Thank you.

It's comments like these that help me to realize that starting this blog and making it "public" (even though I write anonymously) was the right decision. I'm so touched by the outpouring of support and "Yeah, I get you, I feel the same way," comments.  It literally brings tears to my eyes.  It shows me that I'm not alone, there are others out there that get me, and that there are many, many avenues for growth in this journey. This one comment in response to this post really touched me deeply.  Thank you April.  I don't know you personally, but your words helped me more than you could know:

"I agree with Holly. But I also have a few points to mention.

First of all, the wounds you have received in the past have convinced you, beyond all reason, that you are somehow defective to the point that no one can love or accept the real you. The love shown to you by your husband and children flies in the face of this belief, so you push them away, hoping in time that they will reject you and prove your theory right. A part of you desperately wants to be right because it will justify you being a victim for as long as possible. As a victim, the responsibility for how you feel and act is put upon others and removes your obligation to undergo the painful process of change. (The rational part of you, however, wants to change and become healthy again.)

Secondly, by pushing away those who love you, you are perpetuating the same cycle of wounding that started with your parents. You desperately wanted to be loved and accepted by them, but your efforts to please them always fell short. Now your husband is in the same boat: no matter what he does to show that he loves you, it is never good enough to win your affections. This may be an unconscious effort to mold him into someone who can empathize with you. Or maybe it's just an outlet for the anger and pain you wish you could inflict upon your parents.

Thirdly, that overwhelming feeling of being unloved is not your gut or instinct: it's called fear. How do I know? Because you described it as being irrational. Fear is almost always irrational. I have fear, too. I fear nearly every day my husband goes to work that I'm going to receive a phone call saying he's been in a fatal accident. Sometimes I start to cry when I let this scenario play out in my head. I also fear that my son will stop breathing in his sleep. If he hasn't stirred by 8 a.m., I start to panic. Yet there is no reason for me to believe that either of these terrible things will happen. I manage these fears by looking at the facts: (1) my husband is smart enough to avoid accidents and minimize injury, and (2) my son is strong and healthy. Here is a fact for you to consider: out of 3.5 billion women, your husband chose you to share his life, share his name, share his bed, and bear his children. By marrying you, he made a public statement that he prefers you above all other women on this planet. That means you cannot be unlovable or unloved. You cannot be so damaged or defective as to be unacceptable. Something inside of you (a great many things, I'm sure) is good enough to satisfy another.

Forgive me if I have touched a nerve. I want more than anything to encourage you. The words you write on this blog convey an inner strength that many people do not possess. Self-help books are great, but sometimes the answers we seek lie within ourselves."

Unlovable

I know that my post yesterday was a bit... irrational.  But hey, I never claimed that I nor this journey would be. The rational side of my brain tells me that of course I'm loved.  The irrational side says it's all fake, that there's no way my husband loves me, how could he?  I'm unworthy of love. I mean, God, I don't like myself all that much.

Unfortunately, the irrational side usually wins out.  And as much as I know that it's ridiculous, I can't stop thinking this way.  I'm constantly terrified that my husband is just going to up and decide one day that he's had enough and I'm not worth it.  That he says he loves me, but he really doesn't.

And sessions like the one I had yesterday where we talk about my childhood kind of brings all of that scared-little-girl-me back up to the surface and I feel unbearably lonely and unloved to my very core. It drowns every other feeling out.

How can I stop thinking this way?  I've read so many self-help books, tried all the exercises in those books, but those dark thoughts keep taking over. And God, what does my husband have to do to prove to me he loves me? Doesn't he show me in so many ways all the time? What do I expect really? Especially when I want to push him away the minute he tries to have a heart to heart or show me any kind of affection. 

But see? See where this is leading? It's leading me to talk myself into the fact that I don't deserve him or his love. It's like a viscious cycle I have no control over.  And yeah, I know, that makes me sound like the victim.  I'm not sure how to fix that, either.

Times like these I just feel so lost.  And, like I've said in the past, I cannot imagine having to fight this battle day in and day out for the rest. of. my. life.  I just want someone or something to fix me, dammit.  Humans need a System Restore button.

