It gets better, but never really goes away...

For many reasons, winter is a hard time for me. I do believe I struggle with Seasonal Affective Disorder to some degree plus all my prior breakdowns have happened during the winter months so that makes me absolutely dread this time of year.

I've added a new trauma to contribute to my stressors during this time as well: the dentist.

After a very traumatizing appointment this summer that resulted in a 20 minute episode of hyperventilation followed by my body finally shutting down and passing out, I have had some issues these last few weeks with nightmares and flashbacks as my upcoming cleaning approaches. 

Already being at a greater disadvantage this time of year plus dealing with a new issue has made it extremely challenging to stay on top of my moods. I had a couple days last week where, for the first time in years, I thought about suicide. Not as a means to an end but more as a means to let everyone know how done I am with this struggle. 

It's so frustrating because even as good as things are, it appears as though these issues are never going to go away. It's like cancer. Sure I'll go into remission, but it's only a matter of time before it comes back right? 

I haven't needed to meet with V much at all over the last 18 months. I see her maybe every 2 months unless something pops up that needs to be dealt with. I met with her last week after a series of nightmares that left me reeling. I was barely keeping it together at school and was a mess thinking about my upcoming appointment. As always she keeps me grounded in reality and helped me come up with a plan for next week but no matter what I do, there are always side effects of situations like this.

My anxiety was triggered to the point that I was staving off panic attacks for a series of 4 days. Aside from the dentist experience, I haven't had a panic attack in almost 18 months. When I get this upset, my past always slithers back in. Right on cue, I've been fighting some triggers and feeling the weight of shame return. 

It's so defeating to feel these things again. It's a lonely, horrible place to be stuck in your mind. Stuck in the past. Remembering why you are different than most of your friends. Why you can't be in relationships. Why you can't trust men. Then it makes you view life differently. Suddenly all you see are the people around you in love, the babies being born, the lives being lived. The flip side to that is then all you see is references and triggers to rape, abuse and fear. It's an awful way to live day to day. 

I toggle back and forth between keeping up the fight against letting this consume me (it's exhausting to constantly battle) and giving into the demons. So far they haven't won. We'll see if it stays that way. 

Good Luck With That

I know myself well enough to know when my body is telling me to pay attention to something my mind is ignoring. I get tense. I get anxious.

My body is screaming at me. I logged on tonight in search of relief but I feel as though the opposite is about to happen. I'm holding my breath. That only happens when I'm reaching the brink of a panic attack. It's like I'm afraid to move, lest breathing throw me over the edge.

I'm not good enough. I'm just not. Why did I ever think I would be good enough? Like if I worked hard enough it would erase who I had become? Yeah right. I'm always going to be just as messed up in the future as I was/am... pick your tense. Past? Present? FOREVER.

I laugh at myself. Silly, stupid girl. You think you can do this? You are but a child yourself. You still view yourself as a 13 year old. You still seek approval in the most pathetic of ways. You still carry the black mark of abuse. You struggle with depression. You struggle with intrusive thoughts. You struggle with self-harm.

And you want to be someone's mother?

Yeah. Good luck with that.

Can You See My Secret?

I had an interesting experience this weekend.

I am required to get a certain number of training hours outside of school each year to maintain my certificate. Most of them I get during the summer, but I normally don't knock them all out in the summer and have to take a Saturday to finish them all up. There wasn't a whole lot offered that really pertained to me, but I did see one that caught my eye titled "Addiction/Abuse". Of course it was to be centered on how to help students who are suffering or come from families who deal with that, but I thought it might be helpful.

Knowing that V has done trainings for my school district before, I figured she was leading this one too since it is right up her alley. I talked to her about it and sure enough, she was going to be the presenter for it. I asked her what she thought about me attending, and she said it would be totally fine. I did a little thinking about it before I signed up, but decided that since nothing else that was offered was really on target with what I needed professionally, that I could go see her presentation and learn things both professionally and personally.

