "natural" or expected psychological reaction to the ways a psychologist interacts with a patient (appropriately)?

I think, perhaps, that psychologists often get a break, sort of an easy in, so to speak, in some ways, because the ways they are trained to interact with their patients, the questions they ask, the ways they phrase them, any training they've received in the manner of their affect and manner of being within their office . . . these things all, seem to me, to invite semi- or sub-conscious avenues of trust, connectedness, positive regard, and other things.

SO. How much of what I "feel" in the therapeutic relationship, what I "feel" about the therapeutic relationship, the depth and quality of the therapeutic relationship, the "human" "connectedness" and "concern" I "feel" as a partner in our working relationship . . . how much of that is just . . . evoked naturally, or should I say, evoked in response to and by the aforementioned aspects of therapy, the therapist, his/her training, his/her efficacy in using that training, and other things.

Have I been "had", as it were, in that I have been at least somewhat fooled into a sense that I'm genuinely cared about (appropriately), that I'm genuinely completely accepted as I am, that I'm seen in a positive, capable way, that I'm RECEIVING a human connectedness and concern that is a useful, positive, and effective aspect of therapy and the/my/our therapeutic relationship?

Have I been "had", by the techniques, skills, and other psychological applications that are de riguer (sp?) and possibly/probably? just a bag of "tricks", or rather, box of "tools" the psychologist pulls out as needed, as applicable?

How much of the therapeutic relationship is in my head, how much of it is in the naturally evoked responses to the therapist's technique (and thus, perhaps just a reciprocal part of the technique, on my part, and possibly thus rather meaningless?), and how much of it is real? How much of it is my wish, my ardent, heartfelt wish that someone, somewhere on this earth, could possibly accept me, and LIKE (appropriately) me, AS I am, and for WHO I am, regardless of my character flaws, personality quirks, and state of physical and mental health?

How much of it is from that longing, that detested longing that I have learned since before I could even be capable of identifying it, that I have learned to loathe and punish myself for? That yearning, that is so inescapable and primitive, the strength and depth of which is overwhelming, and yet I despise it, and my yielding to the tidal wave forcefulness of it? As if I could somehow stand up to it, and deny the undeniable . . . the feeling that SOMEHOW, I should be capable of the impossible, barring entry to this urgent, basic longing?

HOW MUCH OF THE THERAPEUTIC RELATIONSHIP IS ARTIFACT, ARTIFICE, SUBCONSCIOUS REACTION; HOW MUCH IS EVEN PURPOSEFULLY ELICITED BY THERAPEUTIC TECHNIQUES DESIGNED TO ENCOURAGE AND FOSTER THE INCREASE OF TRUST, CONNECTION, CARE, AND OTHER REGARDING THE THERAPIST/PATIENT RELATIONSHIP? HOW MUCH IS IN MY HEAD/HEART WITHOUT A REAL BASIS, BOTH IN REGARDS TO THE PREVIOUS AND IRREGARDLESS OF THE PREVIOUS?

Therapy Ring A Round The Rosie

Well, today's therapy was different.

See, there's this thing.

This thing that, well, I just can't figure out any way to even begin to approach it.

He tried to bring me to it, but I just CAN'T DO IT.

Problem is, the consequences of NOT doing it, are . . .

Anyway. I've been trying a zillion different ways in my head to try to, but . . . there is NO PLACE I CAN EVEN BEGIN at with it.

Sooooo. It's a dilemma. He really did alot to try and help me approach it. But it's all stuff I had already thought of and I just CAN'T. It's like asking me to swim up a 100-foot wave of water, like near the end of Perfect Storm.

Fear is an understatement . . . try abject terror.

Self-Analysis

Well, I suppose my desire in yesterday's post that that new show, have some moments of real connectedness and not just people laughing at each other, is actually indicative of what I WANT, in my own life, in some relationships, well, some positive relationships, than it is a feeling about the show itself. It's about that, TOO, but now I feel stupid because it seems so obvious that it is about me and what I feel, and feeling unconnected to/with people.

