Not Every Day Is Good

Not every day is going to be a good day. I could hug my doctor for telling me that last week, because in my mind, if every day is not a good day that means I am not going to get better.

Today was not a good day. I woke up hideously anxious, which generally does not progress well because the events of the day tend to ramp me up even more.

Sure enough, by 10AM I was so anxious I was tipping on the edge of hyperventilating. I had made an appointment to go back to the chiropractor since my upper back has been bothering me since the surgery. I figured it was because I had been walking through the halls of school somewhat hunched over and guarding myself from the hundreds of teenagers not paying attention to where they are going/running in the halls. That shame voice immediately sprang into action and made me feel even worse about going. "You don't need to go, you're being dramatic, you just want attention, you're only wasting your money." So of course that made me even more anxious, fighting with myself basically. (I did go and after one adjustment I do feel better!)

I got home and toyed with the idea of going to go workout, but having taken 6 weeks off for surgery, then re-starting this Sunday and working out for 3 days in a row, I was feeling very sore. I know my muscles needed a break. Cue shame voice. "You're getting ready to go on vacation, you won't be exercising a lot, you're going to gain weight, you're being lazy." So I grappled with this and ramped up my anxiety even more. I ended up taking a nap with the option to revisit when I woke up... but apparently I was tired and slept til almost 5!

I was supposed to take my cat to my mom's house tonight so she can watch her while I'm gone, but she ended up working late and asked me to do it tomorrow before my flight. Not really a problem, but I immediately started thinking about all the things I have to do tomorrow before I leave and I started adding to my already peaked anxiety. Enter shame voice again. "You should have done your laundry earlier. Now you can't go work out in the morning because you have to drive to (hometown). You haven't even cleaned up the apartment yet. Way to wait til the last minute."

My cousin (K) called to confirm my flight info and we started talking about what the schedule looks like for the next 7 days. Her first question for me was if I wanted to go to a nightclub with her tomorrow night for a few hours. Holy crap, bells, whistles, steam, anxiety x 1030835. My social anxiety has gotten increasingly worse since starting this medication and the idea of being in a room full of drunk strangers touching me is enough to put me in tears. I told her I didn't want to do that. Thankfully she knows quite a bit about the past two years of my life (the only one in my family who does) and she is caring enough to even ask! I am so thankful for that. The more we talked though, the more anxious I got because I have so little control over the next week.

I know everything is going to be fine, and that in the moment I'm going to be having so much fun with my family I won't be feeling all of this... but the fact that it all is racing through my head now is just fueling my anxiety. Shame voice and no control makes for a night of panic attacks. Ugh.

Believe in Yourself

My week has been pretty unstable. I had a very rough session Tuesday that involved a lot of acknowledgement of pain and suffering that I have never really come face to face with. My shift in thinking has gone from the physical act of the abuse to the emotional impact it has had. She (A) compared it to the shift in perspective from child to adult. I am finally understanding how I wished my parents had reacted to my abuse, and how I would react if this were to happen to someone I loved, and it is making me feel this pain I never realized I had. That's the shift in pain that I've talked about lately.

My homework was to write a response to the blog entry I had her read the previous week; my January 1st entry. It was hard for me to sit down and write it because that "new" pain was so fresh. I didn't react well to it and ended up getting so overwhelmed that I cut for the first time in almost 3 months. I could have stopped myself, but I just didn't want to. I needed that physical release.

So because this was so heavy for me to write, I knew it was all the more important for me to read. Not have her read, but for me to speak the words. Of course doing that generally sparks a huge onset of panic, and this time was no different. I struggled with even starting. I sat there for probably 10 minutes before I just looked A and told her I didn't think I could read it. Slowly leading me in, she had me just read the first sentence. Then the second. Before long I read the whole thing heaving and crying like a fool, letting the panic of the situation completely take over me.

We didn't really talk about my reading specifically, but more of what it represented and the messages it conveyed to her. Again, when I am in panic mode I don't form good memories. What we discussed directly after that is a fog. Once I was able to calm down, I can remember more clearly. I talked to her about how I was afraid of approaching something that is causing me this new feeling of pain, because of how overwhelmed and out of control it made me feel. I did not disclose to her that I cut over the weekend... I was too ashamed. I tried to lead her into asking me about it, but it wasn't until I specifically said that I was afraid of approaching anything else this week through homework or on my own because I was afraid that I was going to do what I did to cope with those feelings again... she finally was able to arrive where I was hoping she would without me having to say it. Cutting is such a shameful thing for me. I don't like admitting that I do it. I always feel like I'm letting her down when I can't find another way to release.

