I went to the dentist today because I’ve been having jaw pain. It’s most likely TMJ from clenching my jaw and grinding my teeth. Yay. Just add it to the list of crap in my life.
The reason for the title is that I’m a huge wuss. I hate going to the dentist. I’m down right phobic, actually. I ended up getting a referral to the local dental school to check out a root canal I had a while back. She also filled a small cavity. I hate the balloon lip feeling I get from the Novocaine. I’ll eat some mac and cheese for dinner because mac and cheese always makes me feel better.
So, next week I go in for a cleaning. In theory, that is. I haven’t decided if I’m going to keep the appointment. Phobias are irrational things. And even through I know it’s only a cleaning, that doesn’t always help. Maybe I’ll talk to Dr. D about it tomorrow. Sigh.
I feel empty in side. I can’t say I even feel depressed anymore because that would involve, well, feeling. I feel nothing now. I want to bury my head in the sand, hopefully suffocating on the sand while I’m at it. Seriously, all I want to do is sleep. I guess it could be the days getting shorter. More though, I think, is exhaustion. It literally takes too much energy to feel anything but nothing.
On the other hand, nothingness is a feeling. Or isn’t it? Is the lack of feeling like I’ve been assuming feel nothing or not? It all sounds very philosophical.
The trip to see the new rheumatologist. Well, that was a bust. Again, a diagnosis of fibromyalgia. Nothing auto-immune, though I wonder if she was just blowing me off. So I go back to original rheum and deal with her. I wish I could say that I wasn’t taken seriously, but I guess I was. I don’t know anymore. I’m so tired of fighting the pain. She did change the anti-inflammatory I’m on. She took me off the Meloxicam and put me on something called Nabumetone. Never heard of it, but it seems to be in the same class as Meloxicam and their ilk.
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.
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.
hugged your inner child today?
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.
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.
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).
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.
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.