Anyway, wonder what I should charge myself for this scintillating analysis . . . hee hee.

EDIT: OR, maybe I'm so afraid of being hurt, that tv is the only safe way to be/feel connected between people. OR, maybe I'm just plain afraid of connectedness.

Ah, this post was better before the edits. Cause maybe I DON'T want more connectedness, even though I think I do. Or maybe I do, even if I think I don't.

Now THAT's why I'm in therapy; cause I'm all mixed up. I think I can agree with myself on that . . .

New TV Series "Help Me Help You"

Daughter quotes: It's just like How It's Made. Except it's different. (remarking on the show, "John Ratzenberger's Made In America".

Life . . is messy. (We hear in Ted Danson's voice, at the beginning of the free video preview of this show at abc.com) We can't control life. And we don't like that. Sometimes we get so mad we just wanna . . . jump out a window. And then . . . we land on our boss.

This is the first I've heard of Ted Danson's new fall show, Help Me Help You. Apparently he's the shrink (not sure what type of mental health professional, probably ologist I'd guess) and the show is about group therapy. Rather, it seems to be about all the funny that arises from all sorts of therapeutic boundary violations, and all the other usual boundary violations you'd see in a sitcom. Well, those would all fit under therapeutic boundary violations, since, by definition, anything outside of what the therapeutic relationship generally entails, is a therapeutic boundary violation . . . .

Anyway. For some reason I'm drawn to mental health professional types; I find them fascinating. Hope Healthpsych and others don't think I'm wierd now, but I s'pose given my lifelong struggles it's possibly an understandable thing, anyway.

So I guess we'll see how this show is. If it's a complete wreck, and always goes for the cheap laugh, or if there's actual some "real" interaction that goes on in the midst of the funny.

Yeah, it's a sitcom, it's not about "real", but I find sitcoms that do the same old thing all the time, and ALWAYS go for the cheap laugh, to be old and tired right out of the box.

So here's hoping that there's some surprising moments of actual connectedness going on in there, and not just people laughing at each other's problems, and peeping thru the doctor's windows, ad nauseum.

I knew Ted Danson had grey/white hair, but it looked kind of cartoonish/exaggerated on the screen; this doesn't bode well, if they exaggerated that because age = authority/wisdom or whatever, for him to come across well as a shrink. Or maybe it really IS that white now. Poor Sam must be rolling over in his fictional grave; he was SO proud of his head of hair, among other things.

On a different comedic series note, but still on ABC: The Knights of Prosperity actually looks like it could be funny, and not just the same old thing . . .

The Scare of My Life!!

Thank goodness it was brief, though.

I looked up at the clock, and it was 5 til 4. I thought, "Ohmygosh, where's my daughter? She should be home from school by now!!!"

We've had one scare in the past where I called out her name and was crying all the way as I walked to the school and back, looking for her, and didn't find her.

THAT was a REALLY BAD DAY, let me tell you.

So, freaking out a bit, I check with a neighbor; the one who's daughter she usually walks home with. Not there, and her daughter had gone to a friend's house from school, like my daughter is going to do tomorrow.

I was headed back to my apartment, to put on shoes and call that friend's house she was going to tomorrow, in case she mixed up the days, when I saw my daughter behind the apartment buildings slowly walking home.

Turns out she waited and waited and waited forever for the friend she walks home with, and after half an hour finally walked home. BOY am I glad she came home while there were still crossing guards at the intersections . . . .

Whew. Heart still pounding a bit, here . . . . I did let the neighbor know she was ok, she wanted to know when I found her.

Pressured Franticness or Frantic Pressuredness?

Imagine me a ping pong ball whizzing around at hyperspeed and that's the frantic pressure going on inside me. Not about the ward changing thing, although I'm SURE that contributes.

