Monthly Archives: April 2009

Apr 29 2009

Thoughts on My Day

I met with my life coach today. I almost cancelled, since I hadn’t done any of the homework I was supposed to do and I didn’t want to let her down. But then I realized that I wouldn’t be letting her down, I just let me down. I kept the appointment and we analyzed why I didn’t do what I had said I would do, and broke things down so that I could get to work on what I’m supposed to be doing. The smaller the steps the easier things are for me. I’m getting a little nervous though about my plan to become a math tutor. I’m starting to have the self doubt and anxiety. It’s so much easier to do nothing than to do something challenging. Duh.

Then my daughter told me that our friend had to put her dog down last night. I didn’t realize how old he was – 13! He was a great dog, and it made me very sad. I can’t even imagine what my life would be without my dog. She’s only 9, so she’ll be around a good long time.

I haven’t returned my therapist’s email yet. I’m too ashamed to contact him – I don’t want him to think about me. I’m hiding. How long do you think I can hide from him?

Apr 28 2009

Guilt vs. Shame

At therapy today I told J that I felt very bad after last week’s session. We had talked about self harm and that makes me feel like crap. I also told him I don’t like him dropping last minute bombs on me, like “Our time is up, but I want you to think about xyz…..” He was fine with me telling him that, he said we need to find ways to work together, and if something he does bothers me then it needs to change. He really is very nice, isn’t he?

He also wanted to know why I didn’t email him during the week if I was feeling poorly, and I said I didn’t want to be a pest. He said he told me that it was fine to email him, and I said I didn’t know if that was a one time thing, or if I could do it more often. He assured me that I could email him as often as I want to, that I am NOT a pest, that he wants to know how I’m doing. He really is very nice, isn’t he?

So at the end of the session I gave him a letter I wrote. It was about my son’s therapist. I had never told J that the man I was obsessed with for over a year was my son’s therapist. I spelled it all out in the letter – everything that happened, how I felt, how I’m afraid of J now because I don’t want it to happen again. I apologized for giving it to him as I walked out, but he assured me that it was fine. Damn, he is too nice to me. He also asked me to email him later in the week to let him know how I’m doing.

When I leave my therapy sessions I frequently find myself lost and confused and not knowing what to do with myself. Today I decided to go out to the farm where we keep my daughter’s horse. It was a beautiful warm sunny day. I went out and watched the horses, and fed my daughter’s horse and his “friends” peanut butter crackers, grass and dandelions. There was no one there and it was peaceful and quiet. I wish I had brought my camera – I’ll bring it next time.

Then I got an email from J. It was kind of weird, but he has an unusual way of using language. I’m getting used to it I think. His email said,

“Thank you for sharing that letter with me. I think that we should both consider how we want to incorporate that data into our work.”

Data? I feel like I’m on CSI or something. OK, whatever. I’m totally embarrassed by the letter and the feelings I revealed to J in it. I’m not sure I ever want to talk to him again, or go back to see him ever again.

I don’t feel as bad this week as I did after my session last week. This week we talked about guilt. I do better with guilt than with shame. Talking about shameful things causes deep emotional pain for me. Guilt isn’t so bad. J had asked me today if we could talk for a while about my son and the guilt I feel about him. I think that would be good – talking about that for a few weeks and avoiding any shame conversations.

That is if I have the guts to ever go back.

Apr 27 2009

Living Authentically

I don’t know why I’ve been thinking so much lately about living authentically. I have relationships with friends that go back over 20 years! I treasure and value these friendships. But amazingly I feel that my friends don’t truly know me, that I hide a lot from them. I don’t know if I’m so afraid of making myself vulnerable, if I’m afraid that they won’t like me if they know the “true me”, or some other reason. I know this goes back to my childhood, when I was weird and different and I had to learn had to behave like everyone else in order to fit in. But now I’m an adult. Shouldn’t I be able to be myself now?

