Family Therapist #2

Last night my husband and I met with family therapist #2 – Dr. S. He only wanted to meet with us, not with my son. He is a very nice guy, and the session went exactly how I thought it would, but not how I wanted it to go. I did 99% of the talking. I tried not to answer questions so that my husband would be forced to say something, but whenever Dr. S asked us a question and I would be silent my husband would just look at me. Finally I blurted out “Why do you keep looking at me? Why do I have to do all the talking?”

Dr. S didn’t do a good job of getting my husband to talk, maybe he didn’t even try. We got on the subject of us giving our son money, and I said that my son knows not to even ask me. So Dr. S asked if my husband gave him money, and my husband said that my son doesn’t need money because he doesn’t do anything. And it may be true that my husband doesn’t give him money, but he buys him concert tickets, pays $100 entry fees for poker tournaments for him, and is paying all of his expenses for the Coachella festival which is on the other side of the country. Dr. S didn’t ask if my husband buys my son anything, just if he gives him money.

I also brought up the fact that the children were always my domain and responsibility – health, education, activities, etc. I was the stay at home mom, and I didn’t really know what the job entailed until I was doing it. Even now, for example, my husband has no idea what courses our kids are taking at school. I know all of my daughter’s courses, her schedule, her current gpa, how many credits she has, etc. All he knows is that she goes to Tulane and is in her second year. He doesn’t know what medications they take, or their friends’ names.

I said that I work now. Neither my husband nor Dr. S responded. So I said “Well, I don’t really make much money, so I guess the kids are still my responsibility.” Neither of them said anything to that either.

Dr. S looked at me the whole time he was talking, so finally I stopped looking at him. Then I noticed he looked at me most of the time, with glances at my husband.

I wish that he had wanted to meet with all three of us. I like when the focus is on my son, and not on me. Dr. S asked if my husband and I are on the same page, he said he gets the feeling that we aren’t, and I said I agreed with that. My husband didn’t say anything.

So now my son is going to meet with Dr. S and then we’ll decide who we want to see – Dr. C or Dr. S. I don’t think we need to interview anymore psychologists. As of now I don’t have a preference for one or the other. But I hope whichever one we pick will be able to get my husband and my son to talk, because I don’t want to be the only one talking


Therapy Recap 12/27/11

After I asked J how his Christmas was, he immediately asked me how it went with the family therapist.  First I had to find out if J was a friend of Dr. C, but he said although he has met him once or twice they are not friends.  I basically told him my impressions, the good and the bad, and then said that I am having second thoughts about seeing a family therapist.

We discussed that for some time.  J is really encouraging me to do this family therapy, he never said anything like, “If you feel it’s not right then don’t do it.”  I guess he thinks my son, and my husband and I, really need to move forward or we’ll be 90 years old, my son will be 60 and we’ll all still be living together.

At one point we went off on a tangent.  J was saying that there are certain things your kids have to do, that there is no wiggle room.  Like getting vaccinations, you don’t tell your child “It’s ok, you don’t have to get shots today.”  Well, that is exactly what I did with my son, and I thought that J was saying it is a bad thing, but when I explained what I was doing he said I was using a good strategy, and what he was talking about was saying to the child “You have to get shots today….you have to get shots today….oh, ok, you don’t want shots?  OK, you don’t need to get them today.”

What I did with my son, because he had and still has a horrible needle phobia, was to tell the doctor that if it is time for vaccinations we would come back for them.  If my son knew he was getting shots he would be in a panic during the whole exam, and he would be unable to talk to the doctor, even unable to stand on the scale sometimes.  Needless to say his pulse and blood pressure were off the charts.  When he knew that no needles were coming he was calm and relaxed and was able to have a complete exam and talk about any concerns with the doctor.  Now, I did not do this when he was a baby or toddler, it was later in his childhood.

I find that this happens somewhat often, and I know it is something that I do.  I latch onto something that J says and go off on a tangent, this time it must have been about 10 minutes of talking about this.  I get angry at myself later for doing this, because really, discussing this had nothing to do with the topic of the family therapist and why I am having negative thoughts about proceeding.  I think I do this to avoid talking about the real issues?

J and I talked more about how I believe it is my fault that my son is where he is today, and I don’t want to do anything else that will end up being my fault.  I wasn’t very happy that Dr. C didn’t engage my husband more, but J said he was probably just observing the family dynamics at this point.  J also says that nothing was my fault, and I said “You weren’t there” which is how the conversation always goes when we get to this topic.  I told J that I don’t want any of this to be about me, I want the therapy to focus on my son.