I'm not going to say what it's about, actually (we're all fine, tho! well, as fine as I can be, I suppose, given I'm feeling like I'm sitting on top of a volcano that's about to blow . . .).

But.

ASEHROYHQNEROITJOAKNASFLKMDFNVLK
DAFNGOAISDTOIQWERTYQENRYGOANTGN
SAIEODGHASOIFGH

Okay, that was just a fragment of my tumbled, pressured, frantic urges/thoughts, whatever that are trying to get out. Somewhere in there, you'll find that twelve monkeys accidentally wrote the Compleat Works of Shakespeare on a bunch of typewriters.

9/11 2,996 Bloggers Tribute - Gricelda E. James

From the guestbook for Gricelda at Legacy.com -

October 12, 2001
Griselda was a wonderful, gifted and full of life person. She was shy..but very sweet. I knew Griselda from our days growing up in Tela, Honduras, she will be greatly missed, but not forgotten. - Sylvia Durant (Bronx, NY )

I thought I would lead off this tribute to Gricelda James with a personal note from someone who knew her.

For those who don't know, a project was started for 2,996 bloggers to each memorialize one of the September 11th victims on their own blog. Gricelda's name became the person I would attempt to memorialize in some hopefully meaningful way, as much as a stranger to her could . . . .

She was 44, from Willingboro, N.J. She was an administrative assistant for International Office Centers Corp., and was confirmed dead at/in the World Trade Center.

I know that I did not know her, but I was an administrative assistant when I could work, and so I know a good deal about what that entails, and where you sit on the totem pole in the office pecking order, and such. It tends to be a thankless job . . . but one which I know that I tried my best at, anyway, because people just do not REALIZE everything a "secretary" does . . . .

When I read that she was an administrative assistant, I did feel like I knew a bit of what parts of her work life might have been like, and felt more of a connection. I was eager, though, to find some personal notes and memories left somewhere on the web, from those who knew her, so I could get a window into what she was like, this person who was cruelly and abruptly taken from her loved ones and friends five years ago, and whose loss is still likely felt by them, as well as, in whatever way we can, by the rest of us who mourn the lost from that day.

From her guestbook at September11Victims.com:

Amber Green

Commenter Email and IP address is in file
09/27/2004 11:52:58 AM

I knew Gricelda and she was a very sweet person. She was married to my uncle and they were in love. My deepest sympathy goes out to Uncle Mike and the James family. I'm glad I found this site because just to see her picture brings back only good memories, which will let her live on forever.

Amber Green

Rachel

Commenter Email and IP address is in file
04/12/2006 6:20:09 PM

Mrs. James' husband worked at my school at the time. I knew they were deeply in loved, shared 5 beautiful children, and both were very successful. I pray that her family, and friends are blessed and that she will never be forgotten. She was a wonderful woman.

Here is a link to an article about her, written in January of 2002, by Kathleen Kernicky of The Sun-Sentinel. From this article, I learned that she traveled to her hometown of Tela, Honduras in August for a 2-1/2 week visit. A quote from that article:

"She spent a lot time with my mother. She saw a lot of her old friends, people she grew up with. People she had not seen in a long time. She came back to work in September, and a week later, this happened ... She was saying goodbye," Garo-Brown said.

I also learned from this article that she worked on the 79th floor, and had worked there for 2 years. She moved to the U.S. in 1995 after studying business administration in college in Honduras.

When she moved to the U.S., she got a job in Boston. During a visit to New York, she visited an old friend from when she was growing up in Honduras. He had a crush on her when they were teenagers, but she married a different man. At this time, she was the divorced mother of two boys, and after renewing their connection, they fell in love and got married a year later. They moved into a new house in N.J.

That is absolutely one of the most romantic stories I have ever heard. What a long time to wait for your ladylove!

A quote from the article that fits ME to a T, as well, is:

"She had her own personality," her sister said. "To know her is to love her. She was quiet. She wasn't a woman of too many words. Once she got to know you, you couldn't shut her up."

