Something Else Tonight

No actual post. I'm doing my homework tonight and tomorrow morning. I'm at the point in the story where Mom dies, so that's going to kind of take up all I have to give for now.

Not Afraid of It

I made a commitment a few months ago to blog every day about my therapy and my growth and change. I haven't managed it. I did well until my Haldol-induced Zombie-tude in June. And since then, it's been about 50-50.

Part of the problem is that I've felt dull and like I've had nothing interesting to say, or nothing to say at all. Part of the problem is that I've been so depressed or so anxious that I could barely talk. Neither of these aspects lend themselves to blogging.

Another part of it is that I have this blog, and I have my more public blog: these two have to have different faces, different subject matter. I've been writing more for the other one than I had in awhile. Sometimes I have to stop and think about which one I'm writing for. Sometimes I'll think I'm writing for this blog, but it turns out the post is better suited for the other one, and occasionally it's vice versa. Well, today I added another layer of complexity and started a professional-facing blog. That's the one I've attached my whole, real name to, my web site to, and that I'll let everyone know about. I don't think there will be a problem figuring out when I'm writing for that blog.

So what do I have to say today? I accomplished some things, then fell back into immobility? I still haven't gotten out and walked, but I've done some deep knee bends, a bit of boogying, and some kitchen-counter push-ups? My muscle tone is scarily poor, but just doing a couple of things seems to have an effect.

I'm just still having problems with these damned speed bumps!

I don't know. Maybe there is some very forceful visualization work I need to do. It's been a long time since I've done any. It couldn't hurt.

I'm in a dreadful place of anxiety right now, with Julie's "Hungry Ghosts" ringing me — I can see their teeth and hear them sing. But as Julie says: acknowledge, distract, distract, distract. I add to that sedate, sedate, sedate! But the anxiety is making paying my bills a problem because even thinking of paying my bills brings the anxiety and the HGs.

Because of the weight I put on in the past year, a lot of my clothes from the previous 2-3 years don't fit. So I bought 3 pair of shorts and a nightgown. The shorts are just a tad tight, which is okay. Not tight enough to pop buttons or be uncomfortable, but tight enough to fit me for quite a few pounds down. (Plus, they are shorter than anything I've worn in quite a while and even with that lack of muscle tone my legs still got it!) As for the nightie, well, the cut was nice and the fabric is cotton and modal. Sigh. It's pink, true, but more of a peony pink than a Barbie pink, so I'm good with it. It fits so well and it's so comfortable. So these four items were good buys for me, no matter what.

Well, there. See? Communicating. However, that's all I got right now. I've written two other posts already tonight! And I find I can write and edit a post, even one that I'm being all professional with, in 45 minutes for a post that was as high as 600 words but final count was 571. Not too bad.

Among the Stars, Floating Freely

I've had difficulties coming up with something to write about. Part of it is that I haven't done anything dramatic in therapy lately and part of it is that I'm not feeling anything intense right now. 

I have to remind myself that this blog is not about entertaining anyone, not even myself. It's a journal of my journey through therapy and mental health. Quiet times are part of that journey — I don't think I could manage if my life were all sturm und drang.

Right now as I sit on the couch in the near dark, I feel like I'm floating almost weightless, wheeling in black space surrounded by stars in all directions, near and far. This floating is different from the floating of "broken thinking"; I am connected and centered. I guess this feeling is one of calmness, quietude, and restfulness, like the calm within the eye of a storm, or the quiet when all the neighbors are asleep and the traffic has died away.

My life contains so many difficult challenges right now, on all fronts, that I'm enjoying this hiatus, now that I've realized it's nothing pathological. I think that's one of the problems of being in therapy a lot: soon every mental state seems like a pathology. It's like when I first paid attention to "what cancerous moles and lesions look like" and I realized that most of my moles and freckles etc. have all the characteristics of "bad" ones! Yes, I am a touch hypochondriacal. Does the psychiatric community still use the word "neurotic"?