Thoughtful Tuesday

My appointment was this morning.  I don't have a whole lot of time because I have to go pick the kids up but I felt like I really needed to at least stop at home and jot down some things I'm feeling after today's meeting:

Vulnerable
Raw
Sad
Hopeless
Unloved

We talked a lot about my family today.  It was hard. It's like, just when I think I'm starting to make progress, an old wound gets opened up and all of these feelings I thought I had supressed start coming out.  Describing my family dymanics when I was growing up brought all those old feelings to the surface: 

I want to know why they don't love me? Why was I never good enough?  I tried so hard to be perfect and was never quite good enough.  And now I'm realizing that all those years of losing myself, of trying so hard to please them, were just wasted.  They're never going to love me. How can anyone love me? It feels like everytime I do something that I finally think is good, that I've finally succeeded in pleasing someone, anyone, I always fall just a little short.  It's never quite good enough or they expect more. 

I don't have anymore to give. I don't want to give anymore.  I want someone to give to me.  I feel so alone sometimes.  I feel so tired of trying right now.  When is who I am going to be enough?

I'm never going to be enough.  That's how I'm feeling right now, at this very second.

To be...

My husband took the kids out this afternoon so I could get some stuff done around the house.  God bless him.  I've been cleaning up around the house and when I clean, I think.  So I keep thinking about what I want to become.  When I reach my destination, wherever and whenever that might be. There are certain things that I've been been personally working on, some things I think the antidepressants have been helping with, and some things I'm learning through therapy.  A few of things are self-evident in the spot I'm in right now - my husband took the kids, I asked him to take the kids and he did! I'm alone in the house and getting a lot done!  Shocker of all shocks! Not that he wouldn't if I asked him to, my problem is actually the asking.  That's one of my goals:

To speak up and ask for what I want, and not feel badly about it.

Another goal that I was able to accomplish for today anyway (and I'm not sure if it's the antidepressants doing it or just time, or what, but who cares, really, right?):

To feel motivated and keep up with my daily tasks and not put them off.

Another directly related to that:

To have energy throughout the day so that I can accomplish things and not feel the need to take a nap in the afternoon.

I'm not even feeling the least bit drowsy right now, and you have no idea how good that feels.

Here are a couple more goals that I'm working towards, that I haven't quite gotten yet:

To be articulate, friendly, interactive, a good listener, without sacrificing who I am.

To be honest all the time and not feel bad when someone doesn't want the truth. To stop lying, and realize that the people are not going to stop loving me if I'm honest.

To stand up for myself, my values, my beliefs, my opinions and my tastes, and realize that people will like me for who I am.

To be the kind of person that my kids will look up to and try to emulate.

To avoid anything petty, mean, callous, negative and/or passive agressive.  And to learn how to deal with those things when I can't avoid them.

To be responsible, including improving my memory and getting tasks done without procrastination.

To improve my relationship with my husband, which includes being honest with him, expressing my needs, and re-learning what it means to be intimate.  To learn how to love myself so that I can better love him.

Apathetic, Bitter, Wary and Angry

Sorry I didn't write my usual "Thoughtful Thursday" yesterday.  I did have therapy, a little later in the day than usual, and then I had to immediately go pick up the kids at the babysitters and head to a playdate. So I didn't have my usual 30 minutes or so to come home and process the appointment and jot down my feelings.

But the big thing that happened yesterday was that my sister actually came over.  The one who has over two months of sobriety from pain killers under her belt.  She was here until around 11:00 to have a "heart to heart" with my husband and I and explain why there's been radio silence on her end for the past three months.

There were plenty of tears, yes, from all three of us as we talked about the hurt that was caused that fateful February morning when we kicked her out of our house.  She talked about her recovery, the program she was in and how she had no idea that my parents were trying to fight her battle for her and putting unrealistic pressure on my husband and I, and all the hurt caused by that over the past few months.  She talked about going back to school in the fall.  She talked about how supportive my parents have been.

But as I tossed and turned all night last night, I realized that I'm not as "okay" as I thought I was - as I told my sister I was - last night as she was leaving.  I find myself thinking that this miraculous recovery came way too easy.  I find myself doubting her, not trusting her.  I want to believe her words so badly and I'm mad that I'm doubting myself and her, for that matter.