Apr 25 2009

Revealing Secrets

So I’m sitting on the beach today with one of my best friends. We’ve been friends for about 24 years or so. Out of the blue she says, “Did you ever get a tattoo?” I said, “Why do you ask?” because when in doubt and caught off guard it’s best to answer a question with another question. She said, “Well, I know you’ve been wanting one and I was just wondering if you ever got it.” And I got very brave and said, “Yes, I did get it.” She said, “Where is it?” I said, “On my ankle.” She said, “I don’t see it.” I said, “That is because I cover it up.” (Dermablend, MAC Studiofix, etc., works wonders). She said, “Why do you cover it up?” I said, “Because I don’t want to embarrass you.” She said, “Why would it embarrass me?” I said, “Because I know you don’t like tattoos.” She said, “Well, just because I wouldn’t get one on myself doesn’t mean that it would bother me that you have one.” I went on to explain to her how no one knows about it and how most people seem to think that having a tattoo makes one a lower class citizen. And she said if I did it for me I shouldn’t worry about what other people think. And I explained that I believe that human beings in general worry about what other people think of them, that’s just human nature. But I felt relieved that she knows about it and later today I showed it to her and she said she liked it (although I’m sure she doesn’t, but it was nice of her to say she does.) It was anxiety provoking telling her about it, but it turned out to be not so bad.

Apr 23 2009

The Story of D

In August of 2006 my son began to see a therapist. I chose this therapist because I was making phone calls to a bunch of therapists who were referred to me by the school guidance counselor and this particular one had a great voice. Not a good reason to chose a therapist, but when you know nothing about any of them you have to go with something that appeals to you, right? (I still have one of his voicemails on my phone).

We began to see the therapist, D, and I didn’t think he was anything special. I mean, he seemed like he would be a great therapist for my son. Everything I loved about him the first time I met him turned out to be everything I hated about him at the end. He had photos of his wife and kids all over his office, as well as artwork by his kids. He had a 10 year old daughter and 6 year old boy/girl twins. His wife was blonde and beautiful. I didn’t think he was particularly good looking, he was ok. I thought he was a terrible dresser. Those were my first impressions.

He was very casual and laid back, and had a somewhat “in your face” manner. Later on the secretary in the office told me that my son was the only patient D never yelled at. It seemed he used the “f” word in every sentence. As time went on I saw that boundaries weren’t really something he was much concerned with.

He mostly met with my son, but occasionally with both of us and also with me alone. Something happened in October 2006, about two months after we met. I met with D alone and he told me that he thought my son had a learning disability. I started to cry and he apologized for upsetting me. I had thought this for years, and had had my son tested a few times, but nothing ever came up. D and I met alone again the next week and I told him some personal things, but everything was in reference to my son. I thought these things would be helpful in his treatment. I found that D disclosed a lot of things about himself. He would tell me that he and his wife had an argument that morning, for example. He would talk to his wife on the speakerphone in front of me.

D helped me get school services for my son, he would come with me to meetings at school. I learned more about him. He was very open with his feelings and I am a sensitive person who can read people’s feelings very easily. Once I asked him if something was bothering him, he seemed to be troubled for a month or so, and he was very surprised that I picked up on that.

As time went on I found myself thinking about him all of the time. I made up elaborate daydreams about him. Nothing was erotic or romantic. I purposely tried a sexual fantasy about him, and it didn’t do anything for me. Mostly my daydreams were about day to day things, being friends, working together, getting sick and him taking care of me.

He did things that were on the verge of unethical, but nothing blatant enough to warrant complaints. He would double and triple book our appointments. We would show up and he wouldn’t be there, or he would be with another patient. He invited my son to be in his office basketball pool for the NCAA tournament. He and my son won the $600 pot and he gave my son a check for $300 even after I told him I was very uncomfortable with that.

He would make promises that he would help me with certain things – like forms for special ed, or assistance with an IEP, and then he wouldn’t follow through. When I would ask why he said he would help but then he wouldn’t he said it was hard for him to say no, but he would often promise to help and then run out of time. I know someone else who took his son to see D and D often didn’t follow through on his promises with them either.

When I would get angry and criticize him he would lash out at me. He told me that I was sarcastic, standoffish and difficult to work with. Then later he would tell me that he was fond of my son and me and enjoyed working with us.

He had another business, transporting “troubled teens” to residential treatment centers. This made him a lot of money, so whenever one of these situations came up he would cancel our appointment.

He frequently didn’t answer emails, simple ones where I just wanted to check on appointment times, or reschedule appointments that he cancelled.

Despite the fact that he treated us poorly my daydreams and fantasies continued out of control. I lived for Wednesdays when I could see him. I knew this was very bad for my mental health. In October 2007 I got very angry with him because of another cancelled appointment. He had asked if he could buy our pro football tickets because he knew there was a weekend when we weren’t using them. I dropped the tickets off at his office and left them on his desk, he wasn’t there. Later that day he called me to thank me for the tickets and said I didn’t need to drop them off. I asked how else he would have gotten them. He said, “I would have gotten them.” He asked how much he owed me and he would send me a check. Then he asked me if we had an appointment coming up. I said, no, you cancelled our last appointment and didn’t respond to my email asking when we could reschedule.