He also started in with what I should say to my husband, and to the therapist, and I just looked at him.  He said, “Do you think you can say those things?”  I told him that no, I could not.  He asked how a therapist might figure out that my husband was not too involved in the raising of the kids, and I said that when the therapist asks us a question, I won’t answer.  Of course my husband won’t be able to answer.  When the therapist sees that my husband can’t answer, I’ll do the answering.  J said, “So you will hint as to the relationship you and your husband have with your son.”  I said that if he is a good therapist he should figure it out pretty quickly.  J said that as I get more comfortable with the family therapist I can mention how I feel about my husband’s lack of involvement.  But that is not something I need to think about now, now I just want to find someone that we are all comfortable with.

The next therapist interview isn’t until the middle of January, and this one just wants to see my husband and me.  I’m curious as to how that will go.  Dr. C was very focused on my son and asking him questions.  Without my son being in the session my husband and I won’t have that buffer, the therapist will just be talking to us, and asking us questions.  It could be very different.

So that was about it, and I won’t see J next week because I am going on vacation to the Dominican Republic with my husband.  Another couple that we are friends with are joining us after the first three days.  I am so looking forward to this vacation.  Right now though, I am feeling somewhat overwhelmed – I need to get all of my summer clothes together, they get packed away every winter and I have to find some to take with me, and my daughter volunteered our house for her horse barn holiday party on Friday night, which means cleaning, organizing and cooking.  Ack.


Discovering Xanax

My son’s second day of his return to college. He was waitlisted for 2 out of the 3 classes that he wanted, and unfortunately a space did not open up in either of them. He did wait until the last minute to register.

And since he doesn’t drive, he is taking the bus to school, which involves a walk of 6/10 of a mile to the bus and two different busses with a wait in between. It takes about an hour; to drive would take 10 minutes. He feels it is not worth the travel effort to take one class, despite the fact that he does nothing else all day. So he wants to wait until next semester to start.

I am not happy.

But this afternoon I got an IM from him asking where the Xanax is because he doesn’t feel well. The only other time he has taken Xanax is when he had his blood test a couple of weeks ago. So I told him where the Xanax was.

A little while later I came home and my husband was just getting home with dinner for him and my son. Son comes downstairs and I ask, “What did you get?” He replies, “lkuw3roin;>fjvn98u38ufdskj.” I said, “What?” He laughs and says, “Quesadillas.” I said, “Did that medicine make you crazy?” He laughed and said, “Yeah.”

So later we are IMing each other and I said maybe next time he should take half a pill, since it seems to have worked too much. He said it worked pretty quickly and worked well. Oh, and by the way, “I took three of them.” I said, “Did I say to take 3?” He said, “Well, for the blood test I took 2 and I felt worse today so I took 3.” They are only .5mg each, but still! He did seem pretty happy though.

I asked if he would like to go to the doctor and get his very own Xanax and he said he would. So we will go to the pdoc, who normally pushes the AD’s. I wonder what he will give my son. I already told him to be prepared and that he can’t take this every day. He said he doesn’t need it every day, only when he is having a panic attack. I said, “Did you have a panic attack today?” And he said he was close.

I am glad he is opening up to me about this. But I also feel so badly for him. Everything is difficult, and I know part of it is his anxiety/dysthymia, etc. Part is learned behavior as well, and I would like him to unlearn this before it gets too ingrained.

But we had a nice discussion about AD’s vs benzos and I was frank with him about my experience with both. He has a good friend in Alberta (he visited her once) and she is very knowledgeable about these meds as well, since she has been on a number of them and also doesn’t seem to do anything all day so she has a lot of time to research things on wikipedia. I think she is advising him. She probably told him today to ask me for the Xanax.

So my son has discovered the joy of psychiatric medications. Let’s hope he doesn’t need too many of them. Just enough to function in the world?


College Life

We called my daughter Saturday afternoon from the car – speakerphone so we could all talk to her, my husband, my son and me. She didn’t really have much to say. My husband kept pestering her about eating breakfast (she has never eaten breakfast past the age of about 2) and that got a rise out of her and she yelled at him. But otherwise she sounded kind of flat. Everything was “fine” and “good” and we had to ask really specific questions to get any info. It didn’t make me feel good.