She says that she wants our old relationship back and that she knows that she has no right to expect that we'll ever believe what she says or trust her again.  And I find myself fluctuating between not caring if we ever get that back, wanting desperately to believe that this is it, that her addiction is finally over, and being mad as all hell.

I was feeling especially bitter when she was talking about how great my parents have been.  I have to say, as petty and selfish as it may seem, I'm jealous and I'm hurt and I'm bitter. I mean, of course they're going to be supportive of her in her recovery... I wouldn't expect anything different out of a parents' love for their child. But that little voice in the back of my head, that voice I can't stand, yet can't make it stop, says, "Why are they there for her but not me? What about me? I'm holding on by the skin of my teeth here, and they could care less unless I fit into that mold that they formed for me so long ago. She doesn't have to be perfect, but I do?"

Did I secretly, subconsciously wish that my sister's recovery would have been a nightmare? Did I want my parents to kick her out and be as conditional in their love as they've been with me? Am I really out for revenge? 

God, I just don't know... I wish I could say I had purely altruistic wishes for my family and that I could rise above it all.  But I'm fighting this battle in my head and it just won't stop.  I'm just annoyed at myself right now.

Let the games begin!

God give me strength. The kids have been constantly asking about their grandparents, so today I'm going to take them over there for a little while.  I haven't exactly been "on speaking terms" with either of my parents for quite some time now. It's complicated.

Knowing them, they'll either a) pretend that nothing happened, but there will be tension in the air you could cut with a knife, or b) play the woe-is-me game and lament about how it's been so long since they've seen the kids and they missed them so much - even though I could count on one hand the number of times they've made the effort to see them, unless I bring them to them - so essentially throwing the guilt trips around like crazy, c) silent treatment and dirty looks or d) a combination of all of the above. 

I can guarantee you that unless I confront them, they definitely will not bring anything up to me.  They'll just play the same games they always play. Now, these sorts of scenarios used to drive me nuts.  I mean, for God's sake, when I was 16 they once gave me the silent treatment for a solid three months (I'm not exaggerating), and I was living at home! Before, I would try to play their games, by sucking up, by apologizing or just pretending that everything was fine and dandy.  Then I'd silently fume at my inability to change or control anything.  It would set me back for days.

This time, I'm hoping that by writing all the possible scenarios down in my head and being conscious of them - being a conscientious observer as an outsider instead of a participant - that I'll see the games for what they are and not play into them.  I'm simply going to go over there for an hour or two, let them "visit" with the kids, and then make up an excuse to leave. If they try to throw guilt trips on me, I'm going to (force myself to) say, "That's not why I came here. I came here because the kids really wanted to see you," and walk away. 

Ahh... I'm not looking forward to this. At all. But like my therapist said last Thursday, how will I know how much growth I've made unless I test the waters?  And by the way, do you think it's any coincidence that I decided to go over there on a Wednesday, and my normal therapy appointments are on Thursdays?

Always thinking. Which is probably part of my problem.

A Journey, Not a Destination

I just finished a very powerful book (for me):  Brilliant Madness: Living with Manic Depressive Illness.  It's co-written by Patty Duke and Gloria Hochman (a medical reporter), and what makes it different from your normal Hollywood Star tell-all, is that it alternates between chapters written by Patty (Anna), telling her story of her struggle with Manic Depression in the first person, and chapters written by Gloria, which goes into the more clinical side of the illness, from diagnosis, to new treatments, to studies about the prevalance of the disease.  In other words, it satisfies both my thirst for first hand accounts of people suffering from mental illness, and my thirst for knowledge about the inner workings of the psyche.

It took me a lot longer to finish this one than a usual book takes me (about three weeks).  It was a hard read for me because I think I discovered something in reading it.  I'm pretty sure my mother has undiagnosed Manic Depressive Illness. I never even saw it before reading this.  But the pieces of the puzzle of my unstable upbringing are starting to come together.  I always suspected that this is what my sister is suffering from, leading to the self-medication with illegal drugs, but until I read this book, I never even imagined that my mom could be suffering from it as well.  So I would read something that would really hit home and have to put the book down for a bit to process what I read.