We talked a little bit in my session Thursday about what to expect as far as how she would interact with me (basically she'd pretend she didn't know me, keep the eye contact at a minimum, etc) and an idea of what she'd be talking about to help prepare me for anything triggering. I left feeling a little nervous after hearing some of the things she was going to talk about, but knew it was because I heard it with my "therapy brain" and it would not be the same when I was hearing it with my "professional brain".

So Saturday I walked into the training and signed in, picked a spot to sit and immediately got so self conscious. I felt like I was hiding this huge secret and shouldn't be there. We went around and introduced ourselves and when she got to me, it was so strange knowing that we were both pretending not to know each other on purpose. She started her presentation and I was shocked to find that I was almost immediately withdrawing without even having anything triggering me. I struggled to focus on what she was talking about. I struggled even with looking up at the screen because it was too close to where she was standing.

I spent a lot of the presentation staring at the handouts, the ground, my table, my nails... anything to avoid making eye contact. I felt like I did for so long after I was abused. I couldn't look people in the eye for the longest time. It was like that simple act meant that everyone could see what had happened to me and what I thought. I haven't felt like that in a long time. Like I was hiding some secret that everyone could see on my face. And I was hiding a secret...

Not only that, but I felt like I was a fly on the wall watching V discuss all these things, many of which pertained to me and my life, with all these strangers. It felt like I was watching all these people learn about my deepest and darkest secrets thinking it was about random people, but I really knew it was about me. And hearing V speaking the words made it stir inside of me differently.

I never realized how much her voice is connected with feeling things for me. Any time I approach things that require me to feel anything, she's there supporting me, pushing me and talking to me. Her voice has become one of those things you don't even realize is so embedded in your brain. It's like how a smell triggers a certain memory, I found that her voice triggers certain feelings. It was all very overwhelming. I didn't really take much from the presentation because I had all of this swirling through my head.

V sent me an email today asking how I was after the presentation. She picked up on the fact that I was having a hard time and wanted to know if she could do anything to help. I basically told her what I wrote about here. I'll be interested to see what she says in response.

Weird weekend.

Finding Joy and Peace

It has been hard to find the joy in anything lately. Life has been one hard confrontation after another. One painful truth after another. The holidays have compounded my normal depression and anxiety having all these new emotions on the surface that have rarely, if ever, been a part of my daily life.

It's very hard to not let these new emotions consume me. They are very powerful and I have no experience in allowing myself to feel them when it's safe to, and turn them off when it's not. It is scary to feel like you are being dragged around with no control. It makes me want to run back to my "comfortable" place, where emotions are pushed under the rug and life is just about going through the motions.

I find myself praying for peace more than anything else these days. Will it ever come?

200th Post

A few months ago when I was throwing around ideas of what my 200th post would be about, I would have told you it was going to focus on my 2 year anniversary with A (coming up in just about 2 weeks), the growth that I've made, how happy and hopeful I was, etc. I wanted to focus on the positives.

But the sequence of events that has been the last 6 weeks of my life has left me barely hanging on, dodging the potholes of depression, dealing with the death of my grandmother, the consequences of my actions at work, the upcoming anniversary of the last time my life felt like this and my birthday (which on any normal day is a huge trigger for me). I've been fighting social anxiety tooth and nail, having to force myself to go places and be around people. I have been having small panic attacks come out of nowhere and wrestle me to the ground for a few minutes, then leave me broken for the rest of the day. I have had a horrible time sleeping, and the times I do get to sleep I have been woken up by nightmares and panic attacks that make it hard to go back to sleep. The last week has been the worst. Ever since I called my pdoc and asked her to transfer care back to my gendoc. What a jinx that was. A and I have been discussing my absolute aversion to my birthday and how anxious it makes me to even think about. I left her office Tuesday feeling extremely agitated physically... very on edge. I had finally worked my way back to feeling a bit better, then Saturday happened. This stupid "seriously-how-much-of-a-dramatic-child-can-you-be" trigger sent me into an emotional tailspin and I resulted to purposely inflicting pain upon myself. No blades or razors, but I have a feeling telling A on Tuesday is going to result in me having to find a new plan for treatment. I figured this would happen sooner or later since I was "forced" to push it to the side and it never got dealt with. And now it's showing it's ugly head again and I don't even care. I WANT to do it. I want to have that power again.