But tonight she IM’d me and told me she went to an Equestrian Club meeting. If there is anything that can cheer her up it is horses and riding. She wants to join the Equestrian Club, and I need to send her some supplies like her boots and helmet and chaps and some riding jeans. Oh, and since I’m sending her things can I send oreos and goldfish?

I sent her homemade oatmeal chocolate chip cookies on Saturday and they arrived today! That is fast for 1000 miles. Gotta love the US Postal system.

So I’m going out to the barn on Thursday to get her things and ship them to her. It’s so nice to hear her sounding excited. She said she met other girls on her floor who ride because they had a floor meeting last week, and I guess they talked about things they did at home. Girls who ride horses just seem to have a connection, and it’s something that I was always grateful for, despite the cost. It’s an expensive hobby, but she has made close friends, developed a great sense of responsibility, and is able to relate to people of all ages through her experience with riding.

So in about 10 days she is going to go to the barn near the university and have an evaluation to see what level she is at, and maybe sign up for lessons and a riding team. It’s not a competitive riding team, which her school does have, but I don’t want her doing that, and I guess she knows it. She was never a fan of competitive riding, even though she did do it. She had a lot of anxiety when she showed. But I think riding just for fun will be great for her at school. I’m feeling so relieved.

picasso

And my son starts his classes at the community college tomorrow. Wow, so much growing up going on!


Therapy Update 8/24/10 and More

It’s been a long time since I’ve written. Here’s an update:

August 18: stayed up until 1am finishing project for boss.

August 19: dropped off project at 8am. Went to work for R, the other boss, and stayed all day making travel arrangements for his son who decided at the last minute to go to Rwanda.

My daughter, M, asked me to go out to the barn where she keeps her horse on Thursday night to take pictures. It would be the last time she would be spending time with her horse, the last time she might ever see him, because we are trying to sell him.

August 20: Leave at 5:30am to fly to New Orleans. Spend the day walking around the city, shopping in the suburbs, and going out to dinner. Hus goes next door to the casino. Couldn’t sleep – people across the hall having a party, and I have chest pains.

August 21: Leave bright and early to pack the car and drive to the dorm. Get M all moved into her room. Another trip to the suburbs with her roommate and family to buy/exchange items for the room. Her roommate’s hometown is 350 miles away, and her family offered to have M travel there in case of a hurricane. That was nice – since we live 1000 miles away.

M was cranky at dinner, arguing with my husband about where to eat. But we ended up going where she wanted to go and I am happy about that. She wanted to go to PF Chang’s. Usually not one’s first choice when in New Orleans, but she is not a fan of Cajun food. Drop her off at dorm.

Hus and I go back to hotel. He goes next door to the casino. I really want a drink, but the little bottle of red wine in the minibar costs $28 and I couldn’t bring myself to spend that much. That proves I’m not an alcoholic, right? But my husband could be a compulsive gambler.

August 22: The husband and I go out for beignets in the morning, then drive to campus for meetings, orientations, and more shopping. Now we buy the textbooks and computer software. M insisted on buying a Mac despite the fact that the business school requires windows. So we bought and installed windows parallel, windows for mac, and Microsoft office, and I installed and set up all of those on her computer. M was very cranky, she hadn’t eaten, and with the heat index the temperature was 110 degrees (I believe that is 43 degrees Celsius, which sounds a lot cooler). My husband asked me what was going on with her, and I said, “She is stressed.” He replied, “What does she have to be stressed about?”

For some reason this was like a revelation to me. How could he be so clueless? I said, “Hello….she is starting college tomorrow????” He just has no idea.

Finally we got her room and her computer set up, and she looked like she really needed to be alone, so we did the hugs and kisses and I love you’s and goodbyes. Then drove off.

Got home at 1am and collapsed. Oh, and our plane had direct tv and I watched “Sex and the City Part II” and had a margarita. Mindless movies and margaritas really help with fear of flying.

August 23: I have to go to work for S. I didn’t really want to see her or talk to her or work or take a shower or leave the house. So I putter around for a while, then go over there at noon. I stayed for about 5 hours and it wasn’t bad. There was a little chill in the air at first, but things warmed up. Maybe the worst is over. Then drove my son, A, over to the community college to meet with an advisor. She gave him the info he needs to sign up for classes.

