Reflecting on my graduation party (last night). Family and friends came. I hugged people, smiled, and laughed. I allowed my five year old little cousin to hang all over me (it seemed I was her favorite person that afternoon... as I left she jumped -literally- into my arms and as I set her down she did not let go of my neck until she kissed my cheek). Outwardly I appeared to be enjoying myself. I appeared happy. But I felt... nothing.
Should I have? Should I have actually FELT my apparent enjoyment and happiness?
I honestly don't understand this 'feelings' thing... I don't know when I'm missing out on a 'feelings opportunity' I do know that feeling nothing in regards to my little cousins attention (especially that last hug and kiss) was odd as, when I am able to actually able to feel and identify something (usually happiness and/or enjoyment) it is with little ones.
Anyway, the thought struck me that this... lack of feelings, for lack of a better term, may be a big part of why the thought of death does not bother me... That only occasional feelings and emotions make it easier to take it or leave it as far as life is concerned. Why that would be I am not exactly sure... but I really think that it is a good possibility.
*shrug* Ah, well, who knows. Anyway maybe I'm not really as different as I think. Maybe others don't experience feelings/emotions as often as I think they do. I don't know. I don't think I really understand... And I'm not sure I ever will...
I hate this.
Sunday, June 29, 2008
Saturday, June 21, 2008
My Double Standard OR Explaining Pathetic (for Shiv:-))
As double standards go it could definitely be worse. At least I don't hold everyone else to a higher standard than I do myself. As a matter of fact, the problem is I am not as understanding with myself as I am with others.
Let me explain.
Were I to read a blog post such as the last one I wrote, my response would be much like Shiv's. Someone dealing with all that and still coming out (mostly) in tact isn't pathetic. In fact they are to be lauded for their ability to survive it, supported and encouraged. Mental illness is not a character flaw or a personality defect, it is exactly that: an illness.
Unfortunately I can't seem to apply such thinking to my own... 'issues'. Instead I am pathetic or 'such an idiot' or 'so stupid' as I often mutter to myself. Maybe it's because I believe I lost control. I've been depressed for years, we're talking almost half my life. And I was able to function in my daily life, keep from others the fact that I felt awful. But as my last post stated, this last year was the year I lost control (and I can only think it is because I finally gave up). And the more people made aware of it, the more pathetic I feel.
It seems like everyone and their dog knows just how messed up I am any more.
Just about everyone at the uni health centre, at least three of the counsellors at the counselling centre (though, come to think of it, I got brought up at some meeting they all have -health and counselling sides- after me 'week from hell' which culminated in that trip to the ER and stitches on my wrist... So they all know), two folks at community mental health...
Everyone at work has seen my cuts/scars (short sleeves for work). And now, in order to get into this apartment before the place I'm living in now kicks me out, I'm technically 'homeless' and have a bloody caseworker! Better still? It turns out he graduated from the same uni in the same major and worked at the dining hall, all during the same time I was there!
Do you know how much information caseworkers get? Pretty much all of it. He doesn't know (yet?) that I'm on meds... Or that I cut... Or that I was almost admitted twice.
He does know I'm in therapy (fun times) and probably has a good idea that I'm allowed to keep my cat because I'm 'nuts' (as the apartment I am moving to doesn't allow pets unless they're 'therapy pets'... Hence the prescription for my cat).
Ugh, and they (caseworkers) ask all sorts of fun questions:
Do you have transportation? A job? These I can understand, sound like 'caseworker like' questions.
But:
Do you drink/smoke?
Yes, I drink a bit.
*searching look* Do you think you need help with that?
Are you getting enough to eat? Do you think you're getting enough nutritionally?
I eat like a college student, it's not great but I eat. -and here it's great that he worked the same place I do-
At work, you get something to eat there? No, they don't feed us.
*well controlled surprise on his part* They used to.
Yeah, I remember that, but they don't anymore.
Is M. still there? She was usually good about that.
Yeah, she's there and she let's us eat sometimes but since it's not allowed it depends on who's there (superior wise). (Come on, is it that important that I eat well as long as I'm eating? Quit asking about it!)
And then we get to health (physical/mental).
Do you have health insurance?
No.
It says you're in some sort of therapy/counselling...
Yes'ir
Where are you going for therapy?
On campus.
Are you seeing one of the grad students? No, one of the interns at *hand gesture as I'm too pathetic to say 'counselling centre' to this guy who can't be much older than me*
The counselling centre?
Yep.
(Come to think of it he knows about the meds because where I go for those was discussed too.)
Can you continue going there (uni health and counselling centre) after the summer ends? No.
Will you need help finding some place for therapy then?
*shrug* I'll cross that bridge when I get to it.
*searching look* What will you do?