Then in a moment of clarity (or insanity) I said, “I’ve been thinking.” He sounded unsure and said, “Thinking is good.” I told him that my son seemed to be doing better and that I didn’t think we needed to come in anymore. He said that is fine, and thanked me for working with him. Told me how much he enjoyed working with us, and what a great parent I am to my son. I thanked him, and that was it.

Needless to say I was then devastated. I thought I made a huge mistake. I couldn’t believe what I had done. I had to call my psychiatrist and double my dosage of my antidepressant. Five months later I started to see another therapist, J, to get over D, but it was too hard to talk about and I quit after a few sessions.

I never got a check for the football tickets.

Everywhere I went I looked for D. I always thought I would run into him somewhere. It finally happened last September. We were at a restaurant and he gave me a big hug and we talked about my son. I was again devastated, and started therapy with J again in September. I don’t really talk about D in therapy, and I’m ashamed to say that I never told my new therapist that D is a therapist! I told him that we had a business relationship. I was afraid he would know D, first of all, and that he would write it off to transference and tell me to get over it.

I still think about D a lot. Not constantly like before. I’m also terrified of having this happen with my new therapist, who is younger than me and extremely handsome. But somehow I don’t have the same feelings for him as I did for D. He’s a lot nicer than D that’s for sure, but he also tends to disclose a bit too much for my liking.

I was in therapy prior to D for anxiety and phobia for 10 years. I had two therapists who were older women. I never had any transference issues with them. One of them recently retired and I knitted her a scarf as a gift. She sent me a card saying “I was asking Jean (the other therapist) if she thought our clients know that we love them. It’s not something therapists talk about, but it’s true for Jean and me. It’s one of the gifts that come with getting to know you over months and years.” Even with her saying that to me, I have no issues with transference. Yes, I love her as my therapist, but I can honestly say that I never think about her unless it’s in reference to a technique she taught me, or if I’m thinking specifically about therapy.

So many other things happened during our time with D, I can’t even describe everything. I don’t know why I feel the way I feel considering he didn’t treat me very well. The only thing I’ve come up with is that he is the type of guy who would never pay me the slightest bit of attention when I was in high school and college. He was the popular type and I was an ugly nerdy teenager. So maybe it’s because I was finally getting attention from someone like that, even though I was paying for it. I don’t know. I’m not sure I’ll ever get over it.

I feel terribly guilty for not telling my new therapist the true story about D – how he is a therapist also. I think I need for him to know. I think I’ll write him a letter about it and give it to him next week.

Apr 22 2009

A Conversation With My Son

me (10:32 PM): Hi

A (10:32 PM): hi

me (10:32 PM): I miss u. Just wanted you to know that

A (10:33 PM): thanks

me (10:33 PM): Sure. It’s weird here without you

A (10:34 PM): why

me (10:35 PM): Because I don’t know what you are doing or thinking

A (10:35 PM): how do you know what i’m thinking when i’m at home anyway

me (10:36 PM): I can feel what you’re thinking sometimes

A (10:36 PM): oh

me (10:37 PM): I think I understand you sometimes. You understand me more than dad or M I think

A (10:38 PM): probably

me (10:38 PM): You agree?

A (10:39 PM): yes

me (10:39 PM): Its hard sometimes to live with people who don’t understand you. I hope you have found people who understand you

A (10:41 PM): i think so

me (10:41 PM): It makes you feel connected and happier. So even though I miss you I hope you are successful at school so you can be with people you connect with

A (10:43 PM): thanks

me (10:43 PM): Ok time for bed. I love you !!

A (10:43 PM): love you too

me (10:44 PM): Night

A (10:44 PM): night

Apr 20 2009

The Wonder of Defense Mechanisms

I watched a movie today – Reign Over Me. It’s about a man (wonderfully played by one of my favorite actors, Adam Sandler) whose wife and three little daughters were killed on 9/11 and now he is a recluse who plays video games all day and has remodeled his kitchen 16 times. He meets an old friend who basically tricks him into seeing a therapist so that he can “get better”. He doesn’t want to talk to the therapist, but she does convince him that he needs to tell his story to someone, anyone, so that he can “get better”. He decides to go with that advice and he tells his friend the story of the day his family died. Immediately after doing so he gets out a gun, pulls it on a cop, and luckily is not killed, but taken away to a psych hospital for evaluation.

