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Zoe

A founder of hsphaven, Zoe hopes to create a space for HSP writers to come together and share their diverse passions and expertise through writing. This has been an important outlet for Zoe over the years; she fondly recalls writing stories as a child at recess and lunchtime and sharing them with her classmates. Some of Zoe’s areas of interest include mental health, healing and self-development. She has a background in psychology/social science. In her spare time Zoe enjoys being in Nature, op shopping, vegan food, music, and art and craft.

Shock and sensory meltdown

“Cover my eyes
Cover my ears
Tell me these words are a lie
It can’t be true
That I’m losing you
The sun cannot fall from the sky”

Right now I am listening to “Tears of an Angel” by Ryan Dann. The singer apparently wrote this song about their 4-year-old niece who was dying from a brain tumor, but I find a lot of the lyrics give voice to the shock I feel over my psychologist leaving me. In our meeting it took me a while to realise what she was saying to me. She was telling me I need someone, or something, that can give me more support.

“I’m not going to be that person,” she said in a firm voice.

I still didn’t realise what she was saying.

My family and I thought the meeting was about expanding my supports, not withdrawing support.

I understand if a psychologist doesn’t feel qualified to help a client so they refer them on to someone else. But to do this after 4 years? 4 years of building trust, of building a relationship, of building attachment? Continue reading “Shock and sensory meltdown” →

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A rotten day (literally)

nothing

This meme would be a good summary of my day, though it doesn’t quite capture how distressing doing nothing can be. It was a 39 degree day and my dad and I were going to go to the beach, but that never eventuated. Instead this is what my day looked like:

I wake up at 4pm and turn on my laptop, as I usually do when I wake up. A news article pops up: “Doctor shares what happens to our bodies moments before we die”. The doctor apparently wants to reduce people’s fear around death, but the article does a pretty crap job of that. There is absolutely nothing transcendental or comforting about the article. Lets just say if you don’t already fear death you probably will when you get to the end of this article. So that is how I begin my day… staring into the fate of myself and those I love: complete oblivion. Continue reading “A rotten day (literally)” →

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Just want a normal life

When I was in hospital I kept saying I just want a normal life. While people around me are building careers and starting families, I’ve spent my 20s depressed, distressed and in and out of hospital. It is continuing into my 30s now. I can’t see myself ever having children and I don’t know if I will ever work either. Just when I try to build a better life for myself, such as study, another trauma happens. A therapist I’ve come to rely on leaves, and suddenly I am sliding down the biggest snake in a snakes and ladders game. I drop out of study, I can no longer play badminton and I’m right at the bottom of the board again. It has often felt like there’s some oppressing force conspiring to keep me stuck. Continue reading “Just want a normal life” →

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Grief: a rollercoaster

““I thought this was more,” I whispered low, 
Hoping he’d stay, hoping he’d show. 
But his response, like a dagger, cut deep, 
“No one stays, my dear, not in this world .”

With those words, reality crashed in, 
My heart shattered, my hopes pinned. 
For what we shared was just a game, 
A situationship, without a name.”

Poestoryporium, ‘Whispers of Love’

I don’t know if it’s fully sunk in that my psychologist, my confident, has left me. Whenever something happens in my life- good or bad- I automatically turn to her. I go to write her an email, or I store it in a little bottle in my mind for our next session, only to remember that she is gone. It really does feel like a nightmare I keep expecting to wake up from. I never thought she would leave me and I’d have to go through this hell all over again. I thought she was different. I trusted her. Now she has left me with what I can only liken to phantom limb syndrome. Continue reading “Grief: a rollercoaster” →

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Self-worth

crumbs

This quote is from a Facebook page called “Dreaming on Two Wheels”. Is it just what I needed to hear this evening, and I wanted to share it in case it’s what somebody else needs too. Continue reading “Self-worth” →

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Today’s update: finding myself

Every day I get urges to kill myself. Last night I called Lifeline. I actually found the lady who picked up really helpful. She was horrified by my psychologist’s behaviour and said she shouldn’t be practicing. Something I’ve learnt about Lifeline is they are there for anyone in distress and needing someone to talk to, you don’t have to be suicidal. Today when I woke up I called Blue Knot, a helpline for those with childhood trauma. They offer free, weekly 45 minute counselling sessions, though it’s a different counsellor each time. I’ve been meaning to check them out. I didn’t find the lady as empathetic and am not sure I will call them again next week.