Yesterday was the day, 5 years ago, that Hurricane Katrina formed in the Atlantic Ocean. This week there are many documentaries on tv, some repeated from 5 years ago, some new ones showing the changes that have happened since that time. I was pretty attached to the news coverage of Katrina five years ago, and it was re-ignited when I went to Mississippi in April. So last night I started watching some of these documentaries.

August 24: Wake up. Can’t get out of bed. Feeling very bad. Want to stay in bed all day. Need to make my 8am call to my boss, but can’t do it. Finally get up because I have to pee. Make coffee. Sit at computer all morning. Don’t want to shower. Finally do. Have to go to therapy. Put on some crappy clothes, throw on some makeup, kind of comb my hair.

Therapy = not so good. I told J I wasn’t feeling well. He said, “Are you coming down with something?” That isn’t what I meant. He gave me my box so I could see what it is in it. I read all the slips of paper and gave it back. He asked when my daughter is going to college and I said she left. He asked how that went and I said fine. I put a wall up. He tried to get past it, but it was impenetrable. He spent the session talking about the dentist story that I told him last week. I got annoyed after about 30 minutes of this and asked, or perhaps raised my voice and yelled, why are we talking about this. He said it is important and it is plaguing me. I got more annoyed and raised my voice more and said it has not been plaguing me, I haven’t even thought about it since January until it came up again last week. He said it is representative of how I take what other people say and that is how I think of myself, instead of coming up with my own perceptions of myself.

He asked again if we could talk about my daughter. I really wanted to talk about it, but I can’t. I did get teary eyed, but didn’t cry. I swear I’ll never cry in therapy. He asked if she were to write about her experience with me taking her to college what she would write. I told him I thought it would be positive.

But I felt terrible when I left. I didn’t know what to do with myself. I drove around for a while, then went to a restaurant and had 2 margaritas and a salad. And some bread to soak up the liquor.

Then I went to the GI doctor because of the chest pains, and he told me I need a CT scan of my heart and lungs to rule out problems with my aorta and a pulmonary embolism. And I need an endoscopy. Came home, made the appointments, and spend the rest of the day drinking.

And crying. I don’t feel well. Things aren’t good. People are calling me and texting me, and I’m not taking their calls, not answering their texts. A couple people emailed and facebooked, and I managed to write back a few words.

I sent J an email apologizing for yelling at him and he said not to worry about it.

I have so much to say, but I can’t say it. I wish he had used the box today, but he didn’t even suggest it. He just wanted to talk about the dentist story. I don’t understand. I don’t know anything. I’m going to watch more documentaries about Katrina.


Should I Quit

I’ve written about the problems I am having with my boss, S, for whom I work about 5 hours a week. I did the big project for her, it was wrong because she gave me wrong instruction, I didn’t have time to redo it and she was upset because she had to do it herself. Now I am doing another big project for her. I started it Saturday and worked all weekend on it. But I needed her input in order to do it properly, so we sat down together Monday and I got all of the information. I had asked her last week when this project needed to be completed and she said August 20.

On Monday I told her I would have it done by the 20th. She said, “Aren’t you leaving on the 20th?” I said yes I was, but I would drop it off before I leave. This project involves making two folders for each client, and inside they have a personalized chart, a letter and between 6 and 10 addressed envelopes, each envelope addressed to a different college. Each envelope also has a return address label for the high school that the student attends. So each student’s folders are highly individualized. I have been working on them all week, since I got the information from her on Monday.

This morning she called me and wanted to know if I had any of the students’ folders complete. I told her that I did have some of them done. She said she is meeting with 6 students today and 10 tomorrow and she wishes she could have the folders to give to them because if she doesn’t give them the folders this week they will have to come back. She said, “Are they at your house?” I said, “Actually they are in my car.” She said, “Well I have James Doe here right now and I wish I could give him his folders.” I said, “I can’t come over there right now.” She said, “Well when can you get them here?” I said “I was planning on dropping them off tomorrow.” She said, “When tomorrow?” Well, I was planning on dropping them off late at night because I really need more time to finish them, but it was obvious she wanted them NOW, so I said, “I’ll drop them off in the morning.”

She said, “Well, I guess that’s the best we can do. But I am seeing a lot of students today and tomorrow and I wish I could give them their folders.” I said, “I’ll drop them off in the morning.”