At a time when I have had such little control and power over so many aspects of my life at one time, I can control this. And the pull for me to go buy some new razors (since I threw mine away in May to get rid of temptation) is intoxicating. *sigh* Happy 200th post, what great growth I have made...

Tick Tock, Kill the Clock!

This very well might be the war cry of my household. TICK TOCK, KILL THE CLOCK!

Time for me is almost always anxiety producing, as it is one of the only things, no matter how hard I try, that I cannot control. So whenever there is something in my life that has a specific element of time attached to it, my mind commits it to memory and it is then used to constantly harass myself and take on unwanted burdens.

The biggest example of this in my life is my absolute hatred of age/birthdays. I can't stand them. To me it is just another reminder of being a year older and having gotten nothing accomplished. Sure I have a great job, home, car, etc. but the only thing anyone ever seems to care about is if I'm dating anyone. Truth be told, I care about that too, but just not as much as everyone else seems to. So adding another year to my age only reminds me of the fact that I haven't yet accomplished the burning question in everyone's mind. This hinting and prodding from my family my entire life has ingrained this idea that if things aren't done by a certain time then I'm just not good enough.

So in almost every aspect of my life, I tend to put these crazy deadlines on myself because I want to feel accomplished by completing them. Yet most of the time feel like a failure because I can't. I made a list of things about 6 months ago that I wanted to be able to say/do/feel by my next birthday (coming up in about 3 months, ugh) and I don't even feel close to getting half of them done. I'll be lucky to accomplish one. Makes me dread my birthday even more.

So with only about a week left of my break, I've been telling myself that I have to have everything figured out and "be better" by then. Whatever that means. I'm starting at a new location, with all new people and new responsibilities this year, which puts me in the dark about many things. Before I was able to go into work knowing who I could trust and rely on, who I worked well with, who to stay away from, what my schedule was, etc. Now I know nothing. And having that out of control feeling at work is not something I am used to. Work is my safe place. Knowing now that work is not going to be as safe as it has in the past, I'm using time to try and push my personal life into control by giving myself this deadline to "get better." Hah. It's been almost 2 years with A and while I have made such improvements, I'm not fully healed yet. What makes me think that I can expect that of myself by the end of next Sunday?

I know I can't meet these crazy deadlines I put upon myself, but it doesn't stop me from making them. And with everyone one I fail to meet, it makes me hate time even more.

The Next Step

My threshold for anxiety has been much lower lately. The slightest thing sends my heart racing, pushes me toward hyperventilation. It is a stark reminder of the constant anxiety and panic I lived in not too long ago. I don't ever want to go back to that again.

While sitting in the waiting room today waiting for my 2nd session with A, I had convinced myself that I had crossed some sort of line with her on Tuesday and there was going to be another punishment handed out. Add to the fact that she was 15 minutes behind and I had all but convinced myself that was a sign and she was going to drop me as a patient.

I really am my own worst enemy sometimes...

Of course I was overreacting and actually had a very good session. I apologized to her about my behavior earlier in the week. That normally is not me, but as I tried to explain to her, this situation is making me feel extremely vulnerable and apparently I get a little snarky when I feel that way.

Something has been oddly settling for me knowing that this boundary cannot be compromised and that I no longer have to constantly be thinking of a way to outsmart her and get my own way. It's freeing, really. What I have to decide now is which path I am going to take. This is one of the very few times where something is black or white. Ironic, seeing as a lot of my work with A is trying to learn to see the gray in life!

This past weekend when I was feeling so depressed, I collapsed into bed in tears, and began praying. Please, God, give me the strength to keep going. Give me the strength to do whatever it is I need to do to feel better. Help me to see the path that you have paved for me and the steps I need to take to stay on it. Help me to be open to whatever change comes my way.

The next morning I woke up and had my answer. My next step. Just like that. And it was definitely a step that I had avoided in the past and was hesitant to embrace at first. And there have already been bumps in trying to take this step. I should find out for sure tomorrow what the final outcome is on even being able to take this step.