Yeah, that's me, quite often, it seems. Although I don't know if to know me is to love me, though. One of my goals for this tribute was for me to try to get a glimpse of the REAL person behind the name that is one of many on so many lists that are posted on various web sites and blogs . . . . to try and connect in some way with her. Not in order to re-traumatize myself about 9/11/2001, but rather to get a different perspective on that day, to bring it down to a scale that is more understandable, and not so vast that it seems to fail one's ability to grasp it. To see the PERSON, and not just the name on the list. I feel like I am succeeding a bit in that goal, as I write, here. Forgive me if I fail in any aspect in this tribute; these are my feelings and thoughts mixed up with what I am learning about Gricelda, and the LIFE she had and was LIVING.

There is a scene in the movie, The Core, where the Ukrainian/Russian character says to the others something like, and I paraphrase, "Me, I'm not trying to save 6 billion people; that's too much, that's too big. All I can think about saving is three people, my wife and kids. I just hope I am good enough, and smart enough, to save THREE."

This is kind of what I am trying to convey with my tribute; what I am trying to feel and see, and what I am trying to say and show about 9/11 and the tragic death of Mrs. Michael James. That, perhaps, 9/11 might just be too big to comprehend, with the scale and the scope of it, but that when we take an individual look, at an individual, that from this we might find something profound for ourselves; that from this we might learn something about ourselves, and our feelings about that day; that from this we might learn something about Gricelda, and the light and presence she brought to those people she worked and played with, laughed, lived, and loved with; that from this we might somehow be just that little bit different for having read and learned about her, and by so doing, the ripples outward from her presence here on this earth will continue to have a positive effect on the world she left behind.

She was a creative person, enjoying floral design and decoration. I, too, love to create. This is another quality about her that I feel that I can understand a bit of. Creation is in my blood.

Another quote from the article:

"She was very creative," her sister said. "That was her next step, to start doing that. Everything at her home, she did herself. She had a sewing machine and she sewed everything herself. Her curtains, her vases of flowers that she made herself out of material. You'd walk in and you knew she made everything."

I am saddened by Gricelda's death, but I am grateful to those who organized this project for the opportunity to get to know this vibrant person. She seems so, from what I have learned about her. I hope that I, in some small way, have done her memory justice.

Gricelda James Scholarship Fund

Scholarship set up in memory of Gricelda E. James. To make a donation, contact the Westampton Township Public Schools, 710 Rancocas Road, Westampton, NJ 08060.

A link to an article about three (including Gricelda) New Jersey victims, their loved ones, their phone calls to each other on 9/11, and what followed.

A link to an article about her husband Michael, in March 2002, and his life after 9/11 without her.

A link to a 9/11 quilt gallery, online. Go HERE and input her name, and it'll pull up the quilt square made in her memory.

Top 20 Psychiatric Prescriptions 2005

Interesting. I note that Neurontin/gabapentin is not on there, but I know that the manufacturer had its hand slapped for promoting off-label use of it, for bipolar and such . . . and I believe there have been a few studies? that show that its efficacy for such is questionable or even has little to none . . .

Course, I experienced a mental, perceptive, directive, emotional, and more that is difficult to describe, awakening and expanding as the Neurontin kicked in . . . I s'pose I should link to that post, but I think most of you have read it. As well, I experienced an appreciable lessening of general amplitude, frequency, and length of mood swings as the drug kicked in. I still have swings that push out of that, but it's no longer a rollercoaster that has huge ups and downs on a daily and weekly basis . . . it's stretched out the "graph", if you will, of it, some. This is SO SO SO appreciated by me, and I LOVE that it does this for me . . . . I don't know if I'd necessarily call myself stable, at least not this week, as i'm having a rather low time, but . . . overall, over time, I'd say that I'm noticeably more stable than I was, generally.

If it's working for me, then I'm content.