The moral of this story? Human beings have defense mechanisms. We have these for a purpose – so that we can move past horrible things and still be functional people. What’s considered functional for one person may not be for another, but would you rather have a bunch of people playing video games and remodeling kitchens, or shooting innocent people in the streets?

I’m all for defense mechanisms. I love mine. Sure, I hide behind them, but I’m totally functional. Why should I expect more out of life?

Apr 19 2009

Addiction

So apparently I’m addicted to klonopin. Who would have thought? I didn’t realize that this was a drug that one could become addicted to, since it’s the kind of drug that you can take as needed. Maybe it’s not addiction, maybe it’s dependence? I don’t know the difference and don’t really care. The last two nights I took my klonopin before bed, and I had no trouble falling asleep or staying asleep. So I guess if I want to sleep I’m going to have to get used to the idea of being addicted to klonopin. There are worse things in life I suppose. At this point I’m so happy to be sleeping that I don’t really care about anything else. I only take 1 mg before bed, so it’s not like I’m abusing it. I wonder, though, if I can develop a tolerance and if I may have to increase my dosage to get the same affect after a while. I think I’ll probably have to speak to my psychiatrist about this the next time I see him. But in the meantime I’m sleeping!

Apr 17 2009

There’s Nothing Better Than Sleep

Last week I stopped taking my klonopin. I didn’t think I needed it anymore. I was feeling good, no anxiety, no SI, pretty happy. The only problem was I wasn’t sleeping well. I couldn’t fall asleep, and once I finally did I couldn’t stay asleep. Every night my mind was like a hamster on a wheel. It would go something like this:

Wow, W looked really good today when I saw her. She looked so thin. Is she thinner than me? I can’t tell. She probably is. How much did I eat today? It didn’t seem like much, but the scale is showing a definite increase. How could I have gained a pound and a half today. I must be retaining water. What time of the month is it. Tomorrow I need to drink a lot of water. Tomorrow, tomorrow, don’t forget to go to the bank tomorrow. Oh, and I need to mail those letters. Where are the stamps? I guess I should buy some stamps. Dessert – I need to make a dessert to bring to D’s house. What should I make? I don’t have very much time. Hmm, maybe creme brulee. Do I have all of the ingredients for it? I wonder how much time it needs to be refrigerated. Oh, about D. What did she say today? Oh yeah, I remember. Let me go over that whole conversation in my head. What time is it? Shouldn’t my daughter be home from work by now. It’s so dark out, is it a full moon? What if she drove off the road and is laying in a ditch unconscious? How long before someone finds her? She should be home by 11:30, if she isn’t home by 11:45 I’ll go out and look for her. How long can a person survive if they are bleeding? How do people die in a plane crash? Well, I guess the crash kills them instantly. What about Lockerbie? Were people alive when the bomb went off, and did they go flying out of the plane? Then were they alive until they hit the ground? What about that plane in Hawaii – the sides ripped off and people got sucked out. How did they die? How long does it take to hit the ground? Maybe I should try skydiving. Maybe it will help me get over some fears. Oh god, that reminds me. What am I going to talk about in therapy on Tuesday? I have nothing to talk about. Maybe I don’t need therapy, I’m sure I’m wasting my therapist’s time. What time is it? I have to get up early. Don’t forget the water, I’ll definitely need water……

It goes on like this for hours. I swear, this is what insanity must feel like. Then I get this other thing, it’s a physical feeling, but I’m sure it’s mental. I feel like I’m jumping out of my skin. I can’t lay still, I have to move around. I remember feeling like this when I was little and in my bed at night. I don’t know what it is, but it’s awful.

Then when I finally fall asleep I wake up a couple of hours later and my mind IMMEDIATELY starts up again. It’s like this all night. Then I’m tired all day.

Last night I decided to take a klonopin – just to see what would happen. It was a miracle. I fell asleep after about 30 to 45 minutes. And I slept ALL NIGHT. I woke with a start at 7AM. I couldn’t believe it. It was the best feeling ever.

I hate having to take klonopin to sleep. It’s not a sleeping pill, I know it’s not. But I think I’ll take one tonight. There’s nothing better than sleep.