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Found 5 results

  1. Well, it’s Wednesday. I’m tired today. I was up late last night and early this morning and I’m ready to go back to my cozy bed and sleep away the rest of the week. Honestly, I haven’t blogged because there’s been nothing to blog about. Everything in my life is just heavy right now. There’s been little good and lots of bad and I just want to post something worth reading. That likely won’t happen today. I guess this blog will be a catch-up session. Since the last blog I posted was about my suicide attempt, I feel I owe everyone an update. I DID post a different blog after that one, but I decided to take it down. It was just…. too dark. I knew no one really wanted to read that. Even if someone DID want to read it, it wasn’t my best writing and I was ashamed that I even posted it. Although it wasn’t the best blog, it was pretty accurate in describing how I’ve been feeling lately. It’s hard to post about anything other than the big things that are right in front of my face. It’s like my feelings are in front of me jumping up and down, waving their arms, and screaming at me to acknowledge them. I’m not entirely sure how to get them to just shut up and leave me alone. So, I posted about it. It didn’t help and I felt bad about it, so I took it down. I’m sorry to anyone that read it. Today, though, will not be about my feelings. In a way, I suppose it will, but overall, I intend to just let you know what’s been going on. Maybe this will help ME in the process. We’ll see I’ve had 2 sessions since the session where I hugged The New Guy. The latter of those session involved The Wife, but the first one did not. This did upset me a little. I had told her a few days prior to the session about the suicide attempt and we talked about it. I also asked her if she would be at that session and she told me yes. So you can imagine my disappointment when I got there and found out she wouldn’t be joining us. That session was…hard. The New Guy started a new program with me that’s supposed to keep me from going to an inpatient facility. We started paperwork on that. I had to use a lot of scales and rate my feelings. On a scale of 1-10, how likely was I to kill myself or, on a scale from 1-5 how much did I hate myself. Then I had to write down my reasons for living and my reasons for dying. I had to tell him what I would do if I was trying to kill myself. Where I would go, what method I would use, what time I would do it. That was hard. This session took about an hour and a half to complete. It wasn’t the easiest session I’ve ever been in, but I was hoping it was productive. I started thinking about things after leaving and realized that I don’t think I was totally honest in some of the numbers I put down. I was terrified that if he knew how bad it was, he would still make me go inpatient. He said he wouldn’t, but…. I was still afraid. I didn’t trust him. He asked if I had a plan to kill myself. My first response was “I’m supposed to say no to that.” I don’t know why I said it – it just kind of came out. My other T has always told me that she wouldn’t make me go inpatient and she wouldn’t call the police as long as I didn’t have a plan. So, to me, plan = inpatient. I was trying to avoid that. After I blurted that sentence, I told him that I didn’t have a plan. He didn’t believe me. He kept saying I needed to be honest. I told him I didn’t have one. Then he seemed to get a little angry – he really didn’t believe me. After that is when he asked me to describe what it would look like if I DID have a plan. I’m not positive, but I’m guessing he put that I did and had me describe everything to him. I don’t know that for sure though. I told him the next day that I didn’t feel I was honest enough with my numbers and he said it was fine. I asked if I could change them and he said no. He said we would work with what we had and if I wasn’t going to commit to it, he would find me a hospital to go to. So, I said okay and left it at that. During the session, the paperwork had me create a stabilization plan. This plan was supposed to help keep me from cutting and also help me combat the suicidal thoughts/tendencies. It has worked for the most part. It’s just when I get super overwhelmed or when I don’t deal with the thoughts immediately, they add up and I end up hurting myself or getting close to another attempt. Which is what happened last night. I’ll get to that later. The next session I had with him was this past Saturday. I asked The Wife if she would be there and again, she said yes. And she actually was there this time. Things felt off from the very beginning. It may have partially been because I REALLY wasn’t wanting to go. I felt like The New Guy was upset with me about a conversation we had earlier in the week, and I felt like The Wife really just doesn’t like that she has to be there. I thought it would be much easier to not go. But, I went. The New Guy showed up almost 10 minutes late which made me feel MORE like a burden. Like he had other things he needed or wanted to be doing and I was just taking up too much of his time. I eventually went in and the room we usually have sessions in was filled with all kinds of boxes and things and wasn’t usable. So, we relocated to a different room. The new room we went to was one we had used for a session before, so I was okay with that. It felt comfortable enough. But for some reason, there was a smell. It wasn’t abhorrent, but it wasn’t pleasant. I kind of smelled like stale air and mildew, but it wasn’t too strong. It was bearable. Well, it was bearable for