I'm sorry for being such an ass about posting. I just feel like there's so fucking much going on in my life right now that it's impossible to keep up. I went to the hospital. Did a bunch of art. Did a lot of trauma work with my therapist. And now there's a guy in my life that I'm pretty interested in. And that's weird for me. Usually I try to press the eject button as quickly as possible. But with this one... I really like him and he's so nice and I think he's a really good guy for me. In a drunken confession, I already told him that I have PTSD and it's because I was sexually abused, and somehow he was so nice about it. I'm just so shocked about how nice he is. But my brain is in overload. I'm dealing with all of this stupid trauma shit and then dealing with my present life with this guy that I really like and dealing with staying safe all at the same time and I don't know what to do. I just feel like there's so MUCH going on. I have my new job coming up, this new "relationship" (whatever it is) coming up and I'm feeling so dissociative. I just feel like my life isn't real. It's so hard. I don't know what I'm doing and I can't think straight. Uggghhhhhh. I'm excited, nervous, happy, scared, everything, all at the same time.
July 13, 2013
June 11, 2013
An Unintentional Rant
I've been avoiding writing a post mostly because I was feeling disappointed in myself, but I think I've gotten over some of that now. I ended up having to go to the hospital for a week because I didn't trust myself to stay safe anymore. I felt really overwhelmed, started getting a little bit self-destructive, and I felt like I was escalating out of control. So after a long conversation with my psychiatrist I agreed to go the ER for a psych evaluation. It was a horribly scary decision. She told me that she felt that I should go to the hospital but she left the decision up to me. I knew that it would be a much better and safer decision for me to go but it was still terrifying to make that call. I was scared to go home and be left to my own devices but I was also scared to go to the hospital because I felt like I was letting everyone down. I sat fighting with myself, trying to get myself to say "yes, I'll go", but all I could keep saying was "I don't know". I think it took me about an hour to finally break down my own wall and agree to go.
I spent a whole day and night regretting my decision because of the horribly tedious and humiliating process of getting admitted to a mental hospital. The policy at my clinic SUCKS. I understand it. But it sucks. I had to take a two minute ambulance ride from the clinic to the ER that was literally ACROSS THE STREET. I had to give up all of my possessions and wear a beautiful hospital gown. Then it got really fun... I got to be on constant suicide watch... despite being there willingly. It's fun having a person sitting at the window, staring at you while you do absolutely nothing because there's nothing to do in the ER when all of your possessions have been taken away. It's just like the zoo!... but you get to be the zebra instead of the human. I received a lovely evil eye from the psychiatrist when I told her that I would rather go to a different hospital if I was being admitted as inpatient and was then treated like I was being a diva for even asking. I then got to stay there overnight and I even got to sleep for a couple hours before I was strapped into a fucking gurney, still in my hospital gown, to be transported to the hospital I requested in another fun ambulance trip. It all made me feel so good about my decision to go into the hospital.... They seriously need to do something about that whole pile-of-shit process. It reeeaaalllly didn't help my state of mind to feel that humiliated and exhausted. Most of the people that interacted with me during the process tried to be nice about it, but it was still a very dehumanizing process. Luckily the place that I requested to go to (and had a bed for me despite the whole, "They probably wont have a bed, but I guess I can try if you really want me to...") is very good about giving you as much control as possible in how you are treated while you are there.
I guess this turned into an unintentional rant. What I meant to say was that I actually ended up being very glad that I made the decision to go into the hospital for a little while. It helped me feel a little bit calmer and it renewed my motivation to use positive coping skills when I'm feeling hopeless and self-destructive. And I now have a lot of art to share because of it!
"I HATE LIFE"
I spent a whole day and night regretting my decision because of the horribly tedious and humiliating process of getting admitted to a mental hospital. The policy at my clinic SUCKS. I understand it. But it sucks. I had to take a two minute ambulance ride from the clinic to the ER that was literally ACROSS THE STREET. I had to give up all of my possessions and wear a beautiful hospital gown. Then it got really fun... I got to be on constant suicide watch... despite being there willingly. It's fun having a person sitting at the window, staring at you while you do absolutely nothing because there's nothing to do in the ER when all of your possessions have been taken away. It's just like the zoo!... but you get to be the zebra instead of the human. I received a lovely evil eye from the psychiatrist when I told her that I would rather go to a different hospital if I was being admitted as inpatient and was then treated like I was being a diva for even asking. I then got to stay there overnight and I even got to sleep for a couple hours before I was strapped into a fucking gurney, still in my hospital gown, to be transported to the hospital I requested in another fun ambulance trip. It all made me feel so good about my decision to go into the hospital.... They seriously need to do something about that whole pile-of-shit process. It reeeaaalllly didn't help my state of mind to feel that humiliated and exhausted. Most of the people that interacted with me during the process tried to be nice about it, but it was still a very dehumanizing process. Luckily the place that I requested to go to (and had a bed for me despite the whole, "They probably wont have a bed, but I guess I can try if you really want me to...") is very good about giving you as much control as possible in how you are treated while you are there.
