Therapy Thursday

Thankfully today was a light day.  I needed that.  Even though it was fairly light, I think it gave Dr. D a good deal of information about my late teens and early 20s.  There was a lot of talk about college and grad school.  I did touch on James, but I think she knew it wasn’t a good time.  And in retrospect she was right.  I don’t think I could have handled dealing with that full force.

Actually, the reason I brought up James was sexuality.  I have no feeling for men or women.  I’m not even sure if I know what love is.  It’s all very confusing.

In retrospect, I’m glad she turned the conversation away from the topic.  I think the look on my face was enough coupled with the fact I was already struggling and feeling quite down.

I think that’s all I’m going to blog about today.  There was other stuff that went on in that hour, but I’m not ready to put them out there for public consumption.  I need some more energy to deal with that than I have right now.

Therapy Monday

I wish I knew what to say about today.  We touched on a lot, including some anger I’ve been feeling lately.  I’m not comfortable with anger.  It scares me.  I’m afraid of being out of control like my mother.  And I know rationally that it’s silly.  I’m not my mother.  I’ve been told by multiple psychologists that I’m not a borderline like my mother.

Therapy leaves me exhausted.  If I didn’t have to do grocery shopping and pick up a prescription (that the psychiatrist neglected to leave for me after she said she would) I would have come home and taken a nap.  Which, in fact, I did after driving to the doctor’s office and the grocery store.  I tried reading, but couldn’t keep my eyes open.

I’m trying to challenge those automatic thoughts.  But that’s turning out to be one of the hardest thing I’ve ever done.  It’s like trying to learn to drive a stick after driving an automatic for years.  But I’m trying.  And I guess that’s the thing that counts.

I’ve gotta say, Dr. D is good.  She really patient.  She doesn’t feel the need to cover up the painful silences with talk.  She’ll let me sit for a bit with those uncomfortable feelings.  It’s hard, there’s no denying that.  However, this is the first time I’ve had that experience.  Feeling the emotions, raw and uncensored, isn’t the easiest thing in the world.  I’m hoping that maybe it gets better as time goes on.

Creating a Dialogue With Your Inner Young Child

Creating a Dialogue With Your Inner Young Child

From: Cathryn L. Taylor M.A. The Inner Child Workbook


1. What is her favorite food?

Fried chicken.  But only her grandmother’s chicken.

2. What is the activity she would most like to do?

Read.  She could read all day and all night.

3. Has she done this before? Is so , what happened? If not, ask why.

She reads all the time.  Her favorite book is still Green Eggs and Ham.  But now she can read it on her own.

4. Ask her to tell you about her fear of being blamed and criticized or of doing or saying something wrong.

She is always afraid of doing something wrong.  She’s terrified she’ll bring home a bad mark on a school paper even though she’s only in Kindergarten.  She’s terrified that she’ll be taken to the orphanage for real this time.  She’s afraid of messing up her dances.  She doesn’t want to disappoint Miss R.

5. Does she feel overly responsible? Why?

Always.  B was just born.  She’s supposed to take care of him when mom is drunk.

6. What does she need most from you?

She needs me to understand that she wasn’t a bad kid.  She was a good kid in a bad situation.


I’m exhausted now.  I’ll try to finish the remaining questions in the near future.




Punch Him

I saw my therapist last week.  I had been in so much pain, I was afraid to drive.  So, unfortunately, I had to ask my dad to drive me.

Instead of staying in the car or running errands, he decided to come into the office with me.  I was not pleased, but mostly I was scared that the therapist would want to have him in the session.  Irrational?  Probably.  But who ever said fear was logical?

So he’s sitting there when Dr. D called me in.  I saw this look in her eyes.  I almost freaked out.  I apologized that he was there and explained my fears.  She reassured me that no, she would make us have a joint session.  She actually said when she saw him she wanted to punch him.  That made me laugh.  But it scared me too.  I don’t know why.

Home Again. Home Again.

I was in the hospital for a week.  The voices.  The depression.  The anxiety.  The flashbacks.  They all just got to be way too much for me.

I don’t feel 100%.  In fact, I feel far from it.  I slept a lot while hospitalized.  I didn’t realize how exhausted I actually was.  Which, is kind of strange since I remember saying over and over to Dr. D that I was so tired.  However, since coming home, I’ve barely slept.  Hopefully, I can get some okay sleep tonight.

Not a whole lot was adjusted on the med front.  I’m going to wait until I see Dr. W to do that.  The doctor at the hospital upped my dosage of Haldol, which, in retrospect, was the most important thing.  He also started me on something called Minipress which is an old blood pressure drug that’s now being used to treat PTSD.  I’m surprised my insurance company filled it without a hassle since I’m already taking Inderal for anxiety.

I’m going to sign off for the day.  I’m starting to write in an offline journal about shit that goes on during therapy (definitely upping that to twice a week for a while and possibly doing an IOP).

Really Scared

As I wrote previously, my pdoc is worried about psychotic symptoms.  I saw her on Friday was was finally honest with her on how bad my mom’s voice had gotten.  I understand better what’s she concerned about (MDD with psychotic features versus Schizoaffective disorder).  It scares me how intense and persistent her voice has become.  I’m finding it harder to push it back.  In fact, I’m starting to randomly hear my dad’s voice (though I think those are more flashback-y).