I suppose one can say the brain and all the structures therein, and the biochemicals that run the place, or run amok it seems, is such a complex thing and set of interacting systems, substances, and processes, and that so much is NOT known about the brain and its workings, that I suppose I'll just chalk it up to that unknown area, and perhaps individual personal variations in body and brain chemistry.

I'm not surprised to see Effexor XR on there . . . I bet it might be higher if it wasn't so @#$#@ and @#$@#$ expensive . . . . not surprised at the Xanax either, although I extremely underutilize it. There was one month, last year, where I carefully but appropriately and seems almost perfectly utilized it when needed, and it seemed to almost stretch out when I needed to take it, because interrupting the cycle of fear, seemed to short circuit the continuing cycles of it, a bit. It was really COOL to see and feel the way this worked, that month . . .

I also have a bit of Klonopin around here, somewhere, but that's not something I'm currently on, really. Although I'm not sure I was given the right instructions for it when I got it (my psychiatrist was on suspension and suspended right to prescribe, and so I had a sub shrink at the time), and so the fact that it didn't seem to work for me, anxiety wise, might be more due to the fact that I was only taking half a one at night, and a quarter one as needed, instead of keeping the level of it consistent in my blood by taking a partial earlier in the day. But I didn't know that then.

It DID do wonders for cutting the frequency of the EXTREMELY HORRID, sometimes violently graphic, and extremely TERRIFYING, VIVID nightmares that Effexor gives me, in half or so. It cut me down to about 1-3 per week, instead of 4-6 per week. It also stopped those things where I was asleep, and all of a sudden it was like someone whacked me in the head with a cast-iron skillet (no image of being whacked, what I was being whacked with, or that there was an entity behind it, but that's just a descriptor of how hard the blow felt), I literally physically FELT the blow and the recoil/slam/being knocked back by it, and there was an accompanying bright white intense light that filled my brain (sometimes, not always), and then I JERKED AWAKE VIOLENTLY to find my body out of my control, convulsing and limbs jerking up forcefully from the bed. A time or two, it felt like a terrible yank in my back that was attempting to fold me in half with much force, and I'd awake to my body jerking up, seemingly trying to do just that . . . They called this night terrors, but that term doesn't describe the feeling of what I went through as well as my description does, lol.

I suspect Zyprexa and Depakote would be higher, if not for the weight gain and added risk of diabetes, at least, that's what I seem to have read are potential effects of those drugs . . . if my doc ever suggests them, I'll have some strong feelings about it . . . especially since I have PCOS, which I don't know much about but recently hear that it might mean I'll probably or definitely get diabetes someday? Why don't docs explain stuff when they say, you have THIS, or THAT . . . . . .

Anyway, I thought the list was interesting, and there's my thoughts on my experiences and regarding this list.

Which part is ME, and which part is the Cycling?

For example, the post just below this one. I tend to feel that way when I'm cycling looooowwwww.

BUT. That doesn't change the facts.

And, it doesn't change the fact, for me, that those facts SUCK.

So. How much is ME, and how much is the illness? Bets, anyone?

Anyone wanna start a pool?

Or spin a spinner, and whatever percent it lands on, we'll decide THAT percentage split will define the me/illness boundary for the day.

A touch sarcastic or cynical? Why the hell not?

If YOU didn't know how much you was you, and how much you wasn't you, then we might be in the same slappy happy crappy boat. (Slappy being mixed, or sarcastic moods too).

Somebody SLAP me . . . isn't that a Jim Carrey line, from a movie? I think I'm getting it mixed up with something else.

I feel a bit stirred, not shaken. Like when I was in 10th grade biology, in 9th grade (I was an advanced science student), and we were dissecting fetal pigs, and I opened up the flap I had just cut (anyone eating, or wanting to remain non-nauseaus for the next while, look away now) in the skull, and gazed upon the brains of the piglet; and then I stirred them around, and it was like tapioca.