Sigh. She had told me she needed them by the 20th. That is Friday. Now she is upset that she doesn’t have them now. I am still not done with them.

I am so stressed out by this. I really think she is not happy with the fact that I can’t commit every minute of my life to her right now, and I’m thinking she would be happier if she had someone else working for her. I wonder if she can find someone to work 5 hours a week at her beck and call.

Is this really worth it? Will this blow over? I feel she is so frustrated and annoyed at me and I don’t like that feeling.

I was planning on doing a lot of the work at the hospital this morning – my son was going in for his barium xray and they said it would take 3 hours. We got him all settled in and I went to the waiting room and started to work – I had brought 4 bags of work materials into the hospital in the pouring rain! After about 1/2 an hour I got called into the xray room and it turns out when they gave him the fizzy stuff to swallow he threw up and they said they couldn’t do the test. He didn’t even get to the barium part.

Oh, and the radiologist said to me, “Maybe you can make him swallow it.” Huh? How would I do that?

So we both left feeling like failures, my son for throwing up the fizzy stuff, and me for not being able to make him swallow it.

And I barely got any of the work done for S, and now she is annoyed, even though she told me the project was due on the 20th.

Should I quit? Oh, she pays me $30 an hour. She is very generous.


Buried?

I am sinking it seems. Last night I watched the entirety of the Bourne Identity, on DVD, not the Tivo version. However, those of you who suggested I watch happier movies will be pleased to note that when I finished with that one, I discovered that the last half hour of 50 First Dates was on, which I watched, and that went immediately into Along Came Polly, which I watched the first half of. I love both of those movies as well.

However today I downloaded the Bourne Ultimatum onto my Ipod, and started watching it. And then I found an article and a video about a suicide hotline on the New York Times website and I read the article and started to watch the video, but it was making me cry. And then I read an email I got from my daughter’s college and it said we had to have an evacuation plan in case of a hurricane, and that made me start to cry.

But tonight my son and I went to see a HILARICAL (a word a good friend of mine made up and I think it is so so cute) – Dinner For Shmucks. I loved this movie, so much laughing. You know what I love – listening to other people laugh. During the movie I noticed the laughs of so many people. There is nothing like a spontaneous burst out laugh, it just makes you want to laugh yourself.

However, —– scary stuff ahead ——

There was a really scary preview before the movie (which is weird because usually the previews match the movie). Some background:

When I was 11 I went to sleep away camp. I don’t think I really wanted to go, but my parents thought it would be good. I think it was 6 weeks, but I could be remembering it wrong. Maybe it was 3. It was a very religiously observant camp, and we were not an observant family, so I felt uncomfortable from the start. Not to mention I was a total weirdo, and had no social skills. It was a basic disaster.

And that is where I had my first panic attack. It was night, and the counselors were telling ghost stories. Pretty typical stuff. But one of the stories was about someone who was buried alive. That was when I panicked. And the panic attacks remained.

Then I always had a terrible fear of choking, drowning, not being able to breathe. I was triggered by so many things. My father died of congestive heart failure, which is basically drowning in your own body fluids. I am terrified of choking to death. I never eat hard candy; my kids always thought I was crazy for pounding hard candy with a hammer to break it up before I would let them eat it. I won’t even eat a lifesaver. Sometimes I won’t eat anything when I am alone, because I am afraid of choking. I don’t want to die that way.

So anyway….there was a preview for a movie called “Buried”. Apparently someone is buried alive in a coffin, and he has a cell phone and from the looks of the preview he is on the phone from the coffin the whole time. There was a movie about 10 years ago in which someone was buried alive and someone else was looking for her/him (can’t remember) and I felt compelled to watch this movie, despite my phobia. It was awful. Now this is in my head. Luckily the movie we saw was so funny and distracting, but that damn preview.

I’m going to watch the rest of the Bourne Ultimatum and try to sleep.


Therapy Recap 7/27/10

Today I brought a printout of the conversation I had in my head last week to my t appointment. I gave J the background story – about my son, and his medical situation and the tests he needs and the blood test success story and the barium x-ray not so successful story. I told him about my son’s anxieties and phobias. Then he read the conversation with the voice in my head (VIMH).