I guess this turned into an unintentional rant. What I meant to say was that I actually ended up being very glad that I made the decision to go into the hospital for a little while. It helped me feel a little bit calmer and it renewed my motivation to use positive coping skills when I'm feeling hopeless and self-destructive. And I now have a lot of art to share because of it!
"I HATE LIFE"
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| May 2013 |
This is something that I drew a couple weeks before going into the hospital. I just wrote "I HATE LIFE" on the paper and then made it into a design. I made the 'I' black, the word 'hate' red and the word 'life' green. I kind of see it all as roots and the 'hate' is growing out of the 'life'. There's so much interconnection going on but it also looks isolated at the same time. For example, the 'I' looks very lonely to me. I guess it reflects how I've been feeling alone and disconnected from my life. It kind of looks like it's off to the side, watching everything, but it only has one line to connect it to everything. And then the whole thing is surrounded by a grey fog that makes it feel even more lonely.
May 14, 2013
Brain Meltdown
I relearned some important childhood lessons this weekend. "Don't take candy from strangers" and "Drugs do crazy shit to your mind". Short version of the story: Went to a friend's party. Left with some people that I had just met (dumb). Ate a pot brownie that I was assured was not strong (really dumb). Realized that I was too high. Made a quick exit and got home (smart). Started really flipping out: had waves of intense panic; thought I was dying; thought that I was having seizures; started having crazy paranoia about everything; wasn't sure what was real; felt like I might lose my mind. Finally figured out how to use my phone to call my parents to come get me. Managed to calm down a little knowing that they wouldn't let me die.
I have gotten very high and very paranoid from pot before but nothing even close to what happened this weekend. This was just a complete sensory overload - every sound, light or movement felt too overwhelming. I felt like everything was happening for the second time but then I wasn't sure if it had ever happened at all. I wavered between complete panic and complete detachment. I was seeing things in my heartbeat and I could look into the center of my mind and see a rotating patterned column. And every time I surfaced into a second of relative lucidity all I could think was, "Something is wrong. Something is wrong. Something is wrong."
So either I had a horrible reaction because the brownies were way stronger than they told me and, because I've been stressed recently, panic just completely took over, or they could have been laced with something else. No idea which. Either way I feel like a total idiot for going to a complete stranger's apartment and eating their drugged brownies.
Here was my rationale for being an idiot... these people seemed "safe" because they were in my friend's apartment when I met them and they knew someone who knew my friend. I ignored my anxiety about leaving the party with them because I just assumed that I was having a PTSD overreaction to meeting new people. Apparently I didn't have the sense to also think about the fact that it's normal to feel anxious about going to a stranger's apartment with a bunch of people I don't really know. But I convinced myself that it would be fine because making new friends is a good thing and I need to stop being afraid of flirting with guys. I only realized how stupid I was being once I told one of them I was leaving because I felt too high and he told me that I would be fine, that I should stay, and that I should just trust him. It's pretty creepy when someone tells you to trust them when you don't even know them and they just encouraged you to take drugs.
I think that this might be life's way of telling me to stop fucking around with mind-altering substances. I had a few drinks before I decided to go off with a bunch of strangers, which definitely relaxed me enough to ignore my anxieties about it and probably altered my decision making skills. So I'm going to stop drinking, at least while my life feels this overwhelming, and I don't think I'll be able to touch pot for a long time after this experience.
I have gotten very high and very paranoid from pot before but nothing even close to what happened this weekend. This was just a complete sensory overload - every sound, light or movement felt too overwhelming. I felt like everything was happening for the second time but then I wasn't sure if it had ever happened at all. I wavered between complete panic and complete detachment. I was seeing things in my heartbeat and I could look into the center of my mind and see a rotating patterned column. And every time I surfaced into a second of relative lucidity all I could think was, "Something is wrong. Something is wrong. Something is wrong."