I won't go into broad detail about how I came to the conclusion that my mother is Manic Depressive, but suffice it to say that I did address all the similarities with my therapist and she said that it sounds as if it's a good possibility, given my description of my upbringing.  She said that it not only makes a lot of sense in regards to my need to be a "perfect daughter" (when you're a child, you think that the world revolves around you, so in my head, if I could be perfect, my mother wouldn't go into one of her moods), but that it's also a wonder that I made it out as healthy as I am (every time she refers to me as "healthy" I want to laugh, but anyway).  It also explains a lot of my family dynamics, and my search for "love" where I could get it (from my abuser), given that I had a severly mentally ill mother and an emotionally distant father.

I know that it probably does me no good to dwell on the past, that I should be looking towards the future at the person I want to become, and that's the other part of Patty's story that really hit home to me.  She said that on her road to recovery, she hit a point where she had to decide who she wanted to become, and work towards that goal.  I never really thought of my journey in that regard.  Here I've been, trying to find myself deep within, when maybe that person doesn't even exist yet.  Maybe I have to create that person, based on who I'd like to be. 

The trick is going to be setting realistic goals for myself, and being patient.  I had a set back this weekend (obviously), filled with a lot of self-loathing, and kicking myself for a lack of progress.  I have to remind myself that this is a life-long journey and that I may never arrive at a "destination."  I have to accept my limitations and find a way to work with them, instead of beating myself up at every turn.  I have to train myself to look towards the future instead of dwelling on what I had (or lacked) in the past. And I have to try like hell not to make the same mistakes with my own children and relationships. 

Not good enough

This has been a life-long problem for me: it seems like no matter what I do, how hard I try, or work, I always fall just a little bit short. Short of my own expectations, short of others' expectations of me, short of the expectations of society.  I'm always in "fourth place."  Good - but not good enough. 

I know this is probaby self-sabotage, in a way.  I do give up too easily and I am a procrastinator of the worst kind.  But no matter what I do, the house is never clean enough for my own liking.  I always forget to pay that one bill.  I always spend a little too much on grocery shopping.  My meals are always a little too simple and I don't like to cook.  I'm never completely caught up on the laundry, the vacuuming, the bathrooms, the dusting.

I don't spend enough time reading with my kids, or worry that I don't love them enough and am going to screw them up beyond repair. I worry that they're in too many activities, or not enough.  That they don't play outside enough or that they don't have enough down time.  That I'm too lenient on them or too hard on them.

I beat myself up because I read too much, am on the computer too much, sleep too much, spend too much, don't eat enough, eat too much, don't exercise enough.  I beat myself up because I don't show my husband enough love, talk to him enough, do enough around the house, don't have a job.

I feel like I'm not a good enough friend: that I never say the right thing, that I never remember the important dates, that I'm not a good enough listener, that I talk too much or not enough.  That I hate talking on the phone and that I suck at making plans.

I hate myself because I feel like my hair is too thick, my nose too big, my eyes too small, my butt too big, my breasts too small, my thighs too big.  I hate my sense of style: I'm too plain and I dress too frumpy and I always feel like I'm just behind in fashion.  I'm too lazy, not motivated enough, not ambitious enough.

And I hate myself because even though I'm trying so hard to become someone different, someone healthy and someone authentic and whole, I seem to be even falling short at that. 

I hate myself because I hate myself.

Ugly

I'll never see what you see
it's not me
so beautiful and free
I'll never be what you need
can't help it at all.
I was born so beautiful, but now I'm ugly
~Smashing Pumpkins

Having a bad day.

Thoughtful Thursday

Wow. Great session today. My head is spinning. And I'm smiling, to boot.

I got some great news (or what I think is great news, anyway!). My insurance only initially approves 12 counseling sessions, then they'll approve two more 8 sessions, when the therapist submits it. So I had already gone through my 12 sessions this year, and my therapist submitted for eight more. For whatever reason, the insurance ignored the claim, and when my therapist called back to question it, they realized their mistake and fixed the problem. But it gets better - my therapist then inquired about unlimited sessions with a PTSD diagnosis (which is what she gave me). They came back on the phone and said that they approved it!

This makes me so happy because I was thinking that I'd have to go every other week from now on instead of every week and the thought of that was making me really anxious. So now I can go every week! YAY!