While he was reading I was looking around. I noticed the Purell. When he was done I told him that he can use the Purell. Since I mentioned it three weeks ago he hasn’t used it when I come in. He said he can’t use it today and showed me two open blisters he had on his hands. He said he used it yesterday and Ouch! I said, but seriously, its fine that you use the Purell, I didn’t mean to make you stop using it. He said, it’s only been three weeks since you said anything, and I said, “And you haven’t used it in front of me since then.” He said he only uses it about twice a day, and wouldn’t you know since I am the first person he sees in the morning he has been doing paperwork and typing and feels his hands might be germy. I said, “So it has nothing to do with me, and the fact that I emanate germs and you have to disinfect when I walk in? Maybe you need a spray version of it so that you can get all the germs I give off.” He said, “Well, I do disinfect the couch before you come in.” And I said, “And after, too, I hope.”

Then we talked about the VIMH. He said it’s great that I wrote that all out, and that I gave this voice an entity. He said he knew about someone with an eating disorder, and she gave it a name. I said, “Ed?” He said, no that would be too obvious. “Nigel.” (??)

But giving the disorder a name had some purpose; I can’t remember what it is now. He said I should give the VIMH a name. I’ve been thinking about that, it would scare me to give it a name. It would have too much power if it had a name, wouldn’t it?

He said obviously no matter what I do, this voice will tell me it’s not enough. What if I see a turtle crossing the road and pick it up and put it in the grass and even give it a little bowl of water. The voice would say, what about all of the other turtles, why aren’t you taking care of them?

That reminded me of an article I read about a jellyfish. J and I had talked about jellyfish a few weeks ago. I asked if he heard about the big jellyfish in New Hampshire. He hadn’t. So I told him the story. A 40 pound jellyfish wandered in the water of New Hampshire, where this type of jellyfish doesn’t usually venture. It somehow died and broke apart, but the jellyfish tentacles can still sting even when they are not attached to the jellyfish body. That morning in New Hampshire 150 people got stung by the tentacles and five people had to go to the hospital.

So that was a little tangent.

Back to the VIMH. He talked about the validity of the real me vs the VIMH. He asked which one is more valid, and I said, “Logically, or which do I believe?” He thinks the real me is correct more often than the voice. We talked about times when the voice might be good, like if you have the impulse to do something bad or wrong and the voice tells you not to. But generally, the voice is incorrect, and operating out of lack of objective evidence.

He told me about the id, ego and super ego of Freud, and what each one does. He said my super ego is very harsh.

He asked what I ultimately decided – who is right, me or the voice? I said that I posted this on my blog and everyone says it is ok that I felt good about myself when I helped my son, and that I did help him. But I said that of course they all said that, they had to. They aren’t going to post mean things to me on my own blog. He went over the whole thing with me and told me that I did a good job and I should feel good about it. He asked if I think EMTs feel bad when they help people. It’s not like they sit around saying, “I hope we have a few good car accidents today.” I said, “Maybe they do. If they don’t have accidents they can lose their jobs.”

I told J that no matter what anyone said to me, I didn’t believe that I made things better for my son until I actually asked him and he said that the things I did were helpful.

I asked him how the voice got in my head, and he asked me how long it has been there. I have no idea. I asked what the voice gets out of saying mean things to me. I was thinking that it’s hard to be good all the time, there is so much pressure. But J was telling me about how it’s easy to get into a pattern of what you know, it is comfortable. Even if it is abusive. For example if a child is abused she may end up marrying someone abusive, because that is what she knows. I was confused about this part and what it had to do with the voice.

I asked him how to get the voice out of my head. I told him that I want to kill it. He asked what I meant by kill. Silence. I don’t think I answered.

He said rather than get rid of it, I need to make the “me” louder and the voice quieter. I asked how I do that. I’m drawing a blank here. I don’t know what happened. I don’t think I got an answer. I don’t think J knows the answer, and this happens week after week. He tells me I need to do something, but he doesn’t tell me how. I would like to make the VIMH quieter, but how?

He said it is like a bully, and it is very harsh and it has been making me feel bad about myself for a long time. And he told me how to stand up to a bully, but I can’t remember that now. He said I am smarter and stronger than the bully, and I said I don’t think I am, but he says I am.