ME. The New Guy seemed okay with it too but The Wife… not so much. She wasn’t a fan. We decided to relocate again. At this point, we were running out of rooms that had the amount of privacy we needed. We ended up going upstairs to a cold room with dim lighting. There was no table, so we grabbed some chairs and sat in an awkward circle. My appointment was supposed to be at 3:00pm but the by the time The New Guy got there and we found somewhere to go, it was about 3:20pm. I only had 40 minutes and I knew he had someone scheduled at 4:00pm. Now I was feeling rushed because of how much time was wasted, I felt bad that The Wife was so uncomfortable with the other room because of the smell, I was uncomfortable because I thought The New Guy was upset with me or just flustered in general, I felt weird in the new environment and I was ready to go. I was set up for a bad session. I wrote a blog one time called Misconceptions of a Wandering Mind and in that blog, I talked about overthinking. I am an AVID overthinker. I read way too much into things, I try to find hidden meanings behind things that are said to me, I overthink assignments because the perfectionistic part of me doesn’t want to do anything wrong, and I always worry about what other people are thinking about me. You can imagine how this plays into my sessions and makes me more nervous. The New Guy has a way of asking questions that I don’t always know how to answer. The way he phrases things… I just never know what to say or how to answer him. I often times tell him that ‘I don’t know what kind of answer he’s looking for,’ and he will tell me that he’s not looking for anything specific, he just wants me to answer honestly. It’s just that I don’t always understand the questions. With my fear of being wrong, these questions often render me completely speechless and cause me to freeze. It makes for a lot of awkward time during sessions. So, we jumped right into the next part of the program we are doing. Session number 2. He starts asking about my attachments to other people. He asks me to describe what my relationship with my family looks like. I didn’t really know what he meant, and he asked me to start listing things I liked about my family and things I disliked. He had me grab a pen and paper and write this all down. I went on to write things about friendships, and other relationships in my life. This sounds like such a simple task when I write about it here, but my overthinking brain was on overdrive and I was struggling with this. The New Guy eventually says “this was meant to be easy. This isn’t a hard thing to do,” and I said I understood, I just didn’t know what to write. I could tell he was frustrated with me. I started shutting down. I was just trying to wait out the time until 4:00 so I could get out of there. The New Guy says we’ve hit a barrier and he doesn’t know what’s going on or where the resistance was coming from. I finally told him that I thought he was upset or mad at me and I didn’t know how to do the assignment and I was having hard time doing it right. He says he’s not upset, but his tone said otherwise. He said there was no evidence to show that he was mad and he didn’t know why I thought that because he clearly wasn’t. He just didn’t understand what was going on. The Wife chimes in and said there had to be evidence or I wouldn’t feel the way I was feeling. She asked if it was a tone or the way someone was sitting. I didn’t answer. I just looked down while I was crying. I didn’t know what to do. I was thankful she took my side though. The New Guy lets out a sigh, adjusts his sitting position, and says a bunch of things that I don’t hear. We start wrapping up and he asks me another question. I honestly don’t remember what the question even was, I just remember saying “I don’t know. I don’t know, I don’t know. I just don’t know.” The Wife kind of laughed but I wasn’t laughing. I said “I know you’re going to be mad because I’m just saying I don’t know, but I don’t know how to answer that question. I don’t know what you want me to say. I just don’t know what you’re looking for.” I had hit my breaking point. My words were more forceful that I intended, but I was done. I couldn’t keep feeling that way. He went on to say a lot of things but I was so dissociated that I have no idea what he said. He finally said, “are you hearing me?” and I responded with a slight nod even though I really didn’t hear anything at all. He gave me homework and I agreed to do it. I was saying whatever I could say just to get out of there. I left the building, got in my car, and I broke. I was sobbing uncontrollably. I felt like such a disappointment and I felt so defeated. I never wanted to see either of them ever again. I stayed in the parking lot crying for a solid half hour. When I was finally able to catch my breath, I tried to calm myself down so I could move on. I had a couple of errands to run so I put my headphones in, blasted some music, and got my errands done. The rest of the day was hard. I cried a lot. I was inconsolable. I got home and laid down. I was so low. My heart was broken and I felt like I was letting everyone down. I drew a bath, grabbed a blade, and headed to the bathroom. I closed the doors and sat in the tub contemplating the very existence of my being. What was the point in trying anymore? Things just kept getting worse. Obviously, I didn’t die that night or I wouldn’t be here typing this out. I wanted to though. I wanted to say goodbye and wish this life away because I didn’t see the point and living with all of this pain any longer. I got out of the bath, toweled