I'm going to enjoy the quiet as long as it lasts and take this time to focus on finding work and doing my damned therapy homework. More than likely, this next set of homework will take a chunk out of my quietude.

Random Day

It just occurred to me that I don't always have to write on a specific topic (which has caused me to not write on occasion). Other bloggers have random thoughts posts, so what the hell, so can I!

I didn't do my homework, yet again. My therapist will wonder about my level of commitment, as do I. I desperately want to get better, but I wonder if the level of pain I have felt on a few of these homework days has put me off.  So the week passes and I keep thinking later, if I think at all. I have enlisted one friend to pester me to death if necessary. Other readers who know me, feel free to pester.

I've become very good at not thinking. This is why it's July and I haven't done the stuff I should have done in January and why I'm still jobless. Well, I think that the level of my messed-up-ness and sheer pain, anxiety, and depression are what really are to blame for my joblessness. I must change that now that I'm feeling better.

I'm still feeling guilt that I am here and my mother is not. I know that I took very good care of her, the best I could, but I still feel guilty. For example, I kept forgetting to visualize her cancer cells being killed off by the radiation, even though I told her I would and I taught her how (and she did). Rationally, I know it wouldn't have helped. Irrationally, I feel that I didn't do my part and maybe it would have helped. And that life must be wrong for me to be here and her to be gone.

Home is still a mess: I've made little progress. I did organize my socks and underwear, rather than just have them tossed around in the closet. If I could just handle the pile of clothing in between the socks and underwear, my closet will be almost perfect. Of course, I have something like two dozen socks. But they are all so pretty!

I didn't walk this weekend. I didn't clean. I didn't have salad tonight like I told a friend I would do, but I did cut up and eat some yellow and orange bell peppers. Plus I had blueberries in my cereal and yogurt for breakfast, and a couple of strawberries for a snack. Go me!

My therapist and I talked about my feeling that I am a tiny sports car facing humongous speed bumps. She suggested I consider myself a big SUV looking down on speed bumps that, from here, are pretty small. I need to remember that. I'm a big SUV and the speed bumps are actually quite small. I wonder what kind of SUV? And what color should I be? These are very important details in a good visualization.

My computer needs an overhaul, but there are things I'm not sure are possible. So I have to do some research before I can simply reformat. Computer problems are almost as bad as car problems.

I got a great haircut. Now I need to find the right hair dye. I think I need a bigger pharmacy that what I usually go to. I want really saturated color.

Okay, this isn't that interesting, so I'll stop here. I wish I were as funny as my favorite writer; her random days are hilarious. But then, her blog isn't a therapy, open a vein kind of blog. Maybe I should try this on my regular blog. It might be easier.

Hope you aren't bothered by incessant fireworks tonight!

All About Me

Of course, this blog is all about me. What would be the point, otherwise? This blog is about my return from the darkness of the Abyss. But I think it's grown somewhat stale. Perhaps I need to have more focus, the way I need it in my therapy (and I haven't done my homework yet, but I've had something that has taken me out of the house every day this week, and going outside, right now, tends to use up a lot of energy). I don't have any kind of a routine in place. Anywhere.

Where was I? Stale. While I don't want to shake things up (that would make me nauseated and mess up the serenity I'm so desperate to develop), I do want to develop a schema. Something that would make this blog more a part of my therapy rather than a place to blurp up my latest thoughts and feelings. This blog could be a useful tool; I'm not currently using it as one.

In fact, most of my posts are first and only drafts, requiring few or no revisions. On the one hand, I'm very proud of the writing skills that enable me to create what I consider good posts in an hour, or less. On the other hand, what could these be if I put some more thought and effort into them? I need to make sure I don't make this blog a burden. I have too many burdens right now.

I'll spend some time thinking about this and when I figure out what I want to do, I'll tell you. Until then, I'll continue with these short, 15-minute posts and the long 1-hour posts.