He also asked me how my son was after the blood test and I told him how talkative he was, and how he is planning on taking some classes at the community college. This led to a whole discussion about how I am being supportive of him and making him feel good about himself, and how I can continue doing this. I told him that my husband made my son feel bad because he said to him, “Are you really going to go to classes? Are you really going to do your work?” And I thought it was a stupid thing to say, because my son finally got the motivation to think about school, it’s not like we are pushing him into it. And I think we need to be supportive and positive, and my husband was being very negative. J asked if I said anything to my husband about this, and I said no. He suggested talking to my husband and telling him we need to be united and present a supportive front. I told him it sounded very patronizing to me. I wouldn’t like it if he talked to me that way. I don’t plan to talk to my husband about this. Unfortunately my son now knows not to talk his father about his plans, because he’ll just be shot down. But the thought of talking to my husband as though he is a child isn’t appealing to me either.

So although we did a lot of talking today, I don’t feel that anything is resolved. This is continually happening. I know I need to change, and what needs to change, but I don’t know how to do it. And J doesn’t seem to be able to tell me how either. I’m starting to think “What’s the point?”


The House of Anxiety

Friday afternoon I got an IM from my son. He said, “I’m sorry i didn’t go, i built it up bigger in my head than it was and i was more scared than i was with the blood test, i don’t know why, but i was the one who convinced myself not to do it, not anyone else”

He deleted the facebook comment I made. He said his friend saw it and was angry and hurt about it. We talked about it, and decided that since he had copied and pasted me some things she said about his upcoming testing, that I had gotten it out of context and therefore it was a misunderstanding. I still think his friends weren’t particularly encouraging to him, but hey, they are teenagers and very young adults, all of whom are on the immature side. It’s a learning experience.

We talked about what he is going to say when he calls the doctor tomorrow. He’ll be talking to the doctor’s assistant, which is probably less threatening (the doctor is very very nice, but still…)

In the meantime, he is still having issues with nausea and vomiting. Not a pleasant way to live. I hope we can find a way out of this without too much anxiety. This house seems to be reverberating with anxiety.

Did I mention my husband’s anxiety? He throws up every morning when he is under stress. It’s more like really bad gagging, or dry heaves. This began when he started working for a law firm back in 1988. We didn’t know what was wrong with him and he had tons of tests (including the barium x-ray) and they couldn’t find anything wrong with him. We figure its anxiety. It comes and goes, usually lasts a couple of months at a time, and usually caused by stress at work, or money problems at home. It’s been really bad lately.


A Conversation With Myself

I saw someone write out a conversation with herself on her blog, but I can’t remember who’s blog it was. I am stealing the idea, if this came from you please let me know so I can credit you.

This was my conversation with my myself this week:

Me: I feel good that I was able help my son get through his blood test despite his fear.

Voice in my head (VIMH): Great, that’s what it takes for you to feel good about yourself, your son getting sick?

Me: Well, I don’t want him to be sick, but I thought I was helpful.

VIMH: You probably made it worse. You made such a big deal out of the whole thing, with the numbing cream, and the Xanax, and laying down…. He was probably freaking out because of you.

Me: Maybe….

VIMH: If K (my husband) had brought him it wouldn’t have been such a big deal and probably easier.

Me: But K didn’t know the right things to tell the doctor about the blood test, or to ask about the Xanax, or to order the lidocaine cream, or to call the lab to find out if it is ok to use it, or to ask the technician if A could lay down.

VIMH: Yeah, and those things probably embarrassed A so much.

Me: I was trying to be helpful.

VIMH: Why – so you could feel better about yourself, or so you could help your son?

Me: So I could help my son, but I did feel good about it.

VIMH: Even if you didn’t make it worse, it’s nothing to feel good about. It’s your job as a mother.

Me: I know, but some people don’t know how to do the job.

VIMH: And you think you do?

Me: I thought I know how to handle his anxiety. But maybe I did make it worse. Maybe K should have taken him.

VIMH: K never would have taken him and you know it. It’s not his job.

Me: Right, I’m in charge of that kind of stuff.

VIMH: So when it gets screwed up it’s all your fault. Like today when A wouldn’t go to the lab to have the x-ray.

Me: I know that I said the wrong thing when I told him that he should just try to drink the barium, and if he can’t do it we can leave.

VIMH: Exactly. That was totally the wrong thing to say, because it allowed him to think that this isn’t even important, that there is another test he can do. So why would he bother even doing this?

Me: Yes, I feel bad now. I feel bad for feeling good about myself when my son is sick, and maybe making his anxiety worse, and I feel bad for telling him to just try to drink the barium instead of insisting he do it.

VIMH: Good for you! You should feel bad about yourself. You suck at this.