off, threw on a t-shirt and got in bed. I was drained. I took my meds and went to sleep. The days following have been fuzzy. It doesn’t seem like it’s only Wednesday. It feels like that was weeks ago and I’m just missing the time in between. Luckily, tomorrow is Thursday and I can see my other T and release all of this. Last night was another hard one. I really don’t want to get into the details of what happened last night because I am embarrassed and ashamed. I feel disgusting. I was so upset last night after it happened. I let it happen because I didn’t care about myself – I just wanted to feel SOMETHING. I was so numb. I felt worse afterwards. I felt like I had no one I could talk to and nothing would make me feel better so I did the only thing I knew how to do – the only thing I thought would make me feel better and make me feel less numb. I grabbed a blade and headed to the bathroom. I didn’t draw a bath this time. I simply lifted my shirt and the side of my underwear and started sliding that sharp, silver blade across my right hip – my favorite cutting spot. I suppose it was because I was cutting over old cuts, but the bleeding was the worst it’s ever been. Those that are cutters know that when you cut, the blood makes dots in a line across where you’ve made the incision. For me, it pools, but never too much no matter how deep I go. This time was different. It was bleeding profusely. It beaded in a line like normal, but it just started dripping down my leg so quickly. I could see the blood pouring out and it was trailing down my leg onto my foot. It was scary. I’ve never bled so bad before. The cuts didn’t even seem that deep, I barely felt them. I’m not sure if I was just THAT numb, or if it was because I was cutting over old cuts that made it bleed so much. I cleaned up the cuts and the rest of my leg. My paper towels were soaked with blood. I put a band aid on and disposed of the saturated towels. I put my blade back up in the safe place and went to bed. I was so alone, so tired, and just so broken. Everything in my life feels so dark right now. I can’t see the way out of this hole that I’m in. I keep saying I’ll try harder, but I don’t know HOW. I’m doing everything I know to do. I’m trying my best. I’m trying to put in the work but I’m just not getting better. It’s exhausting feeling this way. Being constantly trapped in your own mind with negative thoughts that won’t stop. I know this blog hasn’t been fun, but I owed you an update. This is why I’ve been so scarce lately and why no one has heard much from me. I’m just so far into my own stuff right now that I haven’t been able to offer much for support. I haven’t even really been able to reach out for support for myself. I hope you are all doing well. I hope that there’s light and sunshine in each of your lives and you’re making it through on this journey called life. I know I’ll be okay soon – I’m just going through a rough patch. I’ll be okay though. Wishing you all the light and sending as many hugs as you’d like. My best, Poppy
  2. This post has some references to suicidal thoughts. Please don't read ahead if you're feeling sensitive. Yikes! Is it already Friday?? This day really snuck up on me this week so this blog, while still being thoughtful and sincere, will be a bit of me just shooting from the hip. I guess it will just be about whatever it is on my mind today. I would like to be able to tell you a funny story seeing as my last two blogs have been SERIOUS downers, but I don’t have any funny stories right now. The past couple weeks have been rough to say the least. Don’t worry though, I’m still here with my dark and twisty sense of humor, so maybe this will be more lighthearted than I’m thinking right now. I had a few fleeting ideas yesterday, but never found one worthy enough to actually write about today. If you follow my posts on After Silence, you saw me post yesterday about the AWFUL therapy session I had. I considered writing more in depth about that, but I don’t know that I really want a full blog post dedicated to the woes of my inability to communicate my feelings. However, although I did not want to speak solely of my therapy session, it did get me (over)thinking about something I do A LOT that seems to make things really difficult for me. I’m guilty of OVERTHINKING. (Now that I’ve said it, I know you’re realizing that funny thing I did up above.) Yes, I overthink literally everything. I know of some individuals that are agreeing with me so hard right now. I am the queen of overthinking. This has caused SO MANY PROBLEMS in my relationships with other people and it took me until just recently to learn that this is what I was doing. What got me thinking of this yesterday was my therapy session. That session ended terribly, and it WAS my fault. Had I just slowed down and listened; it may not have happened. So, I suppose I will go into some detail for the sake of getting my point across. Let me first say that I wasn’t intending to delve into this, but I DID promise that this blog would be the unedited version of my life – the good, the bad, the ugly. While I won’t always share my therapy sessions with you, I will share this one. The beginning of the session was fine, so I won’t elaborate on that. But there was a point where I brought up a conversation I was having with another person that kind of upset me. Well, let me back up a bit. My therapist is all about me finding other sources of support aside from her. I realize now that she doesn’t mean this in a bad way, but she wants me to have other people I can talk to because that’s healthy. I used to overthink that a