I can't pray enough that this works out in my favor.

The Knock at the Door

I haven’t felt such anxiety in a very long time.

I was shaking.

The knock at the door might as well have been a gunshot. It triggered an even deeper anxiety.

I buried my head in my hands. I spent almost the whole appointment like this, crying, hyperventilating or shaking. I looked up on occasion to read her face. To make sure she wasn’t disgusted with what she was hearing.

“Hey sweetie. What’s going on?”

“I… I… “

“Is everything OK?”

“No. It’s not OK.”

“OK, tell me what’s going on.”

“I don’t think I can do this.”

“Do what?”

“Tell you what has been going on. The only reason I’m here is because it kept my counselor from putting me in the hospital.”

“Was she afraid you were going to hurt yourself?

“Yes.”

“Did you want to?”

“Yes.”

“Did you have a plan?”

“Yes. I had to leave work Friday because things had gotten so bad so fast. I don’t know why this is happening again.”

“When did you start feeling this way?”

“It started getting worse on Wednesday.”

“Was there something specific that triggered it?

“Surgery. When I found out in March that I was going to need surgery, it was a blessing. It gave me the chance to stop focusing on what I was doing in counseling and focus on that instead. Then when surgery was over I just didn’t want to go back to all that hard work. Before all of this things were getting better and now I feel like I’m slipping back to where I was 18 months ago. The panic attacks have come back, I’ve been having nightmares and these awful things that feel like dreams that I cannot wake up from, but I’m awake during them. I just want it to stop.”

“Hun, we need to see about getting you some more help. You aren’t safe this way. This is eating you up. I can see it right in front of me. Your body can't handle much more of this.”

“No. I don’t want any more help. I’m already going to counseling. That’s enough. I’m not going to the hospital. I won’t do anything else.”

“What does your counselor say?”

“She wants me to take medication. But I don’t want to do that. I just can’t.”

“Why can’t you? It will make you feel better. I know you can’t see it now, but anything you can do to help yourself feel better is going to be worth it.”

“I don’t want to have to rely on medication. I took Lexapro last year when this happened the first time and it worked fine, I guess. It made me very numb. Everything was always fine. No emotions. It made it harder for me to focus on the work I needed to in counseling because I wasn’t able to feel as much. I saw a psychiatrist once and it was awful. I won’t do that again.”

“What was awful?”

“I don’t know this person. I don’t trust them. I’ve been coming to you for over 4 years and haven’t ever been able to tell you what’s happened. I’ve tried before, but I just couldn’t do it.”

“Why can’t you?”

“Because it’s too awful. I don’t want people to know.”

“Sweetie, you need to tell me what happened. I’ve heard everything. I promise it is not going to surprise or shock me. I’m here to help you. That’s my job is to take care of you. You can trust me.”

“After my grandpa died something inside of me “snapped”. I just couldn’t hide anymore.”

“What were you trying to hide from?”

“My childhood.”

“It’s OK. You can tell me what happened.”

(insert sobbing, shaking, hideous quiet here)

“My dad’s friend sexually abused me.”

“How long did this go on?”

“I was 13. He was living with my dad after my parents divorced. I told my parents what he did to me.”

“What happened to him?”

“He didn’t go to jail. I just couldn’t testify against him. He got probation. But after that my parents pretended it didn’t happen. I wasn’t allowed to talk about it.”

“So you never got any support or counseling afterwards?”

“No.”

“Honey, I am so sorry that happened. So you said this was first triggered by your grandfather’s death? That is very common. I’ve seen it quite a bit with a few of my other patients. It’s not surprising that the surgery triggered this again for you. Your body has been through a lot lately. Please, will you let me help you?”

“Help how? I don’t want to be put on medication. I don’t want to rely on that for the rest of my life.”

“No. Not for the rest of your life. Lots of people come off of their medication. We just need to get you better now. You can’t stay in the state you are at. I can see how much this is eating away at you. I won’t let it do that. Will you let me prescribe you something just to help you through this? I promise it’ll be so small you probably won’t even notice you’re taking anything. Will you do that for me?”