I was kind of thinking about just not doing it. (I didn't tell him that I was thinking of dropping therapy and continuing meds -meaning I need to find a doctor- because I can't afford both).
How about money, about how much do you make a month?
*thinking, adding* About _____
Are you able to live of off _____?
*shrug* For the most part... The cat gets fed, rent gets paid.
Do you have any overdue bills?
I have two (forgot to mention the hospital bill from my ER visit). I'm working on it, I don't like being behind.
*nods*
They even give pretty much the same confidentiality speech as a therapist/psych/doctor might. Only his started with:
Is there anyone you think should be included in this?
*shaking my head no*
*searching look* (he was waiting for me to say my therapist) Alright, well everything we talk about here is confidential unless... (Which followed the basic 'danger to self or others' bit)...
*Me: All that fun stuff.
Yeah, it was all pretty much like that. And he's a nice guy, don't get me wrong (and learned his psychology stuff well). But he's just one other person to ask me how I'm doing, how I'm feeling, etc. Personal stuff (like how I'm eating, for crying out loud!) that I don't talk to folks about.
It's even worse that he thought he recognised me, and probably did since we were probably in the psych program at the same time and I know we had to have worked at the dining hall at the same time (because M. (supervisor) didn't start working there until after I did).
I don't know what in the world I did to deserve this sometimes crippling depression... But isn't that enough? Why add insult to injury?
Let me explain.
Were I to read a blog post such as the last one I wrote, my response would be much like Shiv's. Someone dealing with all that and still coming out (mostly) in tact isn't pathetic. In fact they are to be lauded for their ability to survive it, supported and encouraged. Mental illness is not a character flaw or a personality defect, it is exactly that: an illness.
Unfortunately I can't seem to apply such thinking to my own... 'issues'. Instead I am pathetic or 'such an idiot' or 'so stupid' as I often mutter to myself. Maybe it's because I believe I lost control. I've been depressed for years, we're talking almost half my life. And I was able to function in my daily life, keep from others the fact that I felt awful. But as my last post stated, this last year was the year I lost control (and I can only think it is because I finally gave up). And the more people made aware of it, the more pathetic I feel.
It seems like everyone and their dog knows just how messed up I am any more.
Just about everyone at the uni health centre, at least three of the counsellors at the counselling centre (though, come to think of it, I got brought up at some meeting they all have -health and counselling sides- after me 'week from hell' which culminated in that trip to the ER and stitches on my wrist... So they all know), two folks at community mental health...
Everyone at work has seen my cuts/scars (short sleeves for work). And now, in order to get into this apartment before the place I'm living in now kicks me out, I'm technically 'homeless' and have a bloody caseworker! Better still? It turns out he graduated from the same uni in the same major and worked at the dining hall, all during the same time I was there!
Do you know how much information caseworkers get? Pretty much all of it. He doesn't know (yet?) that I'm on meds... Or that I cut... Or that I was almost admitted twice.
He does know I'm in therapy (fun times) and probably has a good idea that I'm allowed to keep my cat because I'm 'nuts' (as the apartment I am moving to doesn't allow pets unless they're 'therapy pets'... Hence the prescription for my cat).
Ugh, and they (caseworkers) ask all sorts of fun questions:
Do you have transportation? A job? These I can understand, sound like 'caseworker like' questions.
But:
Do you drink/smoke?
Yes, I drink a bit.
*searching look* Do you think you need help with that?
Are you getting enough to eat? Do you think you're getting enough nutritionally?
I eat like a college student, it's not great but I eat. -and here it's great that he worked the same place I do-
At work, you get something to eat there? No, they don't feed us.
*well controlled surprise on his part* They used to.
Yeah, I remember that, but they don't anymore.
Is M. still there? She was usually good about that.
Yeah, she's there and she let's us eat sometimes but since it's not allowed it depends on who's there (superior wise). (Come on, is it that important that I eat well as long as I'm eating? Quit asking about it!)
And then we get to health (physical/mental).
Do you have health insurance?
No.
It says you're in some sort of therapy/counselling...
Yes'ir
Where are you going for therapy?
On campus.
Are you seeing one of the grad students? No, one of the interns at *hand gesture as I'm too pathetic to say 'counselling centre' to this guy who can't be much older than me*
The counselling centre?
Yep.
(Come to think of it he knows about the meds because where I go for those was discussed too.)
Can you continue going there (uni health and counselling centre) after the summer ends? No.
Will you need help finding some place for therapy then?
*shrug* I'll cross that bridge when I get to it.
*searching look* What will you do?
I was kind of thinking about just not doing it. (I didn't tell him that I was thinking of dropping therapy and continuing meds -meaning I need to find a doctor- because I can't afford both).
How about money, about how much do you make a month?