Anyway, we started the session with that great news, and then started talking about my current relationship (or lack thereof) with my parents. I told her how I didn't know where to go from here with the whole situation (written about in this post). I told her that I just want to do the "right thing." She questioned that and asked, "the right thing for who? You? Your husband? Your kids?" I thought about it and answered, for myself and for my kids, because the kids have been asking for their grandparents.

She helped me to realize (or at least reinforced the idea) that I can't expect an apology from them, or I'd be holding out for a very long time. Their limited view of the world and how relationships work will see to that. She suggested that I take "a field trip" over to their house with the kids next week and see how that goes. Kind of like testing the waters. She explained that I'll never know how much growth I've made until I'm faced with a situation from the past. She guaranteed that I'd go over there with wide open eyes and be able to view every situation in a new light. And she cautioned me to set very careful boundaries around the visit - both in terms of how long I'll stay, and what we can talk about.

I like that idea because it puts the ball in my court and I can be in control of the situation.

Oh, and before I forget, we talked a little bit about our group meeting last week. She said she was actually really impressed with my ability to be clear and direct with my husband and she thought that it was great to see us in action. She thinks that my husband is a wonderful man and feels that we have a very strong marriage. I was so pleased to hear that. I mean, I know I have a good guy, but to hear it from a personal and family counselor is another thing altogether. :)

We also explored the idea that I think my mother has undiagnosed Bipolar Disorder. My therapist had given me a book to read about two weeks ago, that I'm still working through: Brilliant Madness: Living with Manic Depressive Illness, and a lot of what Patty Duke describes really hit home to me. It's like the smoke cleared from my memories of my mom and it is glaringly obvious to me now. I realize that I'm not a professional, but thinking of my mom in terms of having an undiagnosed personality disorder really puts things in perspective for me.

I'll blog more about this another time when I have more time. But I just wanted to jot this stuff down while it was still fresh in my head and note that I felt this was a really good session and for several reasons, it brought a great amount of relief to me.

Energy (or lack thereof)

Does anyone want to tell me how I can go about getting more energy? It's midmorning here, I had a decent night's sleep, ate breakfast, I'm on my second cup of coffee, but I feel so drowsy that if I put my head down right now, I'd fall fast asleep. The way I feel right now, it's like I haven't slept in days. This is what I battle with almost every day. I thought that that would go away once the insomnia was fixed and I'm on a fairly high dose of Prozac, I'm even feeling "happier" than I've been in a long time. So why the heck am I so tired? I drink so much caffeine in a given day that I'm suprised I'm not bouncing off the walls, but as far as I can tell, it makes no difference whatsoever.

Can you believe what I'd be capable of if I had a "normal" amount of energy? I can't imagine everyone feels this way. Sometimes I wonder if there's something wrong with me other than the depression that's causing me to feel this way. I've had my thyroid tested at least a dozen times and it always comes back "within range." What else could it be?

Does anyone have any suggestions or tips for me? I'm really tired (get it? durr!) of feeling this way.

Chess

I'm really sick of not knowing what is the "right thing" to do in my family situation. My family is notorious for it's mind games. Right now I feel like I'm playing a game of chess with my parents and it's my move. I've been going back and forth on my "strategy" because on one hand, frankly, I'm sick to death of these games. I wish for once we could just all say what we feel, face to face (even though just the thought of that gives me agida), and not have to do this back and forth via email, facebook and phone messages. On the other hand, though, I don't want them to "win" or even think that they won. So if I show up at the house and confront them, they'll perceive that as me crawling back.

Do I ignore the chess game then? If I ignore it, is it really because I'm sick of the game and don't want to feed into it? Or is it because I'm using my old habits of avoiding the problem by ignoring it? Or am I reading into the whole thing way too much? My therapist explained that my family has a very limited view on the world, so do they even realize what they're doing? And if that's the case, how can I possibly be mad at them for something they don't even know they did? Should I kind of feel sorry for them because they just don't "get it?" Because if they don't get it, they're probably sitting over there completely baffled by my complete 180 in terms of my normal behavior.

And, to exacerbate things even further, I now know that I can't change them, and I've stopped trying. They are who they are, and the only person I can change is myself. I get that, I really do. So why am I even fighting this battle to get them to realize how much they've hurt me? Isn't it pointless when I think of it like that?