I’ve been thinking a bit about my combination of personality disorders today. Each personality disorder is basically a defense strategy we develop to deal with trauma and pain. I have what might seem like an odd combination: BPD and Schizoid Personality Disorder. It is like having two people in my head arguing.

“You should have listened to me and never got involved with that psychologist”, Schizoid brags.

“I was right all along. Psychologists are dangerous. Attachments are dangerous. The only person you have and can rely on is yourself.”

But Borderline has a real need for attachment. The monochrome life of the Schizoid is unbearable.

The worst thing for Borderline is abandonment and loss. The worst thing for Schizoid is contact and suffocation. The two are constantly at war, and I struggle to find a middle ground. Continue reading “Today’s update: finding myself” →

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The White Rabbit

Run rabbit run rabbit run run run

Run away from the sound of my gun.

You’ve decided you are done

Sustaining my heartbeat like a drum.

I thought you’d save me like God’s own son

But like Jesus’s cross I weighed a tonne

And you never loved me, yet along I was strung

Holding my hand like you were my rung

Acting like a surrogate mum.

Until I realised that you really stung

For you won my trust, then left me in a place that saw no sun.

Stuck in Wonderland, this is no fun.

I don’t know what’s real, and what’s imagine.

Screaming, drinking, what have I become?

So run rabbit run rabbit run run run

To your next victim, your previous one forgotten.

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Dark Night of the Soul

“I am tattered, I am tired I am worn and uninspired. They say You don’t give us more than we can handle, but I’m right on the edge.” Sparrows Rising – Father Help Me

Life likes to beat me when I’m already on the ground. As if losing my psychologist of four years wasn’t enough, I am now locked out of my Facebook account. It says the password is incorrect. Then I select the option to get a code sent to my email address to reset my password. Sometimes I don’t even get an email, and when I do get the code and type it in it says “The number that you’ve entered doesn’t match your code. Please try again.” I have gone round and round in circles it is maddening. Apparently Facebook crashed recently, but most people have been able to get their accounts back already.

I don’t know why the universe is doing this to me. Maybe it is a harsh way of getting me to shed all that is no longer serving me, like the leaves on the trees will soon start to fall as autumn arrives. I was actually thinking recently of deactivating my Facebook account. I don’t like supporting a platform that is run by robots and suppresses freedom of speech. I also felt the need to withdraw as I grieve my psychologist, or the person I thought she was anyway. But I was addicted to Facebook. It feels like all my coping mechanisms are being ripped away from me. Continue reading “Dark Night of the Soul” →

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This is what being abused by a psychopath feels like

I wake up at 3pm, still nauseous from the alcohol I drank yesterday. My head feels like it’s been rammed into a brick wall and I have a cough. Don’t tell me I’m sick again? I’ve only just got over the flu.

It’s 5pm. Looks like it’s too late to go to the post office and send the badge someone ordered from my Etsy store last week. Whenever I get an order, I am no longer excited. “Shit, I can barely stand to be alive, let alone get this order sorted” is what I think. Thankfully I already have the badge made up, so I just need to post it.

It is 6pm and I reluctantly leave my bedroom. I’ve been putting it off as I can’t stand to be around anyone, and I definitely do not want to be asked how I am because the answer is always the same: horrible. I just go through different degrees of horribleness. Today it is particularly horrible.

It has been 8 days since my psychologist dumped me. I haven’t showered all week and clumps of knots are forming in my hair. Continue reading “This is what being abused by a psychopath feels like” →

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