So either I had a horrible reaction because the brownies were way stronger than they told me and, because I've been stressed recently, panic just completely took over, or they could have been laced with something else. No idea which. Either way I feel like a total idiot for going to a complete stranger's apartment and eating their drugged brownies.
Here was my rationale for being an idiot... these people seemed "safe" because they were in my friend's apartment when I met them and they knew someone who knew my friend. I ignored my anxiety about leaving the party with them because I just assumed that I was having a PTSD overreaction to meeting new people. Apparently I didn't have the sense to also think about the fact that it's normal to feel anxious about going to a stranger's apartment with a bunch of people I don't really know. But I convinced myself that it would be fine because making new friends is a good thing and I need to stop being afraid of flirting with guys. I only realized how stupid I was being once I told one of them I was leaving because I felt too high and he told me that I would be fine, that I should stay, and that I should just trust him. It's pretty creepy when someone tells you to trust them when you don't even know them and they just encouraged you to take drugs.
I think that this might be life's way of telling me to stop fucking around with mind-altering substances. I had a few drinks before I decided to go off with a bunch of strangers, which definitely relaxed me enough to ignore my anxieties about it and probably altered my decision making skills. So I'm going to stop drinking, at least while my life feels this overwhelming, and I don't think I'll be able to touch pot for a long time after this experience.
May 6, 2013
Change
I think life is trying to drive me insane. It
finally lets me get a little bit more comfortable with it and then *BAM*
my job, which I love, is moving to a different state and I have to look for a new one
because I would probably completely fall apart if I lost my entire
support system all at once by moving. Obviously major life stressors are
unavoidable - people lose their jobs, get sick, lose people who are
important to them - but I could have used a little more time without an
extra anxiety producer.
I'm trying (pretty unsuccessfully) to think of it as a positive... it's forcing me to deal with some social anxiety. My therapist and I made an anxiety hierarchy and noticed a theme. Instead of "normal" job loss fears such as actually finding a new job, having the right qualifications, etc., my anxiety has a lot to do with social things. My biggest fear from this is having to change health insurance and having that new insurance company make me choose between keeping my primary therapist or my CBT therapist. I know how hard it is to lose a therapist, and even though it wouldn't be the same situation as before, I know that it would still be difficult.
My second fear is the change of people. I like my current coworkers and I'm comfortable with them. Changing that is nerve-wracking for me. The thought of learning the dynamics of a whole new set of people makes me uncomfortable even though I know that I am perfectly capable of normal social interactions and fitting in with new people. But I also know that before I get more comfortable, I'm going to feel very unsure of myself because I unfortunately care way too much about what other people think of me and I usually tend towards thinking they don't like me.
My third fear is the interview process... And the more I think
about it, the more I think this might actually be my second biggest
fear. Interviewing is basically someone judging you. I don't mean that
in a necessarily bad way, but someone is making a judgement of your
skills and personality to determine whether you will make a good worker
and whether you are right for the environment of the workplace. Knowing
that, makes me tear apart every single detail of every single
conversation and wonder if I've ruined everything by saying "and"
instead of "but".
So basically my brain is melting from all of this anxiety. I
am completely incapable of having a conversation without getting
distracted or zoning out at least once. I pretty much constantly feel
like hurting myself. My appetite has been really weird. And I've been
having ridiculous dreams/nightmares.
Change sucks.
I'm trying (pretty unsuccessfully) to think of it as a positive... it's forcing me to deal with some social anxiety. My therapist and I made an anxiety hierarchy and noticed a theme. Instead of "normal" job loss fears such as actually finding a new job, having the right qualifications, etc., my anxiety has a lot to do with social things. My biggest fear from this is having to change health insurance and having that new insurance company make me choose between keeping my primary therapist or my CBT therapist. I know how hard it is to lose a therapist, and even though it wouldn't be the same situation as before, I know that it would still be difficult.
My second fear is the change of people. I like my current coworkers and I'm comfortable with them. Changing that is nerve-wracking for me. The thought of learning the dynamics of a whole new set of people makes me uncomfortable even though I know that I am perfectly capable of normal social interactions and fitting in with new people. But I also know that before I get more comfortable, I'm going to feel very unsure of myself because I unfortunately care way too much about what other people think of me and I usually tend towards thinking they don't like me.