I wish I could just fast-forward to a year from now and have this all over and done with. But I can't. So I guess I'm just going to have to figure out what the hell I'm going to do with my "turn."

Self-fullness (or Vocabulary Lesson 2)

I am unselfish to a fault. I used to think this was one of my best traits. I gave gave gave and never wanted anything in return. Well, that's not true, exactly. I gave, but I wanted love and respect in return. Instead, I turned into the invisible child, the one that no one has to worry about and that everyone counts on when times are bad, but want nothing to do with when times are good. I was the one that plastered the smile on my face while people walked all over it.

Anything that put my needs first I considered "Selfish."

Selfish: 1 : concerned excessively or exclusively with oneself : seeking or concentrating on one's own advantage, pleasure, or well-being without regard for others. 2 : arising from concern with one's own welfare or advantage in disregard of others.

My therapist has been trying to convince me for months now that the word "selfish" isn't always a bad thing. Everybody needs a little selfishness in them, otherwise there'd be no "self." Which is precisely my problem, dear Watson. Still, the word leaves a bad taste in my mouth. Selfishness was just not allowed in my household. It falls in the same category as four of the Seven Deadly Sins: Lust, Greed, Gluttony, and Pride. Being self-less is akin to giving someone the shirt off your back, or turning the other cheek.

So all these years I gave gave gave, poured out my soul to whoever asked for it, and never got anything in return. I was an empty cup for a very long time.

Getting to the point, though, my therapist suggested that everytime I think the word "Selfish," I can try to replace it with the word "Self-full." I like this word because, to me, I visualize a full cup, brimming over, ready to share my gifts with others in a safe and healthy way, with healthy boundaries in place. This was the best definition of "Self-full" I could find on the web:

SELF-FULLNESS: the art of taking care of one’s needs, desires, and dreams in a healthy, productive and constructive way without guilt and without infringing upon the rights of others; to know one’s own person, preferences, and boundaries.

And, in a way, part of the reason for this blog - for this whole journey, really - is to become self-full. If I know who I am, who I really am, not just on the surface, or who other's want me to be; if I can figure out my own convictions, beliefs, faults, gifts, and all - what makes me me, then and only then will I be able to give to my loved ones from a full cup. A cup that will never empty again, because I will take care of myself from now on, first and foremost.

Life worth living for

These are the things that I need to remember make life worth living (in no particular order):

Friends - that will drag you out dancing because they know you'll have a
good time once you get there.
Dancing
Music
Sunshine on my face
Summertime
The beach
Funny jokes: What do you call a parrot wearing a raincoat? Poly-unsaturated!
My children's giggles
Cute baby fuzzy things
A good cup of coffee
Books
The smell of fresh-cut grass
The feeling of sand between my toes
Movie theater popcorn
Cool, crisp, clean sheets
All things chocolate
Snuggles
Disney World
Peach tea
Watching my kids grow kind, confident and positive
Seeing my in husband's eyes the things I don't see in myself

Status Check

Warning: this post is going to be very Charlie-Brownish, a.k.a. "wishy-washy."

I'm doing okay, I guess. My psychiatrist upped my Prozac to 60 mg. I'm pretty sure that's giving me more energy. It's hard to tell though. There are still days where I feel like I need a nap half-way through the day. But at least the insominia at night seems to have gotten better. And I feel like I'm better able to force myself off the couch and into action.

I still have very little concentration and am constantly forgetting things - like I locked my keys inside a building earlier this week and had to spend all afternoon figuring out how to get back and forth with my spare set so I could retrieve my car... and that's just one example.

I still have my moments of self-doubt. I haven't spoken to my parents or any of my family in weeks. I didn't show up at their house on Easter (but, then again, they didn't exactly invite me over, either, so I'm not taking all the blame there). My reasoning behind staying away was that I won't pretend anymore, even for the sake of the kids. Or at least I don't have it in me to pretend right now. Maybe I'll be better able to deal with it in the future, but right now I'm way too vulnerable and wide open to put on that act, if you know what I mean.