Tidal effects, perhaps

I had thought that, being away from my every day for two weeks, I would be able to write. Write the blogs, write my therapy homework ....

I was mistaken. Instead, I have had friends stay overnight, which has been great. I've had a few just-for-an-hour visitors. When I've had no visitors, I've slept. And slept. And slept. One day, I got up at 1pm (bedtime by about 10), ate, went back to sleep at 2, up at 4, drifted off for most of the next 5 hours, up at 9, in bed by 11:30. Slept great. If nothing is demanding my attention, and sometimes even it if is, I want a nap and I want it NOW. I'm taking a drive inland a bit in a couple of days and I'm going to have to buy some energy drinks just to make the trip both ways!

Even being physically uncomfortable doesn't keep me awake: it makes me want to sleep. I am sometimes peaceful and comfortable and sometimes quite twitchy and uncomfortable. But I always want to sleep.

Maybe I need to sleep a lot to make up for all that grieving. I don't know. I guess I'll just ask my therapist.

Hey! It's 9 o'clock! It's almost bedtime again! Yay!

Dream a little dream

I did not accomplish all that I planned, but I accomplished much of what I wanted today. Tomorrow I must be very focused and energetic to finish it all. But I have the time, before I go to bad, exhausted and surrendering in the struggle against the mosquito bites: I've put stuff on them (Campho Phenique), I've put bandages over that. Some I haven't managed to bandage (try putting bandages on YOUR scapulas!). I'm just giving in and feeling itchy. Because some things still itch, I'm not sure if the other stuff itches less, or even not at all. You know how that happens? The sensation simply swamps your receptors and there's no way to differentiate incoming signals.

Which, unexpectedly, leads me more or less to tonight's topic: dreams and PTSD.

When I dream, my PTSD hallucinations are real. So the bug-shapes I see out of the corner of my eye in real life are large black bugs that jump at me or pursue me or go where I cannot see them in my dreams. The pet-sized shadows I see are actual dogs and cats and who knows what in my dreams. And sometimes there are people, too. As you can see, my PTSD shapes are generally not beneficial in my dreams.

Except this morning. In my dream, I was getting into my car and struggling through black webs and spiders and tree roaches and just webby kinds of barriers. When I got into the driver's seat I jumped and brought my foot up to see what was on it and it was a skinny black lizard. It wasn't scary and I wanted to catch it, or at least leave it in the car to eat the pests.

So, Julie, Dream Interpreter Extraordinaire, tell me what the heck this means?

(Does this sooth your OCD cravings for my blog posts?)

A pass

I'm getting myself ready for my trip in a couple of days. As such, I'm giving myself a "Get Out Of Blogging Free" Pass for these next three nights.

If I finish my tasks each day early, then I will blog about something.

But given my anxiety issues, I think it's best for me to give myself a worry-free pass on having to blog. Just for a few days.

Then I'll be back and writing about Angst on the Oregon Coast.

I had a great post today

I had this great post, suggested by Sierra. Unfortunately, I had a very late dinner because I'd been so tired beforehand. Then I talked for a long time over IM. I started, but one of the press releases came back for revisions. Then a friend who really needed to talk called and we never talk for less than an hour (72 minutes this time). The press release came back with a different set of revisions. The other release came in for first review.

And supposedly all this was going to go out the 1st. Then the 2nd. Obviously we've missed the 3rd and the 4th was The Date to Hit. If so, it will be late on the 4th. Especially because I am exhausted and the two women sending me stuff live on the West Coast, 2 hours behind me. They are still active and almost perky, I'm sure. So I'm sending them email that I'm asleep.

Then, instead of a blog post, I'm writing an excuse. And I keep nodding off and my eyes are crossing. A good sign I'm out of it.

That is why I'm not writing a blog post. But at least I'm ahead of the game for tomorrow!

OMG! I DID STUFF!!!!

It's entirely appropriate language and punctuation to use.