Hope I have't ruined anyone's taste for tapioca. Have some!!

Church Moments 8/27/06

A very young toddler, in the middle of the main service, loudly and delightfully proclaiming, "Taa-Daaa!"

Nothing like the feeling when you are singing Hymn #2 in unison with the rest of the congregation!

Finding easy amusement for your antsy 7 year old by placing a piece of white fuzz off your skirt on her hand, which she then blows off and quietly giggles at. Rinse and repeat.

Comforting my daughter when she's lost the 2 inch length of black string you found on your skirt for her. (My daughter LOVES stringy things; also, with her autism, when something is "wrong", out of sorts, suddenly different, an awkward or unpleasant transition, unexpected, surprising, new or different . . . she melts into tears and has coping/adjustment problems with it. I practice alot of tender patience with her, in this regard. I also feel that some might feel I am making excuses for her, using her autism as an excuse, and/or coddling her . . . but this is one of the mis-wirings of autism, that adjusting is not easily done, and feels terribly world-changing to her. At least, from what I've read this seems to be the case . . .

Pet Peeve: "short bus" jokes

Actor Crush of the Day: Hugh Laurie (Thanks for the reminder, Dr. A!)

Edit: I also challenged myself creatively! See my Inklings blog in the sidebar.

It's a pet peeve of mine that some people think making jokes about riding the short bus, or related jokes, are funny.

Now, I know that there's people in the world who make jokes about all sorts of potentially offensive things; it's not like I can't handle that. I just thought I'd go off on this one today.

I used to play Star Wars Galaxies* (an online game), and, while I played with other fun-loving adults, it still seems that the "gamer" type, still tended to be the type of person who thought ridiculing the short bus and its riders, was funny.

For those who don't know, the "short bus" being the smaller school bus that disabled and/or special ed children would often ride on, at least when I was growing up.

Not everyone who plays computer games, online or not, and is an adult, fits that gamer stereotype; see my husband and I, for example. Married couples who played were less likely to fit that category.

Some of these "short bus jokers" seemed to get offended, in the mode of, I was trampling on their rights, when I asked them to consider my feelings, and that I had a special needs child. Some of them were like, "Oh, sorry!" That was the exception though . . . Offended isn't really the right word, for how some reacted. Affronted, or put out, maybe . . . perhaps they felt a little guilty, I don't know.

I just don't understand this mentality, although I suppose picking on the different, is something that most creatures do . . . chickens, wolves, sharks probably EAT the weaker of their species (one species, even, the live young, in utero, eat their weaker womb-mates, I guess it's nature's way of toughening them up for the real world . . . (thanks, Discovery Channel Shark Week!)).

Click the title to go see the t-shirt. There's another shirt on this site, that, yeah, while I know it's "labeling" to think of short bus shirt wearers in these terms, it still brings me a sense of satisfaction, to think of; it says, "I see dumb people."

Overgeneralizing too, but hey, we all have our criteria for who fits into our social scene and who doesn't, and wearers of the short bus shirt make it that much easier for me to move on. Although I'd rather that I'd have to find out from conversation, and that there weren't people who'd spend their money on this degrading kind of shirt.

I wouldn't WEAR the dumb people shirt, but it's kind of an internal visceral reaction to seeing the other. Probably just my mother bear instincts.

*The Star Wars link goes to a pic of my main character; I used to dress my "toons" up in Wonder Woman outfits . . . what would a shrink say about that? Lol . . .

GAAK! Exxefor XR co-pay . . .

Edit: It's so late, that I mis-spelled Effexor. S'okay, I'm gonna leave it that way, it's funnier.

Well, hell.

I knew this med was $200 a mo. for 300mg a day (2 150mg), but I was hoping for like a $30 copay . . $72. OUCH!

At least the gabapentin 1200mg a day is only $10 a month . . . nice to have a generic.

The problem is, this med works, and I know it can be hard to find a med that does. So.