So I have been feeling a fair amount of guilt about "keeping the kids away from their grandparents." It's not like me to hold grudges or act "selfishly." So this whole scenario is very foreign and uncomfortable for me. But then again, I almost wonder sometimes if staying away is my old habit of avoiding the problem, and I'm justifying it in my own mind by saying that they deserve it. And the longer I stay away, the harder it's going to be to make that first step. God knows that they won't make the first step. They'll just wait and wait for me to come crawling back. And when I think of it in those terms, I get angry because I feel like it's the same old-same old games that my family just loves to play, and I wonder if I'm playing right into them.

In other words, yeah, the confusion and self-doubt are still there. I wish I had a crystal ball sometimes, or even a Magic 8 Ball, that'd tell me the right thing to do. My therapist will just tell me to do "what makes me feel comfortable." But how do you know what that is when you are just beginning to figure out who you are in the first place? That figuring out who takes up all the space in my brain and leaves no room for good decision making, in my opinion. When you've spent your entire life making decisions based on what you thinks someone else wants/thinks you should, then all of a sudden you're asked, "Hey, what do you think?" Well, just picture a deer in the headlights and that's basically my expression. I draw a huge blank.

So although I may be feeling physically better in a lot of ways and emotionally better as well, I still have a lot of mental things to sort through that is taking up a lot of my time and energy.

Can someone please tell me what to think? Please? No? Dammit. Back to the drawing board.

Dreams

The last few nights I've had some crazy dreams. Now, I was a psychology major in college (I bet you can guess why!), but I don't usually buy into the whole dream analysis thing. But there's no escaping these dreams I've had - how vivid they are and downright weird.

The night before last, the most vivid dream was that my mother came and kidnapped me and was basically holding me hostage. She was extremely mad at me and thought that I was possessed or something. She also thought my husband was brain-washing me. So she was dragging me away, kicking and screaming and locked me into this dark, bare-wood, shack of a room. I kept trying to escape or call for help and was running into dead ends at every turn. When I finally managed to get out of the room, it was dark out and I was running down unfamiliar, dark and creepy streets. I had no idea where I was, all I knew was that I was being chased and I had to get away.

The dream I had last night was kind of sexual in nature, so I won't go into it here, but suffice it to say, I was in college, I was with my boyfriend-now-husband, and it involved some of my worst fears around being intimate - being walked in on, being judged, being ridiculed, being disgusted, you name it. My husband was nothing but supportive and helpful, the ridicule was coming from other people.

So there they are. Again, I'm not really one to be analysing dreams, but those two especially were doozies. And if anyone has some insight into the meaning behind the dreams, I'd love to hear them.

Thoughtful... Wednesday?

This week we changed things up a bit... my therapist and I had been tossing around the idea of setting up a joint counseling session with my husband and his therapist (he's been seeing one to help him cope with the stress around my depression and the fact that he has had to pick up my slack because of it). So the four of us decided that in lieu of my regular session on Thursday, that we'd all meet today instead (this also has to do with the fact that my frigging insurance will only pay for up to 24 sessions - I think it is - per year so I have to start spacing my one-on-one sessions out, which is causing it's own anxiety, but anyway...)

We met today at 12:00. I was extremely nervous and apprehensive about this session for some reason. I don't know why. I also don't know why I left the session feeling really low and on the verge of tears. It's not like the session went bad or anything... It was just... weird. The whole dynamic that I've become comfortable with had changed. I felt like I was "the crazy one" in the room, which, yeah, I know, is ridiculous, but I just couldn't shake the feeling.

The discussion initially revolved around my parents and my husband's anger towards them. We talked about this past weekend, with how things went down on Easter, how my family will never change and how fed up I am with all of that. Then we sort of drifted into the subject of my "inappropriate relationship" with my family member, and how neither my husband nor I are really mad at him, but how it's going to be weird and awkward the first time we have to see this person, and our feelings around that.

Then we talked about my depression. Somehow, and I don't know if this is way off base here, it probably is, I'm probably not giving him enough credit, but somehow I feel like my husband thinks my depression is just situational, and given enough time I'll "get over it." Maybe that's my own secret wish that I'm just projecting on him, I don't know, but that's what I feel. So my therapist explained that because of my family history with mental illness, and due to the fact that I've literally been depressed for as long as I can remember - going back as young as four or five years old - that it's likely something chronic that I'll be dealing with my whole life.