lot, but I see her reasoning more now. Anyway, I have a very hard time making “friends” or getting close to people. Partly because I have been burned so many times or my trust has been broken, and partly because I HATE feeling like a burden on other people. I worry about annoying people or them growing tired of me. But despite this, I have been working VERY hard to find people to trust and talk to, and right now, I’ve got three of those people in my corner. Which for me, is AMAZING. I had been talking to one of those three people recently. I opened up quite a bit to her and trusted her with a lot of information. We were mid conversation on Wednesday, I asked her a question, and she never responded. I was perplexed because it wasn’t anything too serious, I just wanted her opinion on something. There was something personal she found out about me and I asked her opinion on it, so it bothered me that she never answered. I wanted to know if she hated me now, or if her views of me changed, or if maybe she no longer wanted to speak to me because I have too much baggage. It’s now Friday, and I still have not heard from her. I’ve given up hope on her ever responding to that text. There’s nothing I can do about what she knows at this point. I brought this up to my therapist because she was asking how things were going with this individual. I told her things had been okay, but that she never responded to my message the day before and I didn’t know why. I wasn’t crying or overly upset about it, I was just…concerned? Making conversation? Answering her question? It wasn’t a huge deal. I was just letting her know what was going on. Her answer to that? She said, “maybe she’s too busy to answer.” Excuse me? Did I hear that correctly? You’re telling me that the person YOU encouraged me to open up to, the person you WANTED me to form a relationship with, the person you wanted me to REACH OUT TO, is now TOO busy to respond to me? Well if they were too busy, what was the point in making me reach out to them and open up to them in the first place? Why encourage me to do something like that if I was going to be a burden? These were the things running through my mind. In that moment, it felt as though everything was crashing down and I would never be able to speak to that person again because she probably thought I was annoying, and she was tired of me. Which is what eventually happens with EVERYONE. You’d think by now, I would catch on and I would be more prepared, but it still hurts. Mostly because I DID trust her, and I DID believe her when she said she wanted to be there. By now, I figured I had ruined it. It was over, and I was sad. My therapist continued to say that she was probably busy with her kids and her work and doing things around the house. Things that didn’t include me. Things that were more important than me. At that point, I had completely shut down. My mind had gone completely off the deep end and I felt completely alone. I was so angry at her for saying those things to me – for making me feel like a waste of space. I left her office and completely broke down, ugly crying, in my car. I had no one. I was completely and entirely alone and I could feel my heart breaking in half. As I drove back to work, (yes, I had to work after that which was not ideal) I thought about how much not only my therapist hated me, but how much everyone must hate me. I thought about how I was so screwed up no one would ever love me. My mind contemplated the very existence of my being and in that moment, I wanted nothing more than to disappear. (I told you – the good, the bad, and the UGLY.) I made it to work, composed myself, and went inside. I was still feeling isolated and hurt, so I reached out on AS for some support. Let me add here that this site has been a LIFESAVER to me! Thank you all for your unconditional support. I got some answers on here and a text from one of those special three people I mentioned earlier. I talked the situation out both on here and via text with my sweet friend. The general consensus was to work it out with my therapist, and by the time I had calmed down enough to rationally think about all of this, I realized everyone was right. I was encouraged to send an email to express my feelings and hopefully get some reassurance or some clarification on what happened. When I left her office, it really and truly felt that my therapist no longer cared about me. I knew she could see how upset I was, but she didn’t reach out or comfort me at all. I know that she doesn’t really prefer for me to email her about personal things, but this felt important enough to warrant a message. I typed out an email explaining why I was upset and what was going through my head. I left out the details of my ugly crying and my compulsion to end my life, but I did let her know what it was that upset me and why. I honestly did feel better after typing everything out, but after I hit that dreaded ‘send’ button, my world went back into a spiral. The overthinking started, yet again. What would she think of my email? What would she say? Would she respond at all? Does she hate me? Is she going to tell me I can’t see her anymore? Will she think I’m too emotionally involved? But alas, she responded within a couple of hours and soothed my fears. She assured me that what I HEARD was not what she SAID. While I heard the actual words she said, I did not perceive it the way she intended it. She let me know that she tried to further explain herself, but I had already shut down and was not willing to listen. Once she explained what she DID mean, I felt better. I truly did. Because I