We'll figure something out; might be buying only 2 weeks at a time, for awhile (the mom'n'pop pharmacy we go to IS on the provider list; they have killer prices, too. Shoulda seen what Target wanted to charge for a week of pills . . . 'twas ridiculous!)

Lemme add this up:

$200 a mo for health insurance
$80-$100 a mo copay for 4-5 ologist visits, added together.
$72 a mo for Effexor XR
$10 a mo for gabapentin
Occasional copay for Xanax, and iatrist.
$382 in monthly $$. We can't afford that, lol! Once our huge credit card payment goes back to normal (September is last huge one, I think), the $180 we're saving from that will bring this total down to $202.
Well, my mysterious funding source did mention perhaps helping w/copays and maybe even utility bills . . . I need to meet with them, but I'd really rather stand on our own four (six) feet.
I don't like having to keep going on the good graces of someone else.
Still, the numbers just don't add up. There is NO WAY we can afford that $202 a month. None.
If they ever put thru dh's raise (I'm hoping for retroactive but betting not; and if it's not, they'd better get their tushies in gear because, in that case, we're losing money the longer they take to get to it; he qualified for it awhile ago, and they said they'd do it effective when he switched to perm employment . . . nope!!) that, I'm guessing, will add a minimum of $80 a month to the mix.
Which helps alot.

Anyway, maybe I shouldn't go into so much detail, but there it is. No wonder I'm under so much stress; not knowing how we're going to eat, or get mental health care, from day to day, from week to week, sucks.

Thanks for the box of food, Mom & Dad! We've been enjoying it.

I just gotta hang in here and pray.

Good thing we still qualify for free school breakfast and lunch for dd. So that's good.

Ah, I sound pathetic. I'm not begging for anything here, although I'm afraid it looks like it.

Just . . . well, it's so . . . I feel so trapped, and closed in and crushed and stuff. Can I cry on everybody's shoulder, please? Can I whine, a little? Oh, and I'll take some cheese with that, please! Hee hee.

We could, at MOST, free up $24 a month from other places. A pittance, really, and the things that goes for keep out of a LOT of trouble. Especially impulsivity wise, and bipolar wise, and stuff. Provides me with variety. We don't get a newspaper at all, either. Less than $1 a day, to keep me outta trouble, is worth it. I'll just eat less, if it comes to that. And I have, in the past, but haven't had to for more'n a week every great now 'n then. So I don't think that its unhealthy, anyway.

Cable modem is, well, it's how I stay in touch. Saves $$ on long distance, we almost never have long distance charges. It's not an option to get rid of; my support system is on here, too. Of which Barb is a great part!

Besides, end of January we'll get our tax return (we generally get W2's early and file early, and it gets deposited in about a week to 12 days or so, that early), and will be able to pay off, I think, a $100 a month bill. So that'll help too, and it's really not that far away. Sept, Oct, Nov, Dec, Jan.
I know I'm justifying and explaining, and I'm learning that I don't have to, but, right now, it's good for me to lay out all the issues. So, there they are.

Anyway, I have faith in the Lord, and we do what we can, and every now and then I am able to sell off some old crafting stuff or what-have-you and help out a little, financially, that way.

Obviously the selling jewelry thing isn't working, but I did know that having the Etsy shop was more just for friends who wanted to buy something, than for attracting some chance person off the web.

There's a guy who pays not much above my cost, for what I make, but it's been awhile and he still owes me a bit. It's a rather long, drawn out process, but at least it pays for the hobby, thus giving me something to do, and it's very sensory and distracting and soothing, and FUN!

Anyway, I hope there's some shoulders out there for me, and as I stretch my Effexor doses to half doses over the weekend, and get sick from that, just gimme a hug. Still, half a dose is better than none, and I should only be a little sick, instead of horridly sick as missing a dose or going cold turkey does to me.

Sleepy Me

Daughter Quote of the Day: (heard just before heading off to school) "I want a baby brother".