Today was a typical Sunday. I stayed up until almost 3 am because I couldn't sleep; finally took a pill. Then I woke up at 11 am.  At least I slept for 8 hours, which is good for you, right?

I dawdled, knowing I had so much work to do that I'd put off since Friday (down heah in the South, folks take Good Friday off, including school and gov'mint offices, y'all). Almost all of what I had to do was work-related — a press release I'll get paid for as the contract progresses, and the work samples for the potential contract, plus updating my professional web site.  I also have my therapy homework. I just couldn't start.

I wrote emails. I checked blogs repetitively. I drank two large mugs of tea.

Finally, I ran out of ways to delay myself and I started. Nothing like a tight deadline to motivate one! And then something weird happened. I. Got. Productive.

Here's the list of what I accomplished today:

• edited a press release
• added 6 or 7 PDFs to my portfolio on my computer
• added the same 6 or 7 PDFs to my web site area
• updated my web site: made minor changes to 5 pages, major changes to 2, added 13 or 14 new pages, included all the correct links (and tested and tested), tested and fixed some more (uploaded and tested and fixed and uploaded)
• via email, asked for testimonials/recommendations (from probably 7 people) that I can post on my web site (have received 4 yeses and no noes)
• swept the deck, including the deck chairs and around the door
• took took the two large boxes that have been lingering in the living room out to the storage closet on the deck
• paid a bill
• boiled some eggs
• ate some eggs for dinner when I realized it was almost 8 pm

In between were at least 30 texts with friends.

I guess the drugs have kicked in.

More

Writing a post every day is about as difficult as I expected it to be. But the posts were coming from me so quickly, I grew cocky. I found that sometimes the words aren't flowing. Sometimes I'm far too tired to want to put in the effort or the time. Sometimes I just don't feel like it. And in the past, if I didn't feel like doing something, I'd cancel it, call in sick, blow it off.

I've realized that I wasn't giving myself much credit for writing this blog daily. And not only this blog, but the occasional post on my other blog, and now I'm starting a third, for professional conversation.

Even though I have been so anxious and depressed and purely, miserably in pain during the past month and 2 days, I've written for this blog every evening. And I've turned out another couple of posts for the other blogs.

I don't give myself enough credit.

Today, I dressed in nice clothes and went to a meeting, which was energetic and loud. The sun shone. The weather was hot and not too humid. There was traffic. I didn't have enough water to drink and was parched all the way home. I'm tired because I'm so introverted and I've spent entirely too much time alone inside my home, because I'm out of driving "shape," and because I became mildly dehydrated.

Yet, here I am, writing a post for tonight, even though I am tired and my knee hurts and my ears are still ringing from the talking (we are a loud group). I'm writing even though I have clothing spread all over my bed that I need to put away before I can go to sleep. I'm writing even though all I planned to do was write "Sorry, no post. I'm tired."

Writing a post every day is more difficult than I thought. And much easier. I need to give myself more credit.

I blog, therefore I ... blog

I'm posting daily, even if I don't feel like writing anything, because I'm cautiously stepping back into the concept of commitment. I used to handle commitment quite well, but that's not been the case in quite some time now.

First, there was discovering an employer does not proffer the same commitment to their employee — you — as they expect you to give to them. Then there was the boyfriend who changed the terms of his commitment — without telling me. When my life grew more difficult, my ability to commit faded. I am now very good at either avoiding commitment or at canceling.

This blog is the beginning of regaining that aspect of integrity.

And all of this is a lead in to the fact that today has been a dreadful day and I don't want to talk about it, but I did want to keep up my unbroken string.

So, good night. Enjoy whatever you are doing with whoever you are doing it with.

Late Already

Well, I haven't started my therapy homework yet and it's almost bedtime. Is the procrastination due to my discomfort with the coming work, the trauma issues that keep me from doing anything, or just plain simple procrastination, if there is such a thing?

Sometimes I wonder if there is any such thing as plain and simple. But I'll visit simplicity in another post.