April 28, 2013
Sharing
OK. Continuing on from before.... (click here if you don't know what I'm talking about)
Even though my high school friend's article was really triggering for me, it was also very empowering. She was so brave to talk about her sexual assault like that. She wrote about it under her own name and shared it with the social networking world. Reading about her strength in going through what she did and then her seeing her strength in sharing it was inspiring. When she came up with the idea to start a blog for survivors to share their stories, I decided to write part of my own story and I submitted it to be posted on that blog.
I started thinking about what I wanted to write and then I couldn't sleep until I had written it all down. I'm kind of proud of how the piece turned out. I didn't make it overly graphic and I shared enough of my story to make some important points about the effects of abuse, and at the same time I felt some catharsis from writing it down. I shared it with my therapists and with a couple friends and they were all very supportive and said that it was well written. After I shared it with them, I felt a little bit less vulnerable so I decided to share it with my brother. Clearly I knew it would be hard for him to read, but I wasn't expecting him to be unable to read it.
I'm not angry with him for not being able to read it - he tried, he got through half of it - but it was disappointing and I'm angry with the circumstances. It's awesome to be able to share my story with my friends and my therapists. The disappointment comes from wishing that I could share some of my burden with my family, but those are the people who find it the hardest to do that because they care the most and don't want to see me hurting. So I know that he's not being unsupportive by not reading it because he's supportive in other ways, but I was sad that people did things to me that were so awful that I can't talk about them with my brother... I hate that they even managed to take that away from me. And then there's more anger that comes from seeing that other people have the choice to not look at my story, whereas I have no choice - I had no say when I was going through it and the memories are part of who I am - I have to look at my story. Despite my anger at life, I'm glad that my brother has that choice because I know how much it sucks when you aren't allowed to decide for yourself what to do.
This was a really hard post to write so I'm going to go do fun and relaxing things now. But I'll end with a little shout out to my brother - love ya bro!
Even though my high school friend's article was really triggering for me, it was also very empowering. She was so brave to talk about her sexual assault like that. She wrote about it under her own name and shared it with the social networking world. Reading about her strength in going through what she did and then her seeing her strength in sharing it was inspiring. When she came up with the idea to start a blog for survivors to share their stories, I decided to write part of my own story and I submitted it to be posted on that blog.
I started thinking about what I wanted to write and then I couldn't sleep until I had written it all down. I'm kind of proud of how the piece turned out. I didn't make it overly graphic and I shared enough of my story to make some important points about the effects of abuse, and at the same time I felt some catharsis from writing it down. I shared it with my therapists and with a couple friends and they were all very supportive and said that it was well written. After I shared it with them, I felt a little bit less vulnerable so I decided to share it with my brother. Clearly I knew it would be hard for him to read, but I wasn't expecting him to be unable to read it.
I'm not angry with him for not being able to read it - he tried, he got through half of it - but it was disappointing and I'm angry with the circumstances. It's awesome to be able to share my story with my friends and my therapists. The disappointment comes from wishing that I could share some of my burden with my family, but those are the people who find it the hardest to do that because they care the most and don't want to see me hurting. So I know that he's not being unsupportive by not reading it because he's supportive in other ways, but I was sad that people did things to me that were so awful that I can't talk about them with my brother... I hate that they even managed to take that away from me. And then there's more anger that comes from seeing that other people have the choice to not look at my story, whereas I have no choice - I had no say when I was going through it and the memories are part of who I am - I have to look at my story. Despite my anger at life, I'm glad that my brother has that choice because I know how much it sucks when you aren't allowed to decide for yourself what to do.
This was a really hard post to write so I'm going to go do fun and relaxing things now. But I'll end with a little shout out to my brother - love ya bro!
April 19, 2013
Boston Strong
I am so glad and relieved that law enforcement have managed to capture the remaining suspect in the Boston Marathon bombings. I'm feeling grateful for all of the amazing efforts and hard work by the law enforcement officers involved in the successful capture. I'm also thinking of the victims of the past four days: the three killed at the bombings and the dozens wounded, the MIT officer who was killed, and the MBTA officer who was seriously wounded in the firefight. I'm proud of Boston for coming together after the horrific events of the last week to demonstrate that we cannot be beaten down.
