In the aftermath of that night I overdosed, I’ve been hiding away as I deal with the wreckage. It’s been a few months and I still have a tremor and heart issues. My heart literally aches and it races when I change position. I’m also not able to sleep on my right side as I hear and feel the pulse in my right ear pounding. All I want in this life is to feel comfortable in my body, and if I could take back what I did I would. Sometimes I wish it had of killed me. I have suffered enough. Continue reading “Post-OD update”
Imagine a time when you were worried about something. Now, imagine that this feeling does not go away after the thing you were worried about is over. Instead your mind will find something else to be worried about. Imagine being in a perpetual state of dread and anxiety over anything and everything. That is what it’s like to have Generalised Anxiety Disorder (GAD). Continue reading “Anxiety and having a crush”
Even weeks after leaving that final session with my psychologist, I am still not sure what hit me. That session was so grotesque… the way she said she’d been speaking with colleagues about me and they all agreed that she should stop seeing me… the way she brought up all the times I’d been difficult during my private hospital stays to prove that I was indeed too “unstable” to work with. Apparently pulling a third person into the dynamic is a documented strategy used by “selfish individuals” to “comfort and protect their egos”, and “reinforce their sense of rightness or superiority”. I was left feeling ganged up on. All I had left to say to my psychologist as I left was “fuck you”. All I have left to say now is this quote by Booker T. Washington.
This is the card I sewed my therapist about two years ago. She got it framed and put it in her office. She has now callously discarded me, telling me I’m too “unstable” to work with, but I doubt she’ll take this down or return it to me. She will keep it up as she has no remorse. She may even keep it up as a trophy. I similarly spent six months working on a painting I gave to another therapist who did the same to me. I lose a little piece of myself each time. Continue reading “Thoughts on loss, life, and asexuality”
“But I know the difference
Between myself and my reflection
I just can’t help but to wonder
Which of us do you love?”
– Evanescence, “Breathe No More”
I often get told that I am easy to talk with. Strangers tell me all about their dark family secrets. They tell me I am a very nice person and I make them comfortable. But the truth is I don’t really know if it’s “me” they like, or a version of me created through trauma. Pete Walker talks about the “Four Fs”. When we cannot fight or flee, sometimes we freeze and sometimes we fawn, placating people by becoming who they want us to be to avoid further abuse. I wear a smile plastered to my face and I serenade people, ironically making them feel at ease when I am anything but. I am like a duck that seems calm but is furiously paddling away beneath the surface. Continue reading “Fawn”
It is not an easy night. It is 4AM and my grief is keeping me up like a little child. In fact, I believe it literally is a little child. My psychologist introduced me to Internal Family Systems and the idea that we have different “parts”. Within me are parts stuck at different ages. I didn’t always interact with my psychologist as a 31-year-old adult. I attached to her like a child attaches herself to a mother. Sometimes my young part(s) would not only hijack my emotions but they would hijack my behaviour. There was one session I spent on the floor playing with the toys in her office. I put some of her little soft animals in her plastic expandable ball (there is one for sale on Ebay here for reference) and rolled them around. I built block towers out of dominos, and then balanced my psychologist’s little toy hedgehog on top, very impressed that it did not collapse. My psychologist had two crochet otters called “Harry” and “Ginny”. One day when she took leave she let me keep one of them. She kept “Harry” and said she would carry him in her handbag wherever she went so that she wouldn’t forget me. They were like friendship charms. She said it was normally what she’d do for her children, but she trusted me and thought it might help. It did help. I kept “Ginny” by my bed and she was of great comfort, so much so that I had trouble relinquishing her when my psychologist returned. I gave “Ginny” back to her crying and then left abruptly. Continue reading “Sad”
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”
“Nobody gives an answerI’m just asking why?Just tell me why?Why it has to be like this”
Enigma, “Why”
I usually like listening to sad songs on YouTube, but all my favourite songs are too triggering for me right now. Last night I had a break down listening to “True Colours” by Cyndi Lauper even. It was the part of the video which showed the little girl (who I assume was the younger version of Cyndi). I feel like that little part of me came out sometimes with my psychologist. I showed her my true colours, all of me, but instead of caring for these parts, she turned her back on them in the end. Then tonight I listened to “No More “I Love You’s“” by Annie Lennox. This was even worse. The tender music video shows Annie holding hands with the different characters. It reminded me of the times my psychologist held my hand, and how I feel this ending is all my fault because still, after all the care she showed me, I did not get better. I was the most unrewarding client she’s probably ever had. For a long time I’ve felt like all I really need is something very human: just to be held and touched. But there are only a few people I can really enjoy this with. For instance, I hate my family touching me, and I don’t like to be touched by most men. Most of the time touch is an emotionally empty experience for me. I long to be touched but I hate it too. But I had developed a very intense bond with my psychologist, and there was still so much more I felt we could do together, such as experimenting more with touch. Touch, when done right, allows us to leave survival mode, and in another time, and in another place, a little you is experiencing what it’s like to feel safe. I am deeply scarred by the way my psychologist drew me in and then spat me out. She said she was committed to me and that she thought it would be a shame to end our relationship as we had so much history together. I trusted her, and then she ruthlessly ends our relationship without giving me any say over the matter. There are no words for the pain and sense of betrayal I feel. I have had to take diazepam tonight as I’ve been so distressed by all this.
hsphaven 