*thinking, adding* About _____
Are you able to live of off _____?
*shrug* For the most part... The cat gets fed, rent gets paid.
Do you have any overdue bills?
I have two (forgot to mention the hospital bill from my ER visit). I'm working on it, I don't like being behind.
*nods*
They even give pretty much the same confidentiality speech as a therapist/psych/doctor might. Only his started with:
Is there anyone you think should be included in this?
*shaking my head no*
*searching look* (he was waiting for me to say my therapist) Alright, well everything we talk about here is confidential unless... (Which followed the basic 'danger to self or others' bit)...
*Me: All that fun stuff.
Yeah, it was all pretty much like that. And he's a nice guy, don't get me wrong (and learned his psychology stuff well). But he's just one other person to ask me how I'm doing, how I'm feeling, etc. Personal stuff (like how I'm eating, for crying out loud!) that I don't talk to folks about.
It's even worse that he thought he recognised me, and probably did since we were probably in the psych program at the same time and I know we had to have worked at the dining hall at the same time (because M. (supervisor) didn't start working there until after I did).
I don't know what in the world I did to deserve this sometimes crippling depression... But isn't that enough? Why add insult to injury?
Friday, June 20, 2008
A Year of Giving Up
Spring term.
A worrisome cut.
A doctors visit.
A 'crisis' counselling session.
Another doctors visit.
A summers worth of therapy.
Zoloft.
More therapy fall term.
Withdraw from a class.
Sporadically attend the other two.
Meds appointments.
Over doses.
Winter term. Therapy.
Academic and financial aid probation.
Withdraw from same class.
Attend other two slightly more often than last term.
Meds appointments.
Paxil.
Zoloft.
Stitches.
More over doses.
Spring term. Therapy
Financial aid probation.
Stitches.
Almost admitted to hospital.
Two additional therapy sessions that week.
Emergency room (same week). This ones more serious (hit a vein) . Stitches. Narrowly escape admittance.
Wellbutrin (in addition to the Zoloft).
So many meds appointments...
Have to graduate.
Continue in all classes, attend sporadically.
Try and find housing.
Job hunting.
Government housing.
Though still in apartment am technically homeless as I must be out by July 7th.
Lots of paper work.
Prescription for my cat(?).
Still more over doses.
Graduate, but just barely.
Summer. More therapy.
More over doses.
Meds appointments.
Work at old job, one last summer.
HopeSource.
Caseworker.
Pathetic.
All those years being in control of my depression. One year of giving up.
I once had plans, dreams, and goals.
I now have one day at a time, and a future that makes me wonder if there really is a point. No goals, no dreams, no plans or desires. No motivation, no will.
It took a long time to hit bottom. But I am there. It's a long way back up. And I am tired.
A worrisome cut.
A doctors visit.
A 'crisis' counselling session.
Another doctors visit.
A summers worth of therapy.
Zoloft.
More therapy fall term.
Withdraw from a class.
Sporadically attend the other two.
Meds appointments.
Over doses.
Winter term. Therapy.
Academic and financial aid probation.
Withdraw from same class.
Attend other two slightly more often than last term.
Meds appointments.
Paxil.
Zoloft.
Stitches.
More over doses.
Spring term. Therapy
Financial aid probation.
Stitches.
Almost admitted to hospital.
Two additional therapy sessions that week.
Emergency room (same week). This ones more serious (hit a vein) . Stitches. Narrowly escape admittance.
Wellbutrin (in addition to the Zoloft).
So many meds appointments...
Have to graduate.
Continue in all classes, attend sporadically.
Try and find housing.
Job hunting.
Government housing.
Though still in apartment am technically homeless as I must be out by July 7th.
Lots of paper work.
Prescription for my cat(?).
Still more over doses.
Graduate, but just barely.
Summer. More therapy.
More over doses.
Meds appointments.
Work at old job, one last summer.
HopeSource.
Caseworker.
Pathetic.
All those years being in control of my depression. One year of giving up.
I once had plans, dreams, and goals.
I now have one day at a time, and a future that makes me wonder if there really is a point. No goals, no dreams, no plans or desires. No motivation, no will.
It took a long time to hit bottom. But I am there. It's a long way back up. And I am tired.
Monday, June 2, 2008
Thoughts and Observations on Feeling
I had another therapy session this afternoon. First in a week and a half. First since the disastrous one 11 days ago). Good lord, I wonder if it was as draining and hard on him as it was for me. :-( I almost cried and I am very much hoping he didn't hear it in my voice the time I came the closest. Chip, chip, chip... Sure, you'll get some emotions, some feelings if you keep on about them. If you keep bringing them up, always asking 'What is it like for you now?','What are you feeling now?','How does it feel to have said that?'... *shudder* Even writing those questions made me feel uncomfortable.