Not only do I want to work on my homework in a timely manner, I want to write blog posts as often as possible. Join the "blog every day" club, y'know? Besides, even if I don't get the accountability thing due to not advertising widely (I can't decide if I want to come out even semi-anonymously on too many of the blogs I frequent. There are potential issues there, too. I'll take suggestions and opinions under advisement.)

The weather was quite good today after dark and rain yesterday, and sunshine always raises my mood. I accomplished some work and some study toward other skills I intend to add to my bag of tricks. Of course, doing well today could end up making me hunker down tomorrow; it would be in pattern for me.

I've gotten pretty bad at going to bed at a reasonable time, which in turn causes me to sleep until an unreasonable time. Getting up at 10 or later really messes me up, because I'm not a night person. Even if I stay up too late.

I'm late on my bills, all of the ones I'm responsible for. I'm late looking for a psychiatrist to handle my medications. I'm late booking the last couple of appointments of physical therapy. And it's been two years since my last physical, and two and a half since my last mammogram. Oh yeah, and this year I get to start that whole colonoscopy thing. I think. I'm sure my doctor will let me know. Hooray.

On another topic, completely without segue, I think I have a strong "voice" in my writing, whether it be fiction or non. That, in itself, will probably give me away. Readers, what do you think? Is my voice identifiable? It's not as if I can perceive it. Inside my head, my voice is always the same, unless I've been reading too much of one kind of fiction. I have been known to think in "thee" and "thou," or in Victorian speech patterns.

Well, I think this is enough for the evening. This makes two in a row! ::much whistling and cheering ensues::

Good night.

Finnegan Begin Again

I've tried writing in my original blog, but I end up stopping for many reasons. One of those reasons is paranoia: I'll be talking about deeply personal things, including therapy, medication, and sex (not necessarily in that order), and I don't want a potential client or certain friends and family to connect this blog with me.

Maybe with this bit of anonymity, I'll find it easier to post. Because I have a lot of work to do. And a lot I want to say. And eventually I want to run my other blog better, and start a professional blog, but I think that first I need to just get my brain back into writing after being cemented in place for so long. So if I write crap, better here than in more public forums.

I've invited the people from blogs I visit routinely. Anyone who knows me from there will probably figure out who I am almost immediately, which is fine. It's not them I am trying to be anonymous with.

Have you ever heard of Trauma Therapy? I hadn't either until last week. It's different from cognitive therapy, which is good because over two decades of cognitive therapy taught me about how I think, but haven't enabled me to move.

Trauma therapy addresses each trauma event individually. Pick an event, say when someone hurt me. Then write down pieces of that event that were significant emotionally. For each piece, you then write about it: when it occurred (this anchors it in time, which often unresolved traumas are not); feelings ("I felt this") about the piece; put it in past tense (because unresolved traumas generally feel and are often talked about as if in the present); if there is a perpetrator, address them directly ("you did this"); and make the description factual, with as may details as possible. No opinions or explanations. Facts and feelings.

Then the next time I meet with my therapist (Karen), I'll read it aloud (that's gonna be fun) and we'll talk about my feelings, the event, and I'm not sure what else because this is the very first time I'm doing it.

Given that I have a long menu of traumas to choose from (many that perhaps only one other person might know about), I chose to go with one that is hardest, that is hitting me the most deeply, rather than trying to just dip my toes in with something "easy." Because I want to get through this crap as quickly as possible. I've been stuck at start for so many years now, I can't stand to wait any longer to begin my life again. I'll be starting with my most recent trauma, because it is directly related to the deepest issues, I think. Karen agrees.

Karen asked me why I have not done the things that I obviously want to. After thinking for a moment, I told her that while my mind knows the problems, and what to do mentally, there is something broken below that. It's like the steering and the wheels are completely disconnected. I am desperately hoping that this trauma work will reconnect me, so I can go where I mean to go.

Welcome. Let's see what happens, shall we?