One of her first responses is to ask me if I can make a commitment not to cut until our next meeting (where she will ask me again!). Having just been through a panic attack, asking me to give up the one thing that makes me feel better was just going to make it worse, so I immediately put my eyes to the floor and waited for that question. Sure enough, there it was and I could feel that surge of panic. I told her no, that I couldn't commit to it. She told me to look at her. She asked me again. Will you make the commitment? No again.

I have never been that hesitant with agreeing. I have always (reluctantly) agreed that I would not cut for the rest of the week until I saw her again. She knows how guilty I feel when I do fall back on it. She asked me to look up at her again. I know you are strong enough to commit to doing this. I know how guilty you feel because of this. You have always done it before and I know you can do it again.

I think I can. I think I will.

Eventually

Trip to NY.C was amazing. Our flight was cancelled the day we were supposed to leave (very bad weather here) and we couldn't get a flight out til the next day at 6AM. So we lost a day but we were still able to do everything we wanted to, just at a much faster pace. We saw 3 Broadway plays and did all the popular touristy stuff. I'm pretty sure I walked over 30 miles in 3 days. What an experience :) I'm leaving for Colo.rado tomorrow morning. My aunt and teenage cousins live in NW Colo.rado, and my other cousin (who is more like my sister) is meeting me up there. Should be pretty relaxing. I'm hoping to do some white-water rafting, but we'll see how my back behaves.

I had a session last night that I thought I was prepared for, but as it has played out lately, I am taken completely off guard by the emotions and fear that come over me. It is becoming increasingly difficult for me to speak in session. Namely, she will prompt me for more clarification or information and I seize up. I know the answer or know why, but fear is keeping me from talking. The two things that are rearing their ugly heads that I did not expect to are my issues with food and God. I can keep it together when we are discussing anything but these things (or the abuse, but that is an obvious barrier that I expected). I told her the main thing that is keeping me from talking about it that these things are just coming to the surface and the fear that it is going to be something that I have to work on immediately keeps me from drawing attention to it. After all, it took me 10 years to seek help for the abuse. Having already given me my "assignment" for the week, she said that anything I felt like talking about would not result in additional work for the week. Knowing that, I felt much safer opening the door a little more. I was able to talk about the two main fears I have about food and God and left it at that. I wrote something last week that would have been helpful to share if I had the time, but we had none so I didn't say anything. Maybe next week.

I went to get a massage today, much needed after all that walking around NY.C. I was feeling a little panicky before going and was hoping it would calm me down. I ended up hyperventilating and had trouble getting myself back in order. Once I was able to get my breathing under control, I started crying. The music that was playing and my current state was just too much for me to handle, and even though my eyes stayed closed the whole time, my tears pushed their way through and streamed down my face. God bless my massage therapist. She knows enough about my life that she was able to keep me from going into a full blown panic attack. She gave me a huge hug before I left and told me that she was there if I ever needed anything. Of course, that sparked more tears that I thought I had under control. What it is about hugging that is like a release valve? I promised her I'd be alright. And I will... eventually. *sigh*

One of those days

I feel like I have been hit by a truck. My body is so drained from the panic that consumed me today... only now am I coming down from that, and I am feeling it right down into my bones.

I had one of the hardest sessions of my life today. I told myself before I went in there that I was going to read out loud the letter I had written and not allow myself to make excuses. Easier said than done. I think it took me close to 25 minutes to read the first paragraph. I had the onset of a panic attack as I kept reading and I could not stop shaking for the majority of the time... all because of words. Words on a piece of paper. Who knew the truth could be that terrifying? One paragraph was so hard for me to read I completely broke down right in the middle of it... ugh. I hate crying in front of people. I feel so weak when I do that but I just could not stave off the panic AND the emotions all at once, so I made the decision to cry a little in return for not completely freaking out in her office. Life's a trade off right?

In retrospect, I am very glad I was able to read it all in one session, especially since I won't be able to go back for another 2 weeks. Had I not done it, I would have looked down on myself for being so weak and not doing the best I could. At the very least, I accomplished that. But now, I have all these emotions out, they are no longer just a part of my thoughts... but now A knows about them. I know that they are as safe with her as they were in my head, but it's amazing how much more real it makes this entire situation.

I'm hoping I can sleep tonight without any more nightmares. I had one Sunday night that kept me up for a long time. Sometimes living alone is not such a great thing.