(defeated nod)

“Just promise me that you’ll take it for the next two weeks. I want to see you back here then and we’ll talk again. Seriously. I’m going to hunt you down in two weeks. (laugh) We’ll get you past this. Things will go back to how they were before. I promise I’ll get you there.”

All in all, my doctor spent almost 30 minutes with me. I couldn’t have asked for this appointment to go any better. Every time I got the courage to look up at her, I was met with a face that showed concern, caring and sympathy. I couldn’t have confided in her if she wasn’t someone who had those qualities. Part of me is glad she knows now, because she’ll really be able to understand the stressors in my life and how it affects my overall health. The other part of me wishes she still didn’t know. It already feels like this has taken over my entire life. Having another person monitor me feels like more pressure.

I left her office in a complete daze. I’m surprised I could remember so much of this appointment. Normally when I am this ramped up, I don’t remember what happened. My anxiety right now is maxed out. I’m sluggish, but yet my body is one door slam away from jumping out of its skin. I just want this to go away. I have to go back to work tomorrow and it’d be nice if I don’t feel so worn down. Counseling is going to do enough of that.

I sent A an email on Saturday pleading with her to understand why I broke one of the parameters of the contract she put together for me (cutting). I didn’t want to sign it because I didn’t think I could live up to that part. I also didn’t feel I had a choice. It was either sign her contract or go to the hospital. And I wasn’t about to do the latter. I don’t know what type of reply I was expecting back from her, but I ended up lashing out at her. I was so frustrated with her, with myself, with this entire god-forsaken situation that instead of appreciating the one person who is there to help me, I took it out on her. And now I have to face her Tuesday. Fantastic. Someone tell me how a little pill is supposed to help with that.

The Trouble With Therapy Is...

Thankfully I'm back to work this week. (Yes, I really did just write that) I'm finding that the schedule is something that benefits me more than just having time to wander around with no plans. The aloneness and silence can be a detriment.

I've been functioning with a higher anxiety level lately, waking up a few times in the past week in full blown panic attacks, for no apparent reason. They weren't flashbacks or nightmares, just random occurrences of panic. It's rather unsettling, but there really isn't much I can do about it. I have a feeling that the surgery is a big part of it.

As I've gotten back on my normal schedule, I've been thinking a bit about how much therapy drives my life.

I think about therapy a lot. My week starts off with "OK, I can get through Monday because I get to see A tomorrow. One day. I can make it if it gets bad." Then, "Whew, it's Tuesday. No anxiety today because I have therapy after work." Wednesday, Thursday and Friday are generally tough days because I see them as only obstacles, not something that can be enjoyable. Things tend to affect me more, cause higher anxiety, and trigger me easier if they fall on these days. I feel trapped and alone. Generally Saturday and Sunday's are OK because it is the weekend, which means Monday is close.

My weeks work on this cycle. EVERY week.

I never get to enjoy my time because I am constantly wishing away the days for the next Tuesday to arrive. I can't wait for that hour. I finally have found someone that I feel safe talking to these hidden, dark, scary things with and I hate that I only have an hour to do this, and then have to wait so long to get a chance again.

I often wonder if that is normal. Am I the only one?

Ready or Not

I've been wondering what to blog about for my 100th post in 2009. I didn't want something trivial, but something that really spoke to those who read this blog and something that really came from within.

I've been somewhat disconnected these last two weeks, focusing more on getting through the last week of work, then heading out to spend time with my dad and stepmom, all the while having to get over the fact that my sister couldn't come with me. I got stuck in the vicious cycle of "should" statements and guilt, followed by bouts of entitlement.

"I should be journaling like A asked."

(Guilt)

"But I don't want to. I've earned a week off where I am not constantly observing and analyzing my every thought and emotion."

And repeat. I'm not sure if my entitlement is warranted or if it my denial finding more clever ways of surfacing. Either way, I didn't journal a single day since I last saw A. I never really felt I had anything to journal about until Friday, when my sister picked me up at the airport. She hesitantly told me that she and her BF were patching things up (after a nasty break-up 6 months ago ending a 5 year relationship). This really took me off guard. I don't approve of her getting back together with him because I don't think he will change, but I didn't say anything to her that made her aware of my disapproval. I know she already seeks my approval, so I don't want to make her feel guilty for making choices in her life. She is an adult.