I’m finding ti difficult to admit how bad things have gotten in the past two weeks or so.  The panic is almost constant.  The flashbacks are vivid and intense.  I’m unable to shower after dark and am trying to avoid sleep at night.  I’m having suicidal and self injury impulses regularly.  Mentally, I’m falling apart.  I wonder how much is related to starting back in therapy.  Even though I wanted to take it slow, it seems like the shit just tumbles out of my mouth.

So.  Back to pdoc.  She insisted this time on doing something about the voices.  I was too scared and tired to fight her.  I simply told her I didn’t want to take current generation atypical antipsychotics.  Thankfully she respected that.  She decided to start me on Haldol, which, honestly, scares the shit out of me.  But maybe that’s just my slightly over informed brain.  I think it would be easier not having taken psychopathology and psychopharmacology.  I was supposed to start on 1 mg Friday night.  However, the pharmacy didn’t even have Haldol in stock.  Plus they need to contact the doc because of a potential interaction with Celexa.  So instead of just being able to start it I’ve been battling anxiety over it the last two days.

Despite the intensity of the voices, I’m now having second thoughts about the Haldol.  I know it isn’t rational.  But having multiple days to stew about this (and there’s no guarantee I’ll get the prescription tomorrow, depends on if the pharmacy talks to the doc) hasn’t been good.

I’m scared and overwhelmed.  I’m worried that if things don’t improve I’m going to end up in the hospital.  But I am tired of putting on a brave face and pretending that I’m okay.  Nobody in my life except the psychiatrist and psychologist know how bad things have gotten.  It’s exhausting to have to put up a front all the time.  I wonder what’s going to happen to me in the near future.

Horrible Dream

I had a horrible dream this morning.  I was dreaming that I had had a baby.  It was the most independent and easy going baby.  She basically came out of the womb self sufficient.  I was a horrible mother.  I neglected the baby.  I didn’t want anything to do with her.

Not too hard to see where this comes from.

No Rest For the Weary

Sleep is not coming tonight.  I slept for about 45 minutes and woke up out of a nightmare.  I have extra Trazodone I could use.  But honestly, I don’t really want to sleep.  It brings nothing but pain lately.

Add muscle spasms from hell into the mix.  Can we say fun?

I’m sitting here in the living room and the tears just keep rolling down my face.  This is the first time in a long time that I’ve cried.  Really cried.

I’ve been up for a good two hours.  I think I’ll go downstairs and try to sleep on the couch.  Beds are triggering me like they used to.  I’ll probably bring it up with my psychiatrist when I see her in a week and a half.  I’m sure she’ll basically say therapy (which I’m working on).

I’m half tempted to call mobile crisis because I’m having serious SI urges.  I don’t know if talking to someone will make any difference though.

Okay.  Signing off for the night morning.

Itty Bitty Baby Steps

After working on it for like a month, I’ve finally called a psychologist.  I tried doing the Psychology Today route.  Too confusing since my insurance is administered by X company, but because it’s Medicaid, people who take X don’t necessarily take my form of X.  Today I worked up the courage to call X company directly and get some names.  I took those names and Googled.  Luckily one of the people specializes in trauma.  I left a message on voice mail.  Thankfully, she’s out of the office until Monday and I can quit stressing over it until then.

Earlier, I saw useless GP.  Remarkably, he wasn’t all that useless today.  I guess it helps if you go in focused and only asking for one med change.  A few weeks ago, I started Couch to 5K.  I messed up my previously messed up ankle.  So after resting for almost a week didn’t do anything I made the appointment.  Now, all of this could have been taken care of last week, but drunk family member fell down in her driveway and I had to take her to the ER and wait around while they scanned her head.  I barely know this person, but nobody else who could do it was around.  I swear, I think I’m going to start using the phrase “Not my monkey.  Not my circus.” around my family.

So I see GP.  He orders an x-ray basically to cover his butt should the 6 weeks of PT he prescribed not work and he wants an MRI.  I guess having a GP who also does sports medicine is handy.  He says I can continue walking, but no more than a half mile or so and no C25K period.

He also gave me a referral to a different rheumatologist to evaluate for seronegative arthritis.  Despite lab results and symptoms and joint pain responding to steroids, current rheumatologist doesn’t think there’s anything else going on aside from fibromyalgia.

Oh, and I get to increase the Vitamin D I’ve been taking because I’m still deficient despite taking a standard 2000 IU a day.

Only other thing is I had a sleep study done.  I wish they’d hurry up and send the results.  I had a split study, where they monitored the first part and then put me on a CPAP machine the second part.  I’m guessing the fact they did the CPAP means I had a significant number of apnea events.

Psychiatrist is being a bit pushy, but I don’t expect less.  She’s ready to call up Company X and go off on them because they want to do her job.  She’s the one pushing therapy.  I think things have lifted a bit because as I said above, I’ve been able to deal with looking into it.  She also wants me to go back to the NAMI group I used to attend.  But I haven’t been there for like 10 years.  There’s a meeting tomorrow night.  But I don’t know.  I guess I’m minimizing things again.  I get all “But it isn’t that bad” all the time, despite evidence to the contrary.

And no, dear psychiatrist, my mother’s voice isn’t going away.  It’s been in my head my entire life.  And no, I’m not psychotic.  I think we’ll have to agree to disagree.