She's not old enough to think that working on that may be one of the activities her parents do while she's at school. Thank Goodness.

But WE are! 8^D.

Practice makes perfect . . . .

And it's JUST practice, for now.

Well.

I was Neurontin-sleepy today, so I spent much of the day in bed, relaxing and dozing.

Hope I can sleep tonight!! But I was SO SLEEPY! And besides that, I didn't feel . . . like there was . . . I don't know. I wasn't depressed, but rather just kind of on "pause", if that makes any sense . . . maybe a bit of a depressed dip, I'd say there was one thread that might have been that thinking, but at the same time I know I'm doing stuff lately, and making progress.

It was more like a, well, Pause. I did do something emotionally difficult today, and then processed it a bit as I lay there . . . it kinda sucks that other people won't/don't bring their full selves, or engage as much as I do, when discussing issues between us. I tried in various ways to get at certain things in a deeper way, and also tried to, by various discussion, to illustrate some things that I hoped she would come to understand . . . like that there is much more to me, and much more going on with me, than people can "see" . . . . . . Anyway, on one or two things, we got partway towards where I would have liked to have been, either on finding out more how she felt, in a less guarded way, or on what she got out of what I was saying . . . but then the rest of it, we didn't get very far, or rather, I didn't get very far.

And you know what?

That's okay. I was fully present in the conversation, and not being overbearing (I don't think; I know I can be) and yet, curious and asking from several different perspectives and angles, about some of the issues and feelings about them, to explore the issues between us. I'm proud that I did this, because if I hadn't, I'd be left wondering if I had engaged as well as I should, and tried to work on things between us as much as I should have. Instead, I'm left with a satisfaction that I think, I fairly politely (as far as discussing some issues that have caused hurt and offense could be done) discussed and explored things, and came back to some things repeatedly, and so I know that I did what I could. I am glad that I came back to some things repeatedly, so that I know I wasn't just being run over by her, either, whether or not that was her intent, that isn't my point or what I'm saying, though. Rather, that I pursued what I felt was important between us, and gave some things that were important to me good attention, and just because I'm not satisfied with her answers, with parts of our discussion, doesn't mean I'm not satisfied with how I interacted, and what I accomplished.

I accept that she is a different individual, with her own levels of comfort/discomfort about discussing issues, emotions, and relationships; that she will not necessarily be "as present" as I am, as unguarded as I'd hope, and as forthright as I was being. I did ask about some things in different ways, to try and get through some of these barriers, but, for the most part, they remained. That, too, is okay. That is her right, as her part of our friendship, although I am saddened by some of what I found out, and by her not engaging much on some issues, and basically not engaging at all on others. I am trying not to "mind-read", but given the issues involved, her interaction or lack thereof on those matters tends to reinforce those problematic (for me) attitudes that she has, in my mind.

It's okay; people can disagree. I can alter my interactions with her as I see fit, as I feel appropriate to incorporate those judgements on her part of me that I feel, believe, and KNOW to be unfounded, incorrect, and hurtful. I can choose to not trust her with types of experiences, with certain levels of disclosure, and with more than a light level of intimacy, relatedness, and expression of emotions.

Of course, that last paragraph might just be my "distancing" maneuver, but what do I do? Am I supposed to just continue the level of depth that I think appropriate in a friendship of this nature, KNOWING now some of the negative judgements and perceptions that she thinks are just fine to do to me? It IS MY choice of whom to trust, emotionally and otherwise, and not.

If I feel like less trust and depth is called for, then that is where I will go with it, and be. If that's classical distancing, well, sometimes less trust and depth is called for, and justifiable. And the only one I need to justify it to is me. (Although it WOULD and WILL be good to discuss in therapy; to get that benevolently neutral perspective, because it IS hard for me to sort things out when I'm in the middle of it.)

Anyway, Thanks for reading this Far.

He thought the milk bath joke was funny. It was the only one I could remember at the time!

Sara