That being said, I could not let it go. I obsessed over it all weekend. Why is she doing this? More so, why do I care so much? Of course I care because she is my sister and I don't want her to get hurt, but this was something more. It took me a while to put my finger on it.

Envy. How green it is.

However unhealthy her relationship with him is, she has someone who cares about her. She has someone she calls her best friend and can talk to about anything. She is getting that back, and it was a sharp slap in the face. I've never had that. Of course, I've never been in a place where I could get that, but as scary as it is for me to acknowledge, I think I'm ready for that now. I'm ready for the best friend and confidante. I'm ready for the trust and emotional connection. Realizing this has brought out my old friend anxiety.

I am not ready for the physical connection.

I think about it and it almost brings me to tears. It made me want to cut this weekend. It has been the number one source of pain and unanswerable questions since Friday... and I don't think it is going away any time soon.

Can't I have a normal Wednesday?!

So I was expecting this week to be better than most, because I didn't have a session scheduled since she is out of town. My moods have been good, especially with how easy work is this week...

So today started with 2nd period exam (from 8:40-11:30), and since I don't have 2nd period I planned to run up to my OBGYN to start the Gar.dasil series before I get too old (26 is the cut-off). Got there, got the shot (which really does not feel good) and got up to leave. The nurse asked me if this was the last shot in the series for me and I told her it was the first. So she was like "Oh, you better sit down to make sure you don't have any reaction to it." OK, cool, sounds like a good idea to me. So I'm just sitting there waiting and all of a sudden I get nauseous... like the feeling you get when your blood sugar crashes, then I start getting heart palpitations and my BP skyrockets (we're talking like 150/120). It is extremely disorienting, but it has happened before. I've been to my doctor, she's run an EK.G and MR.I and everything is normal. So I don't really know if it's caused by the shot or not. The nurse comes to check on me, I tell her and she checks my vitals. I was on the downside of it, so my BP and HR had lowered a bit but were still elevated. So I told her that this has happened before that it probably wasn't the shot. She told me to sit there anyway while she talked to my OBGYN.

Not 3 minutes later does it happen again... then once I recover from that, it happens one more time. Never have I had back-to-back-to-back episodes like that. My OBGYN came in an listened to my heart, looked at the injection site, etc. She talked to me and told me that it was probably anxiety from the shot. Even though I wasn't nervous at all, she said people who are more susceptible to having anxiety react that way sometimes even though you may not FEEL that way. I felt like a complete idiot. I mean the last time I was there I told her about my abuse(something she knew absolutely nothing about even though I've seen her since I was a teenager), and I had such bad anxiety I was shaking the whole time and today, to go in for a little shot.. only supposed to see the nurse and I end up there for an hour and she has to come and make sure I'm OK. I can only imagine what she thinks of me... and that makes me even more anxious. I am so afraid of being judged by people.

Anyway... I leave and get to work right around lunch. I stop in the office because she told me to take a Ben.adryl just in case it was some sort of reaction and not anxiety. A nurse asked what was up and I just broke down. I have no idea where it came from but I was still feeling extremely anxious and could not calm myself down. She was kind enough to go talk to our secretary to tell her I needed to go home. The secretary thinks I'm a slacker because there are days where I just have to leave immediately, and without knowing why it really seems that way. So I've stopped asking to go home if I need to because of her. Thankfully luck was on my side today. I came straight home, took a Xa.nax and went to sleep. I slept for 4 hours and woke up feeling no better than when I got home. Normally I'm fine after a round of Xa.nax and sleep, but this time I woke up with this heavy feeling of shame, guilt, panic, etc. It's all I can do right now to hold back tears, but I have no idea why. Am I crying because I'm afraid my OBGYN thinks I'm neurotic? Am I crying because the secretary doesn't like me? Am I crying because I'm currently having a conflict with one of my co-workers and I'm afraid the other thinks it's my fault? I don't know and that makes me want to cry even more.