April 16, 2013
Reality
It has been a while since my last post... about a month! Which means that I actually have a lot to say, but I'll probably split it into at least two posts so that I don't go way too long in this one. Long posts are boring and they hurt my brain! My excuse for not posting is that I got pretty distracted because I went on vacation. I'm so glad that I was able to relax and have fun during it too. I got to see one of my best friends, I got to be in Mexico where it was nice and warm, and I got to get a break from the stresses of life.
Unfortunately I had a backlash of PTSD stuff when I got home. It was like I was able to hide it all away for the week that I was away and then it had to catch up on everything once I stopped forcing it away. So I ended up having this weird kind of reality check because when it all flooded in it felt like, "oh my god this stuff is really part of my life and it actually happened to me; not someone else." Because of that, I was already at a high anxiety level when I found out that someone I was good friends with in high school had experienced a sexual assault. I was so impressed with her strength because she came out publicly about her experience in an article that she wrote. Even though I hadn't talked to her in years, I was still really upset for her when I read it and it also triggered my own stuff. Embarrassingly, I ended up bursting into tears at work because I got so worked up and anxious about it. At first I didn't really know why I had been triggered so badly, but after thinking about it, I figured some of it out.
The obvious part is that I was feeling upset for her because I would never want anyone, let alone someone that I cared about, to go through anything like that. It made more sense to me that around the time that it happened she changed a lot and we pretty much stopped talking and that's such a sad reason for that to have happened. It may not have been the main reason we stopped talking, I don't know, but I'm guessing that it contributed to it.
It was also hard to read a description of a sexual assault. The basic facts of what happened to her made me think about some of the things that have happened to me and the aftereffects of those things.
Those two things by themselves are hard, but I think that the thing that made it REALLY triggering for me was that knowing the person I was reading about made it very real and therefore made what happened to me very real. When I accept what happened to her (because it's impossible not to), I have to accept what happened to me. Most of my defense mechanisms revolve around trying to make what happened go away. I avoid, pretend, repress, deny, I do whatever it takes to make it less real. Having a large dose of reality really sucked.
Despite being triggered, I am proud of how I handled it. Instead of retreating into myself, I talked about it with people. I ended up talking to the coworker who was sitting next to me when I burst into tears and who I trust enough to confide a little bit in. And then when I was still shaking like a leaf by the time I got home, I called the 'on call' at the clinic in order to get some help to calm down. Yay me!
And to end on an extra good note, here's a pretty picture of Tulum, Mexico:
Unfortunately I had a backlash of PTSD stuff when I got home. It was like I was able to hide it all away for the week that I was away and then it had to catch up on everything once I stopped forcing it away. So I ended up having this weird kind of reality check because when it all flooded in it felt like, "oh my god this stuff is really part of my life and it actually happened to me; not someone else." Because of that, I was already at a high anxiety level when I found out that someone I was good friends with in high school had experienced a sexual assault. I was so impressed with her strength because she came out publicly about her experience in an article that she wrote. Even though I hadn't talked to her in years, I was still really upset for her when I read it and it also triggered my own stuff. Embarrassingly, I ended up bursting into tears at work because I got so worked up and anxious about it. At first I didn't really know why I had been triggered so badly, but after thinking about it, I figured some of it out.
The obvious part is that I was feeling upset for her because I would never want anyone, let alone someone that I cared about, to go through anything like that. It made more sense to me that around the time that it happened she changed a lot and we pretty much stopped talking and that's such a sad reason for that to have happened. It may not have been the main reason we stopped talking, I don't know, but I'm guessing that it contributed to it.
It was also hard to read a description of a sexual assault. The basic facts of what happened to her made me think about some of the things that have happened to me and the aftereffects of those things.
Those two things by themselves are hard, but I think that the thing that made it REALLY triggering for me was that knowing the person I was reading about made it very real and therefore made what happened to me very real. When I accept what happened to her (because it's impossible not to), I have to accept what happened to me. Most of my defense mechanisms revolve around trying to make what happened go away. I avoid, pretend, repress, deny, I do whatever it takes to make it less real. Having a large dose of reality really sucked.
Despite being triggered, I am proud of how I handled it. Instead of retreating into myself, I talked about it with people. I ended up talking to the coworker who was sitting next to me when I burst into tears and who I trust enough to confide a little bit in. And then when I was still shaking like a leaf by the time I got home, I called the 'on call' at the clinic in order to get some help to calm down. Yay me!
And to end on an extra good note, here's a pretty picture of Tulum, Mexico:
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| Tulum, Mexico |
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