I hated talking about last session. I hated trying to explain I was mad without actually having to say it. Responding in the affirmative when he suggested that I had been hurt (I didn't actually say it myself). I felt ripped apart, bruised and battered along with a myriad of other things I can't identify or describe. Unfortunately I think it might have been a good thing. But God, I hated it, I really did.
Feelings? Who cares, I don't know what am I am missing. And if I am unaware of the fact that it exists for other people, that I am the exception rather than the rule...
To actually FEEL feelings... Is it strange that I had always been under the impression that a physical sensation attached to a feeling was not the norm, but rather something that didn't really happen all that often? I remember one time while I was in Junior High... I hugged my grandma, no special reason just, you know, what grandparents and grandkids do. And I felt something in my chest... I don't know how to describe it except to say that it felt good. I thought it was so cool, I didn't remember feeling anything like that before. A few days later I was at my best friends house and I was telling her mother about this exciting thing that I had experienced when I hugged my grandma and she gave me a funny... 'Yes... don't you always feel that?'.
Well, as I said I didn't remember feeling it before and so I probably thought the question was a little strange. I do remember being embarrassed a bit but not knowing why. I certainly didn't think on it long enough to wonder if everyone felt it much more often then I did.
Fast forward about ten years or so and I find myself medicated and talking for 50 minutes a week to someone I didn't know from Adam nine months ago.
With therapy always coming back to my 'feelings' it didn't take long before I realised that this disconnect my therapist was eluding to might have a part in that story of 10 years ago. That what was for me something novel and exciting, might actually be pretty common place for everyone. That this evident shying away from feelings that I have been told I do (with which I agree and believe me if you had been in my session today, experienced it from my point of view you'd agree too), somehow could be connected to that as well.
Does it matter? Should I miss something I wasn't all that aware of to begin with, now that it has been made known to me? 'Think about your feelings, sit with your feelings, identify you're feelings'... I'd rather not, thanks, especially not the bad ones: the anger, the hurt and pain, the impatience, the jealousy... I could keep going. Probably there are some on my list others wouldn't consider bad. *shrug* It is entirely possible they are not. I know I have a tendency to be hardest on myself, to be my own worst critic. Not a day goes by I don't berate myself for something. But such is my existence, such is MY normal, and I don't know how to fix it. 24 years is, after all, a lot to try and undo.
I hated talking about last session. I hated trying to explain I was mad without actually having to say it. Responding in the affirmative when he suggested that I had been hurt (I didn't actually say it myself). I felt ripped apart, bruised and battered along with a myriad of other things I can't identify or describe. Unfortunately I think it might have been a good thing. But God, I hated it, I really did.
Feelings? Who cares, I don't know what am I am missing. And if I am unaware of the fact that it exists for other people, that I am the exception rather than the rule...
To actually FEEL feelings... Is it strange that I had always been under the impression that a physical sensation attached to a feeling was not the norm, but rather something that didn't really happen all that often? I remember one time while I was in Junior High... I hugged my grandma, no special reason just, you know, what grandparents and grandkids do. And I felt something in my chest... I don't know how to describe it except to say that it felt good. I thought it was so cool, I didn't remember feeling anything like that before. A few days later I was at my best friends house and I was telling her mother about this exciting thing that I had experienced when I hugged my grandma and she gave me a funny... 'Yes... don't you always feel that?'.
Well, as I said I didn't remember feeling it before and so I probably thought the question was a little strange. I do remember being embarrassed a bit but not knowing why. I certainly didn't think on it long enough to wonder if everyone felt it much more often then I did.
Fast forward about ten years or so and I find myself medicated and talking for 50 minutes a week to someone I didn't know from Adam nine months ago.
With therapy always coming back to my 'feelings' it didn't take long before I realised that this disconnect my therapist was eluding to might have a part in that story of 10 years ago. That what was for me something novel and exciting, might actually be pretty common place for everyone. That this evident shying away from feelings that I have been told I do (with which I agree and believe me if you had been in my session today, experienced it from my point of view you'd agree too), somehow could be connected to that as well.
Does it matter? Should I miss something I wasn't all that aware of to begin with, now that it has been made known to me? 'Think about your feelings, sit with your feelings, identify you're feelings'... I'd rather not, thanks, especially not the bad ones: the anger, the hurt and pain, the impatience, the jealousy... I could keep going. Probably there are some on my list others wouldn't consider bad. *shrug* It is entirely possible they are not. I know I have a tendency to be hardest on myself, to be my own worst critic. Not a day goes by I don't berate myself for something. But such is my existence, such is MY normal, and I don't know how to fix it. 24 years is, after all, a lot to try and undo.
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