simply didn’t understand her the first time, and I wouldn’t LET her clarify. She meant the opposite of what I thought. She meant that she didn’t respond because she got sidetracked. She meant I WAS NOT a burden, but that she may have set her phone down and forgotten to respond. She meant that even though she WANTED to help me, something may have called her attention away from her phone. It wasn’t about me. She never meant that it was. Now I knew what she meant, and it did make me feel better. I’m still not THRILLED that I never got a response, but I at least understand a little more now. I’ll actually be seeing that person tonight, so maybe she will say something about it then. Or maybe she won’t but that will have to be okay too. I said I wasn’t going to delve into this ENTIRE story, but it was like my fingers were on fire and I couldn’t stop typing. Every detail felt so important. Maybe I just needed the time to release some of this and get it out on paper. I didn’t intend to share all of this with you, but here it is. My very exposed heart. In closing, I’m hoping this might be able to help another overthinker that may be reading this. Your thoughts won’t ruin everything, sometimes you just need to communicate. Those thoughts are usually misconceptions of your wandering mind. Information that isn’t true. So, don’t worry, you’ll be okay. Just remember to communicate and to clarify – that’s all we really can do. Thank you for taking the time to read about my own wandering mind. I appreciate all the support. Loves and hugs, Poppy
  3. I just joined the forum, and wanted to post a Hello message. Also to ask peoples opinions on which forms of therapy they suggest, and the pros and cons of each.
  4. My daily schedule is abnormal, to say the least, since it has been so long since I held a job (a little over 8 years). I typically sleep from 4 or 5:00 am until 1 or 2:00 pm, give or take, anywhere from 8-10 hours per day, depending on my physical and emotional needs. The reason for this odd sleeping pattern is due to my boyfriend's job, which is second-shift hours. Though, perhaps, not ideal, these hours have worked for us for several years because my boyfriend and I are both night owls. Comfort can be found in the wee hours of the morning with peace and quiet that only those hours seem to afford - peace and quiet that I cannot get at any other time of day where we currently live. Above all else, my resting period is by far the most important aspect of protecting my sanity, which is why today's therapy appointment was a complete bust. My appointment was scheduled for 11:00 am, technically the middle of my "night." I suppose I could have rescheduled this appointment for another time (I didn't notice the time slot on the card until after I left the last appointment); but considering that I'm lucky to get an appointment every three weeks, I didn't want to risk having to wait even longer for another one. I struggled to make myself get into bed at 1:30 am this morning in order to be up by 9:00 am, only to toss and turn for the next 2 hours. I only got a little over 5 hours of sleep which left me cranky and not in the mood to talk at all! Any less than 8 hours of sleep, and, yeah, I'm pretty much worthless for the day. I know that I function poorly on less sleep which is why I dislike, no, detest having this routine screwed up. It has taken me years to understand what "I" need; and this is one of those "non-negotiable, must have requirements to function properly" things. I thought that I had made myself clear about the reasons I preferred afternoon appointments to my therapist the first two times I discussed it with him; but I reiterated them again today for the first 10 minutes of the appointment. Honestly, I cannot even remember what he said to me after I finished my spiel. Maybe, it was lack of sleep. Maybe, I dissociated. Nevertheless, the only impression I took away from today's appointment was that my therapist was distracted and seemingly uninterested in what I was saying (on his computer part of the time and on his cell phone a couple of times). He did, at least, schedule the next one (another 3 weeks away) for the afternoon. After only three appointments with this new therapist, therapy is leaving me feeling disappointed, unheard, and generally hopeless. It took so much for me to get back into therapy again after a five year long break from psychiatry. I had hoped this time might be different, that I might actually be able to work through a lot of the issues that still cause me distress. Unfortunately, there really aren't many choices for therapy where I live, especially since I have no health insurance and no money of my own to purchase such things (I guess, I'm a criminal, now, for that?); but I have to make the best out of this experience with this therapist. The unspoken words I heard today were, "Conform or don't waste my time."
  5. vakry

    Therapy

    I've been poking around in the therapy part of the board. I remember my brief sessions in the past. You know what I think a best friend is all the therapy I need. I'm in a serious *%^% it mood. Don't worry I'm not suicidal. My family seems to worry. I don't know why. I don't say dark things around them. I mope around and want to cut a few branches off the family tree, but if you knew them you'd get it. I don't have a lot of family so cutting some branches is a serious thing. I'm more likely to connect my fist in some faces than kill myself. Fist in face is a long shot. I have never hit a woman. Ever. But my sister does make me want to.
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