Now, some people feel relief when they get a diagnosis like this because it means that they're not weak, or crazy, or lazy, or whatever, but for me, it makes me sad. Sad and kind of hopeless that every single day for the rest of my life is going to be a struggle. That I'm most likely going to have to rely on drugs to stabilize my mood for the rest. of. my. life. It just seems so bleak to me. Maybe that's why I left there feeling so depressed. I don't know.

The other thing that could have done it was that in talking about our marital "issues," I felt like - and again, this could just be me projecting, but hear me out - all of the stuff that's wrong with our marriage and our life can be directly blamed on me and my screwed up past. And that it's going to be mostly on me to change.

And I do not like change. Well, let me rephrase: I like change, on my own terms and at my own pace. Try to force me into something and I get very anxious. So when the therapists made suggestions like turning off the TV or the computer or putting down the book and having a talk with my husband (oh! the very idea!), well, it scares me half to death. I like my little comfort zone. I like hiding behind my computer screen or my book at night. I don't like to talk. And not just to my husband - to anyone, really. I really value my quiet and my alone time.

I'm afraid that's going to go away, and it's like Linus losing his security blanket. It frankly scares the shit out of me.

In summary, the only word I can really use to describe today's joint counseling session is: unsettling. It was a very unsettling experience, for reasons I haven't quite grasped yet. If I figure it out, I'll let you know.

Vocabulary

There are certain words I use (and am working hard to break the bad habit of using them) that convey that I'm a "victim" instead of being ruler of my own destiny, or that I don't really mean what I say. I never even realized that I used them as much as I did until my therapist pointed it out.

Here are a couple of the words that I'm learning have a lot of symbolism behind them:

"I Can't". When you say that you can't do something, you're making yourself out to be a victim. If you want to convey that you are in control, a better way to word it would be to use "I will not." As an example listen to the way these two sentences sound when you read them aloud:

"I can't pretend anymore." compared to: "I will not pretend anymore." Hear the difference?

Another word I'm learning to substitute to convey that I mean what I say and I say what I mean:
"But." The word "but" can be very passive aggressive and can convey that you're sugar-coating an insult or criticism, or that what you're saying is conditional.

Example: "I love you, but I'm feeling frustrated with your behavior." compared to: "I love you and I'm feeling frustrated with your behavior."

One connotes that love is conditional on how the other person is behaving. The other is saying that love is unconditional, even when the person speaking is feeling frustrated.

It may not seem like these small word changes can make a big difference in how I communicate, but (and!) I've been really making a conscious effort to change my way of speaking about how I feel. I've noticed a difference in myself and how empowered I feel, and I feel like when I practice these techniques, people seem to take me seriously.

Thoughtful Thursday

Our session was a little of this and a little of that today. We talked about viewing treating depression as treating an illness, and the strong possibility that I could suffer from depression on and off for the rest of my life. And that I don't think I want to ever come off the medication.

That discussion led to me describing a bit more of my childhood. I told her about how I was depressed as a child, was very shy, didn't stand up for myself and was therefore a perfect target for bullying. I told her that I can't really remember a time when I didn't suffer from depression, from worry, from guilt and from loneliness. The fact that I had an emotionally distant and limited set of parents made it very easy for me to fall into the abuse, because I craved love and got it where I could. I still struggle with the idea that I got something out of that relationship, however perverse it was.

We talked about how I don't feel anger towards "HIM" (I think it'd be easier for us all if I just called him that from now on). How I almost feel compassion, in a way, because he's another person who was probably very lonely and confused. And how all the signs (and there are some really significant warning bells when I think back on it) point to the fact that he was abused (whether by another family member, or priest, or what, it doesn't really matter), and was most likely just really confused and acting out towards me because of it. I never mentioned this before, but "HE" is actually not much older than me. Maybe that's why I have such a hard time calling it abuse... I don't know.

We talked about whether or not I could ever talk to HIM about what happened between us. She said that if I could ever get to the point where I'm not expecting any outcome out of it, and can address the situation just to clear the air, not expect some grand apology or even for him to admit it, then would be the time. And that time may never come.

This is a very personal process and I have to do things when they feel right, not according to some timetable specified by anyone.